What is "Sanhe Dashen?"
The term "Sanhe Dashen" (literally "Sanhe Great Gods") comes from Longhua, Shenzhen, referring to young migrant workers lingering on the city’s edges. "Sanhe" names their core hub—the Sanhe Talent Market, once their starting point for work; "Dashen" is sarcastic praise for their ultra-low-cost survival. They gained wide attention via the NHK documentary Sanhe Talent Market: Young People Earning 1,500 Yen a Day in China. Mostly born in the 1990s and 2000s, they arrived in Shenzhen chasing fortune, only to be trapped by reality, forming a unique lifestyle.
Survival-wise, "work one day, idle three days" defines them. They reject long factory stints, sticking to daily-wage jobs (security, courier sorting, construction) for same-day pay—a quiet protest against wage theft and harsh factory rules, plus a fight for survival freedom. Their basics: 5-yuan "guabi noodles" (cheap noodles for the destitute), 2-yuan "guabi water" (cheap drinks), and 8-yuan nightly dorm beds. When broke, they sleep at the talent market (mockingly called "Hisense Grand Hotel") or abandoned rooftops, even selling phone/WeChat accounts, or risking being "nominal legal persons" to get by.
Spiritually, they have their own language: "guabi" (penniless), "diaomao" (a casual, rough term for each other), "wenzhu" (long factory work, which most avoid). Internet cafes are their shelters—here, frustrated "diaomao" become admired online "big brothers," forgetting hardship and the shame of returning home empty-handed. They aren’t born lazy: many faced uncompensated injuries or withheld wages, losing trust in mainstream work. Others fear failing to "return home gloriously," so they drift.
After the old Sanhe Talent Market’s demolition, some moved to Dongguan’s Xiaobian, others stayed near Longhua Bus Station. Industrial upgrading has made low-end jobs scarcer ("work two days, rest one day" is new normal), but they still struggle. Some check electrician training, others save startup videos—hoping for a way out. They’re not a "degeneration" symbol, but a mirror of bottom-tier youth’s troubles in urbanization: using passive resistance against class barriers, they guard their last bit of dignity on the city’s margins.
This truth became my mission for my community—the Sanhe, a neighborhoowhd quitely hidden beneath Shenzhen’s prosperity. It is the home for thousands of migrant workers from all over China who come to the city to seek short-term, daily-paid work.
When I first visited Sanhe, I felt a great sense of dissonance. Online, people often described workers in Sanhe as “lazy” and “unmotivated”. But what I had witnessed was people staring intently at the job recruitment board, waiting for any update of higher-paid work; others gathering around, sharing information on which factories might still be hiring. I was struck by their quiet determination, but meanwhile feeling sad about how invisible it remained. Shenzhen celebrates achievements, not endurance, and so their unstable employment and low salary earn them the unfair labels of “lazy” and “unmotivated”.
I decided to act, with what I had and what I love: Ukulele. Music, I believe, is a neutral bridge; it didn’t judge who you were or what you earned. I hope, through music, I wanted to build a genuine relationship with them and to tell them that someone still notices their effort and struggle. At first, a few came to listen. Then, more and more join. Weeks later, I invited them to learn to play Ukulele together with me. As time went on, Sanhes started to call me the “guitar teacher”, and they would laugh, argue playfully over whose next. In these moments, I find myself no longer an outsider, but a part of the community.
As trust grew, my visits evolved into long conversations with them. They shared how people would circumvent them when walking on the street, and how job recruiters ignored them for their background. I realized what really traps them is never “laziness” but the discrimination from those who think of them as “lazy”. While the sound of my Ukulele may not reach outside of the community, my voice can. I refused to stay silent while others ignored their suffering and effort. So, I stood on a Ted stage and .
Today's Sanhe
The original site of the Sanhe Talent Market has been demolished and rebuilt as "Struggler Plaza." Its core business has fully shifted to an online digital recruitment platform, and the surrounding environment has been significantly improved. However, the size of the "Sanhe Dashen" community that once gathered there has shrunk significantly.
Beginning in 2021, the Shenzhen government launched a comprehensive renovation of urban villages, removing unsafe facilities (such as cheap internet cafes and small hotels) and adding "rest houses" or "Struggler Gas Stations" offering free rest areas, power banks, drinking water, and instant noodles. Accommodation areas have been upgraded to affordable long-term rentals, with prices remaining the same but conditions improved.
The evolution of the "Sanhe Dashen": Day laborers, who once lived a "work one day, play three days" lifestyle, have significantly decreased. Reasons include:
Rising living costs in Shenzhen and the relocation of manufacturing have led to a decline in demand for flexible employment.
Some have transitioned through psychological counseling and vocational training, escaping their marginalized existence.
Currently, many of those stranded have turned to emerging industries such as logistics and domestic services, or chosen to work in provincial capitals.
