To leave China and study in Japan, Lin Sen chose to get married. Studying abroad and getting married may sound unrelated, but Lin Sen described marriage as a "transfer of ownership of an object." "My ownership is to be transferred from my parents to my husband just like an object." said Lin Sen, a pseudonym to protect the safety and privacy of her and her family. She said she came from a "controlling household" and her parents have always opposed her going abroad to study and opposed her going to Japan. Her hometown is a small city in a relatively "traditional" province on the southeast coast. When she was 20 years old, her father took her to the homes of many uncles and aunts she didn't know under the pretext of New Year's greetings, telling her to "dress smartly and beautifully." Lin Sen quickly understood what was going on, because those uncles and aunts all acted like "little bosses,” and had sons about Lin Sen’s age. “They acted like we were in a vegetable market, measuring me from head to toe like a cabbage.” "If it’s marriage with a partner of my own choosing, (the matter of studying abroad) will of course be easier to discuss and persuade with that person than with my parents. Even though I’m an adult, my parents still self-righteously treat me like a thing they are free to dispose of. My reason for escaping was purely because I was lucky enough to find a marriage partner with better character, and I was able to get married before my parents arranged one." She eventually succeeded in persuading her husband to support her studying abroad. Lin Sen did not finish her university studies in China. Between the teaching atmosphere, the living conditions, and the ever-present harsh political environment of the school causing her too much "suffering," she decided to drop out. She specifically mentioned that the university’s "situation and policy class" [the ideological and political education course found in PRC schools] really disgusted her. "People like 'military bloggers' often came to give ideological lectures. The content was nothing more than China's rise and indoctrination of hatred." A similar unhappiness about politics also made Huang Kai choose to leave China. "Doesn’t Japan pick an annual Chinese character kanji] every year? I would choose 'escape'," he told WHYNOT with a relieved smile. When he left for Japan, he carried two books in his carry-on backpack. One was "The Great Escape from Hong Kong" and the other was the Bible. At the airport gate, he had been reading the Book of Exodus. "My state was the same as that of the Israelites, that is, I wanted to go somewhere more suitable for human life," said Huang Kai, a pseudonym to protect the safety and privacy of him and his family. Huang Kai is a serious person with a strong sense of ritual. Before coming to Japan, he twice climbed Shenzhen’s Wutong Mountain, the most famous escape route to Hong Kong before China's reform and opening up. From 1949 to 1980, millions of people risked their lives to flee to Hong Kong. "And the descendants of those refugees are now the young people in Hong Kong that again have to escape Communist Party rule." As a Guangdong resident, Huang Kai empathizes with this kind of courage to leave one’s hometown. He said, "The path my predecessors took to flee is the same path I’m taking now." Caption: Huang Kai climbed up Wutong Mountain with the book "The Great Escape from Hong Kong." Across from Wutong Mountain is Hong Kong. Printed on the back of "The Great Escape from Hong Kong" shows the escape route from Wutong Mountain. The biggest barrier to studying abroad is money; studying in Japan can save money After graduating from university, Huang Kai spent nearly five years planning his "escape" to study in Japan. His objective was to work to save money while teaching himself Japanese. To save money, he returned to his hometown in Guangdong to find a job, so that he could at least save on rent and food. Huang Kai's parents had been laid off from state-owned enterprises before going into business and gaining a foothold in Guangdong. Regarding his plan to go to Japan, Huang Kai was not sure whether his parents would support him, so he kept it from his family, saved money, and applied for schools on his own. For the past few years, he has worked all kinds of jobs: at a credit company, as a ticket scalper, and part time for an advertising company writing ads. Every time he got paid, he exchanged part of his salary into U.S. dollars and saved it as cash. His plan was to save $500 a month. Although he lived with his family, he didn’t tell his parents about his plans to study abroad. As a result, early on his mother threw away a mooncake box that he had hid $1,200 in. Even so, after over four years he saved $24,000 to study abroad, which allowed him to pay an agency fee to go to Japan, language school tuition for the first year, accommodation, airline tickets, and other expenses. When he had prepared everything, he told his family. Although his mother was worried about the difficulty of her son going away alone, she was supportive, which surprised Huang Kai. "After all, it's been three years since the city was locked down. They know that the outside world is good." Xiao Jiu is from northeastern China, which is where most Chinese people who go to Japan