In some areas of the southwest, during the winter months, attending banquets becomes the most hectic task. Over two months, it’s common to attend dozens of banquets. Those with large social circles might even run around to as many as twenty households in a single day, delivering cash gifts and hurrying off, hardly having time to eat.
There are numerous types of banquets here: aside from weddings and funerals, there are also housewarming parties, full-month celebrations, and traditional ceremonies like ‘opening the financial door’ and ‘setting up gravestones’. Some people host a banquet simply for building a floor, while others throw a party after undergoing sterilization surgery. Rumors even spread about absurdities like ‘renting a wife to host a banquet’.
As early as over a decade ago, many places began to tackle the issue of ‘excessive banquets’. Such incidents occasionally make the news; for instance, in Weixin County, Yunnan, on December 29 last year, eight banquets were stopped within a single day. The news reported that ‘staff patiently explained policies and dangers to everyone, ultimately guiding seven households to recognize the problem and voluntarily agree to cancel the banquets’. In another case, the circumstances were more complex. According to reports, the individual improperly organized a housewarming banquet under the guise of a wedding, ‘the staff quickly saw through their tricks, intervened, and confiscated the invitation book on the spot’.
After the Spring Festival holiday this year, I visited County A by the borders of Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan, interacting with local villagers and officials to understand how this phenomenon originated and has continued, ensnaring many like a whirlpool.
Wu Haiyan from Dahai Village still doesn’t know who reported her intention to hold a banquet.
On February 22, the sixth day of the new lunar year, at noon, she sent a message to over 200 people on WeChat to invite them to ‘celebrate the joy of opening the financial door together’. The banquet was booked at a sour soup pig’s hoof restaurant in town for noon on the thirteenth day of the lunar year. It takes 15 minutes to drive from Dahai Village, and people from the village knew about it; Wu Haiyan had even arranged for a vehicle for the occasion.
However, just over ten minutes after the message was sent, the village secretary and village chief arrived and directly informed her that the town had received a report and ‘the banquet is not allowed’.
‘Why can’t I hold it? I’m just inviting relatives and friends for a meal; many people hold banquets; am I doing something wrong?’ Wu Haiyan recalled her response at that time.
Her intention to host the banquet reached a group with over 300 people at the county level. Someone took a screenshot of her WeChat message and complained, saying, ‘There are indeed too many unnecessary banquets in H Town’. In the group, the secretary of H Town replied, ‘Thank you for your concern, and we will ensure she can’t hold it!’
For over a decade, County A has been taking strict measures against unnecessary banquets, particularly those outside the scope of weddings and funerals. According to local propaganda reports, the usual process is that once the government discovers a lead or receives a report, grassroots cadres will visit, ‘patiently persuade’, ‘clarify policies’, and ‘successfully convince the public’.
Unnecessary banquets are not only limited to one county or province; they have a certain universality. Media reports show various videos from other places of on-site persuasion. For example, in a town in Ankang, Shaanxi, on December 30 last year, a town cadre lamented, ‘We’ve been saying that banquets shouldn’t be held indiscriminately since 2017. Eight years have passed, but people still don’t realize the seriousness of the matter!’
On the eleventh day of the lunar year, I met Wu Haiyan in Dahai Village. Despite being approached by a stranger, she was warm and attentive, immediately asking if I had eaten, ‘Let me steam some rice for you’. After I explained my intention, Wu Haiyan’s tone became urgent as she had a lot to clarify.
One of the most important points she emphasized multiple times was that the banquet was ‘not to collect favors’; it was ‘just a gathering for neighbors to share a meal’—in local rural culture, ‘opening the financial door’ is a ceremony involving a Taoist priest chanting spells and performing rituals, considered a form of superstitious belief.
● Wu Haiyan’s medicinal wine. Photo by Zhou Hang
She said that ‘opening the financial door’ is intended to dispel misfortune and turn luck around, ‘to resolve (health issues)’.Three to four years ago, she underwent surgery for cervical cancer in a big city, and since then, she has suffered from constant health problems. As she spoke, she lifted her sweater to reveal the surgical scar on her abdomen and brought out a large jar of medicinal wine, stating that it was her lifeline.
Again, she explained, ‘I’m really not looking for trouble (with the banquet)’. Her husband added that Wu Haiyan is illiterate, and she accidentally sent out the message due to ‘tapping randomly on her phone’.
According to Wu Haiyan’s claims, the persuasion process was quite simple. The village cadres didn’t mention where she went wrong; they only made requests for her to invite just a few of the closest family members for a meal, and she agreed.
