Chapter 96

Word was that starting this episode, The Wage Earners would be livestreaming from an eldercare hospital?

Exciting!

Thinking that they’d likely have to deal with eldercare hospitals and service centers when they got old, the childfree-by-choice millennials and Gen Z’ers all set their alarms, ready to catch the premiere of The Wage Earners’ livestream from the rehab hospital right on time.

This was also Wei Sheng’s first time setting foot in a high-end professional eldercare hospital—and it was nothing like what he’d imagined!

Strictly speaking, it didn’t even feel like a hospital. Medical care made up only a small part of the facility. Far more prominent were services like rehabilitation, wellness, psychological support, and cultural or entertainment activities.

Most of the social worker trainees recruited by the talent center weren’t medical or nursing graduates; they were all outsiders. No one expected them to become miracle workers after just a few days of training. The curriculum mostly focused on basic skills like accompanying patients to appointments, emergency first aid, and daily care.

That’s where someone like Shao Ping really came in handy. As a male social worker, he had more strength and longer limbs—ideal for assisting immobile or semi-incapacitated seniors, moving them from bed to wheelchair, or helping in emergency situations, which he could handle more easily than most women.

But there was one downside—he wasn’t very meticulous. For example, when feeding an elderly person, men like him tended to go at the pace they ate themselves, spoon after spoon, without checking whether the senior had swallowed—thankfully the show was using mannequins. If they’d used real people, viewers would’ve called the authorities for elder abuse the moment the livestream started.

Unlike Qin Fang, who had experience caring for children—she would carefully watch to see if the senior had swallowed, and if they were having trouble, she’d offer some soup or warm water first to aid swallowing, and slow the feeding pace accordingly.

This segment was Jin Yannan’s specialty—the tearjerker moments showcasing all kinds of life stories in the eldercare hospital, moving viewers to tears.

Turns out all those jokes people made about “rooming together in old age” might actually become reality!

Truth be told, to place an elderly family member in a high-end rehab hospital like this, the children—or the senior themselves—needed to be at least middle class financially. Just staying here each month—between the room, medical treatments, physical therapy, nutrition plans, and personal attendants—cost at least ten thousand yuan. And that didn’t even include pricey medications.

But there were benefits too. If the children were too busy to care for their ailing parents, sending them here meant far more professional care than they could offer. And the only real downside—loneliness—had also been addressed.

In the second half of the livestream, as the camera followed the crew around, viewers got a real eye-opener: this was how the wealthy aged.

They didn’t even have to leave the building—everything was taken care of!

Bad teeth? There was a dedicated dental clinic, just a short walk away.

Bored? There were movie theaters, chess rooms, all sorts of hobby classes held regularly. The inpatient area even had a pond for fishing…

Viewers: “…” Jealousy contorted our faces.

And that wasn’t all. A hospital staff member brought out a tablet and pulled up a customized service page, rattling off a list of optional paid wellness services.

For example, “short trip companions” for seniors who were still mobile and just there for wellness treatments—they could hire a one-on-one companion or split the cost with others, and have someone take them around town for a day of fun.

Or “cross-hospital escorts” for those with specialized conditions not treatable at this facility—they could opt to have someone from this hospital accompany them to another, instead of being sent off alone.

There were even exclusive communities like a senior dance troupe, a senior theater club, and a senior photography group. Word was, every year some retirees would book their stays together, spend a few months here getting treatment and having fun—forming drama groups, dance teams, with the hospital bringing in teachers, even photographers to shoot photos and videos. The fun never stopped.

“Gotta make money. Aging and just surviving are two very different things,” Shao Ping muttered to himself.

Wei Sheng, standing in front of him, couldn’t help twitching his lips when he heard that.

Exactly. Their generation had already seen through all this.

Rely on your kids for retirement? No matter how close your son is, he’s not as dependable as your bank balance.