come from. Asked the reason why so many northeasterners go to Japan, he bluntly said, "poverty." There is no need to repeat the story of the once "proud son of the Republic" who fell on hard times due to a backward economic system, industrial decline, and layoffs. Xiao Jiu said that when he left to study abroad five years ago, the per capita GDP of the small city he lived in was only more than 2,000 renminbi (280 USD). "Just think about it, with 2000 renminbi, you can't do anything. If you are a migrant worker, you may have to rent a house for 800 renminbi (112 USD) a month,” said Xiao Ju, a pseudonym to protect the safety and privacy of him and his family. When he was in high school, he traveled to Shanghai with a group and saw the gleaming skyscrapers. Compared with his hometown, it was so different, and it made him feel like one was heaven and the other common dirt. At that time, the road in front of his house had only just been paved with asphalt, and people still traditionally walked to the market. "Every time there is a big market, you see uncles and aunts selling cabbages from donkey carts." His parents are both working class, and they understood that Xiao Jiu couldn’t take the gaokao [the rigorous college entrance exam that determines the quality of college a high school student can enter]. Since his family's finances were not enough to support him studying in the United States or Canada, he could only settle for the next best thing and go to Japan. The reason for choosing Japan was the same for Lin Sen. They were drawn by "a cheap price and low barrier to entry," especially compared to Western countries such as Britain and the U.S.. From a financial point of view, the tuition for a language school is $5,000 to $6,000 per year, and the tuition for a private school is $7,000 to $15,000 depending on whether it is a sciences program or an arts program. International students studying in the UK need to pay tuition ranging from $15,000 to $35,000 per year. Japan has obvious advantages compared to this. Lin Sen's so-called "low barrier to entry" has three aspects. First, the visa process is convenient. Applicants can apply for a language school in Japan. They can then obtain a long-term visa to land in Japan quickly and easily. Second, it is easier to stay in Japan. If you graduate from a language school, you’ll have local experience, good language skills, and more job opportunities, not to mention having graduated from a Japanese university. The third is that it is easier to work legally in Japan. Overseas students are allotted 120 hours of legal working time per month, and even earning minimum wage is enough to cover more than half of living expenses. Moreover, trade between Japan and China is steady, and some basic small businesses such as purchasing agents and tour guides can also hire them and subsidize their income. Lin Sen understood that she was not yet financially independent, and it was difficult to get enough for tuition and living expenses from her family, so she chose to "run" to Japan. According to statistics from the Japan Student Services Organization (JASSO) gathered over the years, since 2017 the number of international students from China (including graduate schools, vocational schools, language schools and other institutions) has exceeded 100,000 annually. In 2019, before the epidemic, the number of Chinese students studying abroad reached a peak of 124,000. Although the number decreased slightly in the following years due to lockdown, it was never less than 100,000, accounting for 40% of the total number of international students, far more than the number of international students from other countries. Earn a life and a future career for yourself in a myriad of part-time jobs When she arrived in Japan, Lin Sen no longer had to worry about her parents meddling in her life, or about being ruthlessly shoved on the bus or subway. She said, "Japan reserves living space for introverted and sensitive people. Back in China, you would be said to be unfit for society." However, what followed was the stress of survival. The money for living expenses provided by her family was very limited. She usually only eats 99 yen (0.75 USD) rice balls from the supermarket, and often waits until the supermarket’s nightly discounts to buy lunch boxes known as bentos for dinner. In the middle of studying at a private school at night, she would sneak out to grab a bento from a nearby cheap supermarket. Some teachers said that she was not concentrating on her studies, and she would reply flatly with four words, “compelled by this life." Caption: A small road that Lin Sen often walked. To her, every street light was a deadline. She just groped her way forward in the dark. On weekends she would do odd jobs to earn money. Her first job was at a nearby factory packing express delivery boxes. She earned about 1,000 yen per hour (7.50 USD), or about 10,000 yen 75 USD) a day. "You make a lot of money in Japan. In China, you struggle to pay for food. In Japan, you can stop going hungry by working part-time. You can eat good food and buy things." With her first paycheck, she went to a slightly higher-end chain restaurant called Pine House and ordered pork chop fried rice that was "a little more expensive" than usual. According to the