You have no idea what it's like to work more than 13 hours a day
In the grasslands of Inner Mongolia, a farmer's modest call for shepherds became an unintended mirror held up to China's exhausted workforce. Over 700 people — graduates, factory hands, office workers — applied to tend 3,000 sheep in near-isolation, some 300 kilometers from the nearest city, because the alternative felt worse. The viral moment, viewed 59 million times, speaks to something older than economics: the human need to find work that does not consume the self entirely.
- A shepherd job paying £880 a month outcompeted China's urban private-sector average wage, exposing just how badly the '996' grind has eroded the value workers place on their own time.
- A 21-year-old factory worker with blistered, swollen hands and no bathroom breaks became the face of a generation hitting a physical and psychological wall — and he was far from alone.
- Youth unemployment for 16-to-24-year-olds sits at 16.9%, yet the flood of applicants wasn't driven by desperation alone — many had jobs, and wanted out anyway.
- The farmer, overwhelmed by 700 applications, ultimately chose four experienced rural workers, quietly concluding that city people might not survive a year without seeing another human being.
- A shortlist of over 40 couples now waits for future openings on one ranch in Mongolia — a quiet signal that the rural-urban labor current may be beginning to reverse.
In late April, a farmer named Zuo Xiaoyong posted a straightforward ad on Chinese social media: two shepherds needed, ideally a couple, to manage 3,000 sheep across 2,000 hectares of remote Inner Mongolian pasture near the Mongolian border. The pay was 8,000 yuan a month — housing and food included. What followed was not straightforward at all.
The accompanying video of sheep moving through open green fields was viewed 59 million times on Weibo. More than 700 people applied. Among them: recent university graduates, factory workers worn to the bone, and white-collar professionals from Shanghai and Chongqing. About one in ten held a degree. The salary Zuo offered actually exceeded China's national urban average for private-sector employees — yet people were applying anyway, many of them already employed, simply desperate for a way out.
One applicant, 21-year-old James Guo, had been fastening screws in shipping containers for over thirteen hours a day. His hands were blistered and swollen. He had no time for bathroom breaks. His story echoed across the applications: a workforce ground down by '996' culture — nine to nine, six days a week — and a youth unemployment rate of 16.9% for those aged 16 to 24.
Zuo ultimately hired four shepherds: two couples with genuine farm experience. He turned away single applicants and young urbanites, worried that a year of near-total isolation — temperatures dropping below minus 30 in winter, sometimes no other person in sight — would break them. He now holds a shortlist of more than 40 couples for future roles. What began as a simple hiring need became something else: a glimpse into a labor market so pressurized that the edge of Mongolia, cold and silent, looks like relief.
In late April, a farmer named Zuo Xiaoyong posted a simple advertisement on Chinese social media. He needed two shepherds—ideally a couple—to manage 3,000 sheep across 2,000 hectares of pasture on his ranch in Inner Mongolia, about 300 kilometers from Xilinhot near the Mongolian border. The work would be seasonal: summer grazing, winter feeding and cleaning when temperatures plummeted below minus 30 degrees Celsius. The pay was 8,000 yuan per month, roughly £880, with housing and food included. It was straightforward work in a remote place. What happened next revealed something fracturing in China's labor market.
The video accompanying the posting showed sheep moving freely through green fields. Within days, the advert had been viewed 59 million times on Weibo. More than 700 people applied for two positions. Zuo found himself sorting through applications from recent university graduates, factory workers, and white-collar professionals from Shanghai and Chongqing—people with degrees and office jobs, now desperate enough to consider herding sheep in the Mongolian steppe.
About one in ten applicants held a university degree. Many others had spent years in factories or corporate environments, worn down by what has become known as "996" culture: nine in the morning to nine at night, six days a week. The salary Zuo offered—8,000 yuan—actually exceeded China's national urban average for private company employees by roughly 2,000 yuan. Yet people were applying anyway. "I didn't expect it to go viral," Zuo told Reuters. "It seems ordinary people are having a hard time finding work."
One applicant was James Guo, 21 years old, who had been fastening screws in shipping containers for more than thirteen hours a day. His hands were swollen and blistered. He had no time to use the bathroom. "The workload is too intense, I can't take it any more," he said. His story was not unusual. Across China's cities, young workers and professionals were hitting a wall. The official unemployment rate hovered around 5.2 percent, but for people aged 16 to 24—excluding students—it reached 16.9 percent. The numbers told one story; the applications to herd sheep in the cold told another.
Zuo ultimately hired four shepherds: two couples with prior farm experience. He rejected single applicants and young urbanites, reasoning that isolation in a place where you might not see another person for a year would break them. "Whether someone can endure such loneliness, I don't know," he said. He has a shortlist of more than 40 couples for future positions. The farmer's caution speaks to a deeper uncertainty—not just about whether city people can do rural work, but whether the pressure cooker of Chinese urban employment has become so intense that people are willing to trade everything familiar for solitude and sheep. What began as a simple hiring need has become a window into a labor market under strain, where escape—even to the edge of Mongolia—looks like relief.
Notable Quotes
The salary is high, but whether you can work long-term and get through the winter is what matters most. This is not tourism.— Zuo Xiaoyong, farm owner
You have no idea what it's like to work more than 13 hours a day, fastening screws until your hands are swollen and covered in blisters, without even having time to go to the bathroom. The workload is too intense, I can't take it any more.— James Guo, 21-year-old factory worker
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why do you think 700 people applied for a shepherd job that requires isolation and extreme cold?
Because the alternative—the 996 grind, the blistered hands, the thirteen-hour days—had become unbearable. The salary wasn't even the main draw. It was the promise of something different.
But Zuo rejected most of them. He only hired experienced farm workers. What was he afraid of?
He understood that urban people romanticize rural life until they're actually alone in it. Loneliness isn't a problem you solve with a good salary. It's a test of character, and he wasn't sure city dwellers would pass it.
The unemployment numbers are officially low—5.2 percent. Yet thousands applied to herd sheep. What does that gap mean?
It means the official numbers don't capture what people are actually experiencing. A job that exists and pays you is not the same as a life you can sustain. Young people especially are caught between credential inflation and wage stagnation.
Do you think this is a turning point? Will more people leave cities for rural work?
Probably not in large numbers. But the viral response showed something real: a hunger for a different kind of life, even if most people won't actually take it. It's a pressure valve, a moment where the system's strain became visible.
What surprised Zuo most about the applications?
That graduates and white-collar workers were applying at all. He expected desperation from the margins. Instead, he saw it from people who had supposedly made it—people with degrees, office jobs, stability. That's what made him say, 'It seems ordinary people are having a hard time finding work.'