As we strolled along the crowded and vibrant local wet market in Shanghai, the cheerful figure standing behind the fish section near the entrance of the market grabbed our attention. Bundled up in a cozy beanie and a fur-trimmed jacket, her wide, genuine smile lit up the bustling surroundings. In the midst of the busy hour, the fishmonger auntie recalled her story as a migrant living in Shanghai. It was a story that reflected her journey of resilience and discovering a sense of belonging in the city that embraced her as its own.
Originally from Jiangxi province, she moved to Shanghai along with her husband twenty years ago. Eager to make a living for their family, they started a small business selling fish. She claimed that Shanghai is the “most civilized city because the customers here are nice and welcoming.” Her solid and determined voice suggested that coming to Shanghai while leaving everything behind in her hometown was an unregretful decision. Her smile widened, and her slightly emptied eyes suddenly brightened with joy, as if every delightful flashback made in the city flew back to her mind in that very second.
Life in Shanghai moves at an unyielding pace, but the auntie seemed to be seldom tired. She described her life as “busy without any time to take a break; I cannot do anything else besides finishing my work.” Her home is twenty minutes away, and every day after the couple finishes selling fish, her husband drives her home. When we asked her what time she wakes up daily, she said, “I normally sleep at 9 p.m., wake up at 5 a.m., and sometimes wake up even earlier, like 3 a.m. I need to prepare for the day and rearrange the fish products.” Yet from her tone, the heavy workload has not overwhelmed her. She is extremely satisfied and enjoys the everyday process.
Despite her optimistic view of her life, there is one thing that troubles her mind. “Due to the area being imposed to be removed by the local government, the customers’ numbers have become less and less.” She sighed and became a little bit depressed after being reminded of the ruthless policy, but as the next customer approached, she brought her splendid smile back to face them.
When talking about her family members, however, the auntie’s mood shifted entirely. Just like any other mothers, she spoke with immense pride upon mentioning her daughter. We asked about her daughter’s age, and she told us that her daughter is older than us. “She is already a university student. My daughter is actually pursuing her master's degree in Chemistry at Fudan University.” Even though she later humbly added, “It’s just a master’s degree, it’s not as prestigious as an undergraduate degree,” her face lit up with pride at every mention of her daughter, her joy radiating like sunlight. It was a joy that overflowed uncontrollably and could not be hidden. She smiled again.
The auntie is just an ordinary person in Shanghai. She has encountered both joys and difficulties, while her smile, the smile she used to face every customer and herself, glittered up like a beacon of light, lightening her days and our days during the undeniably ordinary and monotonous moments.
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