latest survey by the Japan Student Services Organization (JASSO), 67% of overseas students studying in Japan worked part-time in 2021, mainly in light physical labor. According to the survey, overseas students who work in food service and retail service industries account for 65.2%. The daily wages of these jobs are basically the same as, or slightly higher than, the local minimum wage. WHYNOT asked Lin Sen to list the jobs she had worked in Japan in the past few years. After thinking about it, she wrote down as many as 14 jobs, ranging from construction work moving bricks on the night shift, late-night newspaper delivery, an izakaya [a traditional Japanese small pub] waiter, a private school lecturer and kindergarten teacher, and numerous others. Her hard work is self-evident. She said that when she was working in the back kitchen of the izakaya, she had to endure workplace bullying from the vicious head chef, who when she said she didn't like it, would directly scold her and tell her to "Go back to China!" When she worked in the front of the izakaya, she had to deal with harassment from older Japanese men. "They often would verbally harass me saying, 'How old are you, young lady? You are so cute, young lady,’ and after two or three glasses of wine, those drunk old men got worse. Having her bottom groped was a common occurrence: “If you complain, people will think you are making a mountain out of a molehill.” Life stress came second after the pressure of exams. Lin Sen arrived in Japan in July and the university entrance exam was in December. Her parents said to her, "Give it a try," but she understood that this was her only chance, and it was impossible for her parents to wait for her for another year. "If I failed the exam within that half a year, I would have had to return to China to be a housewife and have children." She knew she couldn't live a life like that. She is an art student, and her daily life is very orderly and compact. She paints in the morning, studies languages in the afternoon, and continues to paint or study in the evening. Caption: Lin Sen spent an entire night sharpening her pencils before the exam. After many difficulties and much hard work, Lin Sen finally succeeded in being admitted to the two best art universities in Japan. The moment the results were announced, she thought she was dreaming, and reloaded the webpage again and again, an expression of astonishment and ecstasy on her face. "When that happened, I finally saw the future!" Now, with the support of students from prestigious schools, her part-time job has gradually been "upgraded" to teaching at a private school. In the future, she expects to find a stable job after graduation. "With a work visa, I will be naturalized in the future, and I will no longer be controlled. Only then will I truly have an independent future." With support from his parents, Huang Kai, who "acts first and questions later," has greatly reduced his life stress in Japan. He feels that whether it is the cost of living or eating out, prices in Tokyo are similar to first-tier cities in Guangdong province, and the portion sizes are larger. Last year, the Tokyo City Government and the Shinjuku District Government provided local residents with epidemic subsidies of 50,000 and 20,000 yen (approximately $370 and $150) respectively. He couldn’t help but point out Japan’s “superiority” to his mother. Although his current financial stress is not urgent, Huang Kai still thinks about his future. His idea is slightly different from other Chinese students. Although he has a liberal arts degree from a Chinese university, he plans to enter a specialized school to study electronic application engineering after finishing language school. Most of the students around him still scoff at technical jobs, thinking that the higher their education level, the less likely they should become technicians. However, Huang Kai disagrees with this. He believes that only with tangible skills can he have a stable foothold in this new environment. "For me, it's normal to do labor, especially skilled labor, in a job." He described a clear career advancement route, from electronic product maintenance to enterprise development engineer. The most important thing is finding stability and sustainability on such a path. After graduating and returning to China, "seeing the real and desolate world," she decided to return to Japan For many overseas students from China today, the prospect of returning home no longer is appealing. The era of China's rapid economic development and prosperous life has passed. There is no more space and resources for the continuous flow of young labor, and it is even more difficult to meet their yearning for a pluralistic, free, and spiritual world with social justice. In the intensifying "rat race” of competition, traditional family and social culture have made them feel deeply trapped in painful interpersonal relationships. In contrast, a simple material life overseas seems more acceptable. After gaining valuable experience working in internet companies in Beijing, AKO returned to Japan, where she had studied abroad before the lockdown in Shanghai. During her five or six years in Beijing, AKO changed jobs four times and moved seven or eight times. Although her monthly salary was getting