Hadn’t they noticed? The ones hospitals made every effort to save were either retirees with high pensions, or those who had considerable wealth but hadn’t yet written a will.

As for those without pensions or savings, forget fancy rehab hospitals—they couldn’t even afford a public one.

By the end of the livestream, the veil over the eldercare industry had been lifted. The specialty services of high-end wellness hospitals left viewers both envious and quietly staring at their own dwindling bank balances.

Being childfree might save on daily expenses, but if they wanted a better life in old age, they had to start making money now.

Others were investing in their kids—they were investing in themselves.

A few days later, the social worker training program concluded. Shao Ping and Qin Fang both earned their certificates and officially joined the Haitangyuan Street Elderly Care Service Center. They would undergo two weeks of hands-on training there, and only after passing their assessments could they become official employees.

Turns out, the fans arguing online during the show’s broadcast were right: eldercare centers run by local districts might not match the services of costly private hospitals, but they had proper hiring practices and provided basic in-home eldercare for regular families at minimal cost.

And so, Shao Ping and Qin Fang became coworkers.

To facilitate filming, the production team coordinated with the local district to assign them both to Haitangyuan Street.

Unsurprisingly, Qin Fang brought her child to work—not because she didn’t want to send her to daycare, but because she couldn’t afford it.

She hadn’t officially started the job yet, and even once she did, her first paycheck wouldn’t come until next month. Her ex-husband’s 1,600 yuan monthly child support wasn’t enough to cover rent and expenses for two kids. Qin Fang had no choice but to scrimp and save.

The center paid bonuses based on the number of services completed each month, in addition to base salary. Qin Fang started with two assignments, but once she got the hang of things, she began taking on more—she went full-on hustle mode.

After dropping off her older daughter at kindergarten in the morning, she’d swing by the local market and help a few mobility-impaired seniors with grocery shopping—tasks similar to running errands. A few extra deliveries in the morning could earn her dozens of yuan in fees.

At 8:30 a.m., when the center opened, she dropped her younger daughter at the children’s activity area, asking an on-duty colleague to keep an eye on her. Then she’d spend the entire morning cleaning, doing laundry, picking up meds, etc., for two different seniors.

By 11:30, she’d pick up her daughter and head to the community cafeteria for lunch. Social workers received a 300-yuan monthly meal subsidy. Since the child ate little, Qin Fang gave her a bowl of steamed egg custard and ordered the cheapest 8-yuan set for herself—one meat and two vegetables: braised pork with carrots, shredded pork with pickled greens, and tofu stew with cabbage.

After lunch, she’d nap with her daughter in an empty room at the center, then repeat the morning routine for two more households in the afternoon.

According to the center’s performance standards, someone like Qin Fang who took on four clients a day could earn 7,000–8,000 yuan in bonuses alone, and with base pay, easily clear 10,000 a month.

Watching her grind so hard, even Shao Ping was a little intimidated. He thought his own routine—working by day and writing at night—was intense enough.

But then he looked at Qin Fang, a single mom with two kids, managing four assignments daily, running errands in the morning, and even hitting the night market with her kids in tow. Did she even need rest?

Glancing at his own dashboard showing he’d only completed two jobs today, Shao Ping quietly added two more.

No way he’d let a mom of two outpace him on assignments.

While the two guests were silently competing to outdo each other, the regular cast of “The Wage Earners” was also caught up in their own hustle.

This episode of “The Wage Earners” focused on the issue of urban stay-at-home moms returning to the workforce, so the guests’ efforts naturally revolved around this theme.

They planned a surprise for the stay-at-home moms participating in the training—a daycare class for the children of social workers at the Haitangyuan Street Elderly Care Service Center, funded by the production team.

There were already vacant rooms upstairs at the center. The local street office offered one of them, and the production team would handle the renovation, buy appliances, toys, books, and hire two additional social workers to look after the children.

Wei Sheng did the math: if the daycare could accommodate forty kids, the monthly fee per child could be kept under 500 yuan, which would be enough to cover staff salaries and basic operating costs.