On-site, the village cadres dictated a message which her husband edited. Wu Haiyan sent it out again: ‘Dear relatives and friends! This is Wu Haiyan from Dahai; according to the village committee’s new customs, I will not be holding any unnecessary banquets, and I want to clarify to everyone that I will not hold it!’
‘What happens if you don’t listen to the advice?’ I asked.
‘The government’s word must be obeyed,’ Wu Haiyan retorted, ‘Who dares to disobey?’
Speaking of this, Wu Haiyan also expressed her strong aversion to unnecessary banquets. ‘I really hate those (unnecessary banquets) held for moving house,’ she said. Since her son’s wedding over a decade ago, her family has not held any banquets—’There has been no occasion to do so.’ Her husband interjected with a complaint, ‘Every year, we don’t know how much money we send out.’
However, several neighbors mentioned that Wu Haiyan herself did host a funeral banquet four to five years ago. Her younger brother, who died unmarried, was her husband’s youngest brother, and since both parents had passed, her husband organized the funeral.
Dahai Village has about a hundred households, distributed along the provincial road, making it a diverse surname village. Five or six main surnames can be named. During winter, the hills remain green, and patches are cultivated with crops like cabbage. The land resources are not plentiful, but there are many people; within a two-kilometer radius, there are over ten similar villages with distinctly mountainous characteristics in their names like ditches, flats, dams, and tops.
Overall, life in this rural area has two modes: most of the time, only the elderly and children remain at home, living a self-sufficient life that has continued for hundreds of years, with meals typically consisting of stir-fried bacon, fried potatoes, and boiled cabbage; but during the winter months, returning workers change life completely. People light the stove, and usually, there’s no need to cook at home—either they’re at a banquet or on their way to one or helping with hosting.
During my visits in Dahai Village, four to five households expressed their disdain for unnecessary banquets. Those who were straightforward used profanities to describe them as ‘a mess, ridiculous efforts’. More tactful individuals just shook their heads, stating, ‘Of course, we detest those.’
Li Guifen, who still lives in a bungalow, sighed when talking about this. Before the New Year, she borrowed 20,000 yuan from relatives just to barely get through. Just in December, she spent over 10,000 yuan on excessive banquets, and a few thousand more during the New Year. Here, the money for gifts is called ‘renqing’, and attending banquets is referred to as ‘sending renqing’.
Especially during auspicious days, for instance, on the 24th of December this year, Sis Li mentioned she rushed to twenty banquets; on the tenth day of the following lunar year, another ‘good day’, she also attended over ten households. At this time, it became a rush to attend banquets. The streets of the county seat were filled with the sound of firecrackers, and wedding processions lined the roads.
On such days, Sis Li has to get up by 8 or 9 a.m. and spend her entire day delivering gifts, sometimes even needing to rush to two counties, grabbing a meal when possible, while if she misses out, she has to go hungry, continuing the next day with those she didn’t finish.
Li Guifen roughly estimates that half of the banquets she attended were ‘unnecessary’. ‘Housewarming, opening the financial door, ceremonies honoring ancestors, or celebrating the elderly’s birthday.’ She spoke gently but with a tone full of resignation, ‘We just get too burdened by these banquets and become poor because of it. But if others invite us, we can’t just not go.’
This seems to be the common sentiment towards unnecessary banquets. Even those who curse them would nod when asked if they would attend if invited. In fact, reports of such incidents are quite rare. Some say, ‘We wouldn’t report this kind of thing.’ More than one person feels that reporting doesn’t work, ‘Some people reported in the past, and there are still so many now.’
Here, the concept of ‘human feelings’ is like a web one can’t escape. An outworker from County A declared on social media this winter that he would stop attending unnecessary banquets, yet received five invitations for housewarming parties and reported four of them. The remaining one, ‘was for an extremely close relative’; last December, he specifically drove over a thousand kilometers from Zhejiang for it, so ‘that one is hard to report’.
● Huang Chunlan’s record of gifts. Photo by Zhou Hang
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when the issue of attending banquets became a burden. Huang Chunlan, who runs a small shop in the village, has documented her gifting expenses from the past decade. As early as 2015, she recorded nearly 50 instances of gift-giving, meticulously detailing them on paper; in 2014 there were even more, totaling over 28,000 yuan.
The gift account typically records just names and amounts; recalling it can be quite hard. Sometimes, a similar name appears in two years, only then recalling ‘once it was for a daughter’s wedding, once it was for a housewarming.’ No matter the type of banquet, the required amount depends on closeness; one must give the expected sum.
