They were both couriers. One wrote a bestselling book, the other made a film

What happens when the author of a bestselling memoir about working as a courier in mainland China, and a Hong Kong videographer who moonlights as a food delivery rider, meet? They do not immediately launch into a philosophical discussion about art and labour. Instead, they compare different vehicles’ battery lifespans, the daily distances they travel, and the risk of traffic accidents on the job. “It’s very common in [mainland] China,” Hu Anyan says. “And especially so with food delivery, because you’re always in a rush.” Ahead of his appearance at the Hong Kong International Literary Festival in March, Hu, author of I Deliver Parcels in Beijing, sat down for a conversation in his native Cantonese with videographer Kong Yiu-wing and the South China Morning Post. Meeting for the first time, Hu and Kong discussed their respective experiences as artist-labourers who draw on their jobs for their artistic practices. The pandemic served as a turning point for both of them. Hu was newly unemployed in Beijing at the time, and decided to revive his writing practices; he wrote, in one sitting, 4,000 words about his experience working as a package handler in Shunde, Guangdong province, two years earlier. What came next has become publishing legend. Hu’s piece went viral on the Chinese social media platform Douban, catching the attention of editors and eventually becoming the first chapter of a book that chronicles the 19 jobs – including as courier – he worked in over two decades, one that has sold over 2 million copies in China alone. As for Kong, he became a rider for Foodpanda in Hong Kong during the pandemic after he returned from Taiwan with an arts master’s degree and could not find work. While waiting on the street for an order to come in, Kong would use his phone to film his surroundings. These clips, coupled with interviews of friends he made on the job, formed the basis for The Road Runners’ Spring, a 2025 documentary. The film, born out of a will to continue practising filmmaking while working as a full-time delivery rider, depicts the hardship of delivery workers with a light touch, splicing heavier material, such as the practicalities of applying for insurance compensation after a car crash, with merrier scenes of hotpot gatherings and lively banter among riders on the side of the road. The two men found that one of the most shared frustrations on the job was the constant negotiation with building security guards. Kong says few of his arguments with guards made it into the documentary, since in those heated moments he could not emotionally detach from the situation sufficiently to start filming. “And they might beat you up if you start recording,” Hu says in response. In the book, Hu details his own clashes with security guards, including episodes when negotiations failed and he had to call the police. Hu, who once worked as a security guard, adds that the two groups by default have conflicting responsibilities, and it falls upon the riders to navigate these differences. Hu’s frank and detailed account of his time at various companies did not get him into trouble, unlike others who have done similarly in mainland China. Hu anonymised the names of the employers he criticised, only naming the ones he liked, such as Pinjun Express – which had gone out of business anyway, meaning there was little litigation risk. In addition, I Deliver Parcels in Beijing became hugely popular. “I’m quite safe in China,” he says. “If a company goes after me, they’re going against public opinion. But if the book had received middling reviews, or if not that many people read it, they may have taken action.” “That’s not dissimilar to my situation,” Kong says. “I don’t know if management knows that a delivery worker made a documentary. But there wasn’t backlash from this, and no one contacted me. And I kept my job – I’m quite surprised about this.” In Hong Kong, there remains a social stigma towards the job of food delivery. “To this day, my family has not fully accepted [my decision],” Kong says. “They felt like I had studied so much, only to become a delivery person.” At gallery openings, his friends in the art scene would taunt him whenever he looked at his phone by asking whether he was checking for orders. Hu’s views on the roles of artists and labourers are, unsurprisingly, egalitarian. “I believe that a writer and a logistics worker are equal,” he says. “I was a student in the 80s and 90s. Back then, China had not fully opened up yet, and society was quite conservative. It was mostly bad, but there was also good: at least it advocated for a kind of equality on the surface.” The tug of war between time and money, and the tension between labour and art, are age-old themes. After all, Hu’s literary hero, Kafka, often complained in his diaries about not having enough time to write; he had a day job as an insurance worker. But the experiences of the two men show how the balancing act has become more complicated in the contemporary gig economy. Hu admits he is the lucky one. “I’ve known many people who are more committed to this, but they haven’t had this big break.” He reflects on a time when he stopped writing entirely because of work. He ultimately returned to the practice because it brought him solace. After two decades of trying to balance work and art – and “not doing a very good job of it” – he has now achieved the dream: writing fiction full-time. This is all thanks to the financial success of his book, which has also been published in English. Hu and his wife now live and write in Chengdu, where costs are low, especially for a childless couple. As for Kong, The Road Runners’ Spring has been well received and more screenings are being planned. Kong now splits his time between teaching at art school, freelance projects and making deliveries. He still self-identifies as a “slasher”. His interview subjects, too, are anything but defined by their choice of occupation. The rider Thomson, for instance, describes not having taken a break for two years and only getting four to five hours of sleep every night. But he has his own creative ambitions, and tours China as a DJ. “If you look at this more optimistically, delivery work is an opportunity,” Kong says. “The work is flexible, and if you want to carve out time for your creative practice that day, you can do a four-hour shift – and then you’re free.”

They were both couriers. One wrote a bestselling book, the other made a film

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}I Deliver Parcels in Beijing author Hu Anyan and videographer Kong Yiu-wing talk about making art out of hard, blue-collar labour

I Deliver Parcels in Beijing author Hu Anyan and videographer Kong Yiu-wing talk about making art out of hard, blue-collar labour