Though it wouldn’t match the standards of professional daycare centers, it was still a much better arrangement than having kids follow their moms around, eating and resting irregularly.

In the old neighborhood where Wei Sheng now lived, several households were in the renovation business. He picked one that offered good value, gave them the full renovation job with labor and materials included, and liked the design well enough to hand over the entire project.

The other three were baffled by his efficiency.

Wait, if the work’s already outsourced, what are we supposed to do? What are we filming?

“Solving the daycare issue is one thing. What I’m really thinking is, these stay-at-home moms are working themselves to the bone trying to make ends meet while raising kids—it’s too exhausting. I’m wondering if we could help them start a side hustle they can do from home.”

“That way, they could go out and take jobs during the day and work from home at night while staying with their kids…”

“Hold on! Are all the street office hires like Qin Fang—single moms? Surely many of the kids have dads, right? Can’t the dads help out at night?” Yang Junyao said in surprise.

Wei Sheng: “…”

Clearly, this rich woman had never experienced real hardship.

“That’s because a lot of men think that as long as they’re earning money to support the family, they’ve done enough. Housework and childrearing? That’s a woman’s job. Otherwise, why do you think all these stay-at-home moms have to drag their kids everywhere?” Shen Yi said with a grim face.

This was exactly why she had no interest in marrying or having children.

In China, whether or not a woman works after marriage, no matter how busy her job is, society expects her to handle all the household chores and raise the children. If the child turns out badly, it’s automatically the mother’s fault.

As for the dad? He’s out earning money for the family, isn’t he? What more do you want from him?

Yeah, what more could you want? Even the media, when describing modern parenting, always preface a dad’s role with “helping” take care of the kids.

Helping? Ha!

As if the child wasn’t biologically his.

When moms take care of kids, no matter how hard it is, it’s just seen as their duty.

When dads occasionally pitch in, it’s like they deserve a medal.

Shen Yi asked herself honestly—could she accept this kind of marriage and parenting dynamic?

Absolutely not. Then why get married at all? She already had money, a home, a car, and tens of millions in annual income. Why should she give that up to become someone’s unpaid nanny and personal ATM?

Zhang Hanxing kept his head down in silence, trying not to become the target of Queen Shen’s wrath.

Wei Sheng had nothing to fear. In fact, he joined in the rant willingly.

As a man, he also looked down on those kinds of men. Never mind if the wife had a job too—even if she didn’t, raising kids and doing housework was still more exhausting than a day job.

And what’s wrong with spending time with your kid after work?

Wei Sheng honestly couldn’t understand the logic of some men. Before marriage, they were terrified of ending the family line and would go to any length to find a wife.

But once married and with children, suddenly the burden of continuing the family name got dumped entirely on the wife. Some men were decent enough to hand over their earnings, but the worst ones wouldn’t even do that. They’d complain that their wives didn’t bring in money and use the whole “independent woman” narrative to manipulate them into working and handling everything at home perfectly…

Do you think you’re better than God?

“I just don’t get it. It’s all work—so why do men get to just grab a bag and head to the office while women have to think about their families and kids? And now you expect stay-at-home moms to reenter the workforce and still juggle both family and career?” Yang Junyao fumed after Wei Sheng’s rant.

Originally, girls her age—especially in the entertainment industry—still harbored some romantic ideals. But after joining “The Wage Earners” and witnessing the hard lives of stay-at-home moms, Yang Junyao’s scalp tingled

Zhou Mingxing used to worry she was too lovestruck. Now he had to warn her not to show her aversion to men too blatantly on camera—how else could they stir up CP buzz with the male leads in upcoming dramas?

“CP hype is fine, just don’t catch feelings for real!” Yang Junyao told her agent, still spooked.

Zhou Mingxing: “…”

He really didn’t get girls these days anymore.

(End of Chapter)