higher and her living conditions were continually improving, her life in Beijing still suffocated her. At the time she lived there, Beijing was cleaning up the "low-end population." AKO, working in a large internet company, could escape the bad luck of being "cleaned up" in the crackdown. “This was because my income wasn’t too bad, not at all on the same level as those in impoverished situations living on the streets, but I had a feeling that I could easily become one of them,” said AKO, a pseudonym to protect the safety and privacy of her and her family. She knew that there was a citizen-driven movement to share residences with those who were banished, so she asked her roommate if she could share the room she rented, and her roommate contemptuously asked, "Why do you want to participate in this kind of thing? What do they have to do with you?" On the one hand, there was the homeless "low-end population", and on the other hand, there was her daily life with her circle of friends, which made AKO feel divided. AKO went to Hong Kong in the summer of 2019 and took the subway from Mong Kok to Prince Edward on the night of August 31. She was only one stop away from where the police boarded a train and beat up citizens. After her train stopped in Mong Kok for 20 minutes and then moved, she saw smoke still lingering in the air, scattered police shields, and fallen people on the Prince Edward platform. Back in the mainland, "every colleague around me was calling those in Hong Kong rioters; they were saying that Hong Kong people were wrong." She felt that the colleagues and friends around her were all "high-quality." They either studied abroad at a very young age, or their families were rich and they went to a good university. "Some of them are even very idealistic. Everyone can talk about literature and movies. But, if you talk to them about what happened in Hong Kong and the low-end population, they won’t care.” "I feel that my life is being smashed layer by layer. Outside the ivory tower, I see this real and desolate world." Many friends ridiculed AKO as a "foreign guest" and an idealist. She said that when she was in university in Japan, progressive ideas were popular around her, and she took many topics for granted. "For example, equality between men and women was to be expected, and LGBT rights were only natural." But life in China made her feel out of place. "It didn’t matter whether it was idealism or not. This was a question of right or wrong." So, she left China desperately before Beijing was locked down and returned to Japan. Living in Japan, also part of the East Asian cultural sphere, is not always satisfactory. AKO is now working in a "relatively enlightened" Japanese company, but Japan's rigid workplace culture and gender inequality still make her quite desperate. "Companies require independence when recruiting people, but at the same time they also need to be united. If you are too independent, you will be picked on by your supervisor. In the end, you still have to wait for the boss's decision, otherwise you will be criticized for 'lack of coordination.’" Gender issues are even more of a chronic problem in Japan. She said that the proportion of female staff in her company is very small, and she is the only female employee present at 80% of the meetings. The high-level board of directors finally hired a female director only this year. It's not that AKO has no ambition for promotion, but she has realized the difference in the work assigned by leadership—often giving her arduous and thankless tasks and keeping the high-praise publicity work for themselves. AKO also thinks, "If I wasn’t working, would it be worth staying in Japan?" She has no answer. Occasionally, Lin Sen would be asked by "innocent" Japanese friends why she didn’t want to return to China when she came to Japan just to study. Japanese young people generally do not choose to study abroad. She would give them a simple example to help them understand. In 2021, China massively reformed its education and training industry, causing tens of millions of people to lose their jobs overnight. "Life and employment in China are unstable, and I can't be sure if such an incident will suddenly happen to me." Xiao Jiu, who is preparing for postgraduate study in Japan, asked WHYNOT, "What can I do if I go back? People in the Northeast can only be admitted as government employees, but I can't be a government employee. Since I was a child, I felt that if someone wasn’t a government employee, they would be thought of as a failure." He believes that the Northeast is a place where bureaucracy is very serious. Even after experiencing a wave of unemployment, people in the Northeast are still very dependent on “iron rice bowls” [stable government jobs]. “Because the soil of the Northeast is not like Beijing or Shanghai, it is not suitable for private enterprises. If I go back, I will be poor.” Huang Kai was even more decisive. He quoted a peasant woman who fled to Hong Kong during the "Great Escape from Hong Kong": "After I die, don't even blow my ashes back here (to China)." In April in Japan, the cherry blossoms had just withered, and strong winds immediately carried a sandstorm that swept across 16 Chinese provinces to Japan. It was the worst sandstorm to hit Japan in 16 years.
