They arrive in the evening, bring their own chairs, and sometimes fall asleep between the shelves.
In the summer of 2022, China's most severe heatwave in over sixty years pressed down upon its cities and countryside alike, exposing the fragility of systems built for ordinary weather. The elderly, without air conditioning and without alternatives, found shelter in supermarket aisles — a quiet testament to how extreme climate events fall hardest on those with the fewest resources. From shuttered factories in Sichuan to dried riverbeds in Chongqing, the crisis revealed how heat, drought, power, and human vulnerability are bound together in ways no single policy can easily untangle.
- Temperatures are shattering sixty-year records across major Chinese cities, overwhelming power grids and leaving millions without reliable electricity during one of the most dangerous heat events in the country's modern history.
- Elderly residents with no air conditioning at home have begun spending their evenings — night after night, for over a month — seated in supermarket aisles, some bringing their own chairs, some falling asleep between the shelves.
- Nineteen of twenty-one cities in Sichuan have been ordered to halt industrial operations, forcing Toyota and other major manufacturers to go dark as the government redirects power toward residential use.
- Sixty-five rivers in the southwest have dried up entirely, rainfall has fallen sixty percent below normal, and a national drought alert has been issued — raising urgent questions about water supply, crop survival, and long-term food security.
- The crisis is compounding: heat drives power demand, drought reduces hydroelectric capacity, factories shut down, and the most vulnerable citizens are left to improvise their survival in the cool corners of commercial spaces not designed to hold them.
In a Hubei supermarket, an elderly man carries a plastic chair from home and settles into the aisle where the air conditioning blows coldest. Around him, dozens of others do the same. They are not shopping — they are surviving. For over a month, they have arrived after seven in the evening and stayed until closing, returning the next night, because they have nowhere else to go.
China is enduring its worst heatwave in more than six decades. Red alerts have been issued across major cities as record temperatures overwhelm the power grid. The government has made a stark choice: prioritize electricity for homes, cut it from factories. And so the elderly — many without air conditioning — have quietly claimed supermarket aisles as informal cooling centers. Store staff tried to move them along. It didn't work.
The industrial toll is severe. In Sichuan, nineteen of twenty-one cities have been ordered to shut down manufacturing operations. Toyota halted production. Other major manufacturers followed. Across the southwest and into Shanghai, cities are recording their hottest temperatures ever measured.
The accompanying drought deepens the crisis. In Chongqing, rainfall has dropped sixty percent below normal levels, and sixty-five rivers have dried up entirely. The government has issued a national drought alert. Heat and drought are moving together, compounding each other across every layer of the system — power, water, food, and work.
Millions remain without reliable electricity. Factories are shuttered. Rivers are gone. And in the cool aisles of supermarkets, the elderly arrange their chairs like a makeshift community, waiting out the nights in the only refuge available to them.
In a supermarket in Hubei province, an elderly man settles onto a plastic chair he brought from home, positioning himself between the aisles where the air conditioning runs strongest. Around him, dozens of others do the same—sitting, resting, sometimes sleeping through the evening hours. This has become routine. For more than a month, these people have been arriving after seven in the evening, staying until closing, returning the next night. They are not shopping. They are surviving.
China is enduring its worst heatwave in more than six decades. Across the country, municipalities have issued red alert warnings as temperatures shatter records in major cities. The heat has overwhelmed the power grid. Millions of people are experiencing blackouts. Factories have gone dark. The government has made a choice: keep the lights on in homes, cut them off in plants. And so the elderly, many of them without air conditioning at home, have discovered that supermarkets offer something free—cool air, and a place to sit.
Store staff initially tried to move them along. It didn't work. The crowds kept coming, kept settling in, kept staying. A store owner described the pattern to a reporter: they arrive in the evening, they bring their own chairs, they occupy different sections of the shop. Some fall asleep between the shelves. The store, designed to move customers through quickly, has become an informal cooling center, a refuge for people with nowhere else to go.
The heatwave's reach extends far beyond these supermarket aisles. In Sichuan province, nineteen of twenty-one cities have been ordered to shut down industrial operations. Toyota halted production. Other major manufacturers followed. The government's reasoning was explicit: residential power comes first. Factories can wait. The shortage is that severe. Across the southwest and into the Yangtze River delta, including Shanghai, cities are recording their hottest temperatures on record.
The drought that accompanies this heat is equally alarming. In Chongqing, a southwestern region of thirty-four counties, rainfall has dropped by sixty percent from normal levels. The consequence is stark: sixty-five rivers have dried up entirely. The Chinese government issued a national drought alert. Water that should be flowing is gone. Crops depend on it. Cities depend on it. The heat and the drought are moving together, compounding each other, creating a crisis that touches every part of the system—power, water, food, work.
What began as a weather event has become an economic and social disruption. Millions of people are without reliable electricity. Factories are shuttered. Rivers are dry. And in the cool aisles of supermarkets, the elderly wait out the nights, chairs arranged like a makeshift community, because it is the only refuge available to them. The heatwave shows no sign of breaking.
Citas Notables
They hung out around different aisles of the shop while sitting on chairs they had brought from home. They have been visiting after 7 pm for a month already.— A supermarket store owner in Hubei
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why are the elderly specifically the ones we're seeing in these supermarkets? Are younger people not affected by the heat?
Younger people often have jobs, air conditioning at work, or the means to travel elsewhere. The elderly are more vulnerable to heat itself—their bodies regulate temperature less efficiently—and many live in older housing without cooling. The supermarket becomes their only option.
The store owners tried to make them leave. Why didn't that work?
Because there was nowhere else for these people to go, and the owners eventually understood that. You can't force someone out into 50-degree heat. The stores became a kind of social contract—the elderly got refuge, the stores got foot traffic and a reason to stay open.
The government prioritized residential power over factories. That's a significant choice.
It is. It says the government sees this as a survival crisis, not just an inconvenience. But it also means the economy stops. Toyota stops. Supply chains break. That choice has consequences that ripple outward.
Sixty-five rivers dried up. That's not just about this summer, is it?
No. That's a sign of something deeper—a region in genuine water stress. When rivers dry up, you're looking at problems with agriculture, drinking water, hydroelectric power. This heatwave is exposing vulnerabilities that were already there.
What happens when the heat finally breaks?
The immediate crisis ends. People go home. But the drought doesn't reverse overnight. The rivers don't refill in a week. And the question becomes: what does China do about the next one?