From her records, the minimum gift amount in the village has risen from 50 yuan a decade ago to 100 yuan now. If sending to a distant relative, it’s at least 500 yuan; if it’s for immediate family, amounts can climb to several thousand or even over ten thousand. Meanwhile, at local restaurants, a table of banquet dishes costs around 300 to 500 yuan, with the host family usually making a profit of several thousand yuan for a single banquet.
‘People say hold a banquet once every three years, and some can make a profit; if you don’t hold one for three years, you’ll face huge losses.’ The more she talked, the more agitated she became, wiping her face and sticking her tongue out, her face turning red, even tearing up slightly at the corners of her eyes.
Huang Chunlan feels that in the past few years, since the pandemic, the number of banquets around her has increased significantly, ‘with unnecessary banquets making up more than half of them.’ Over the past two years, she has purposely reduced her social engagements, ‘now avoiding visiting villages next door or friends.’
In 2025 by the lunar calendar, she sent gifts 29 times, which she claims is among the lowest in recent years, only slightly more than during the pandemic year of 2020. This year, there weren’t any immediate family events, but she still spent over 7,000 yuan combined.
Last year, the highest expenditure went to a funeral; her former mother-in-law passed away, and her husband, Lao Wen, presented 600 yuan to each of the three brothers of his ex-wife. Since over a decade ago, the village started to normalize that during funerals, every son sets up a gift account and collects ‘human feelings’.
Huang Chunlan has one son and one daughter, which is relatively few in the village. The last banquet they hosted was in December 2018 for her son’s wedding. She keeps the records of the gifts received, using them as references for sending gifts later. The record showed dozens of pages and an estimation of 400 to 500 individuals, with the most generous gifts reaching ’50 yuan’, amounting to over 87,000 yuan total. If calculated by today’s standards, it would certainly exceed 100,000 yuan.
Apart from banquet days, their regular life is about as frugal as it can be. A leg of their sofa is propped up by three bricks, and when her husband Lao Wen gets up for a meal, one of the bricks fell, almost causing a fall. To entertain me that day, Huang Chunlan specially fried eggs, carefully picking out scraps of shells to finish; the few remaining sunflower seeds on the stove were collected back into a bag.
If she doesn’t find a reason to host unnecessary banquets, the next time she does one, it won’t be until her grandson gets married, and the eldest grandson is only in third grade now. ‘Honestly, I am eager to find some reason to hold one,’ she said shyly, laughing.
Like being trapped in a whirlpool, not knowing how to extricate oneself, Huang Chunlan feels quite conflicted internally, ‘Hold one, it’s indeed a concern in many aspects. You have to provide for others too. If we calculate the profit of several thousands, you still need to repay favors. But if you don’t hold it, (the money) can’t be kept.’
If really looking to ‘do something’, she could simply host a wedding. There are local customs about hosting weddings, known colloquially as ‘old weddings’. Twenty years ago, she divorced and remarried without hosting a wedding. She is considerably concerned whether the government would control such events, asking me seriously, ‘Do you think this could be legally questionable?’
● Residents of Dahai Village cultivating the land on a hillside. Photo by Zhou Hang
Like many surrounding areas, County A began addressing the ‘excessive banquets’ over a decade ago. If there have been any changes in recent years, local officials frequently mention the term ‘soft governance’.
This term originates from one of the county officials, Li Jun, involved in governance work. Upon learning of my visit, he took the initiative to host me. Throughout our conversation, he emphasized this term every half hour or so.
‘In recent years, our country has gradually transitioned into rule of law, so we are making less use of our previously direct methods,’ he stated.
‘Direct methods’ refer to some severe practices, such as local cadre overturning tables or sending banquet food to nursing homes. Two years ago, local self-media reported cases where grassroots officials directly overturned pots in villages.
In several villages in County A, I also heard villagers recount these measures. However, people’s evaluations were often not negative; instead, they felt these actions had actual deterrent effects, ‘Many people dare not hold them anymore.’
Such measures are no longer allowed now. Li Jun noted that the current social evaluations are diverse, ‘especially with everyone having social media, using simple and rough methods can quickly lead to public opinion backlash.’
He believes that governance still relies on public sentiment, ‘to guide everyone’s thinking;’ ‘We feel that one fail-safe method, the most effective means, is mobilizing people not to attend banquets. If everyone refuses to eat at banquets, the hosts will see no profit.’
This year, County A has put considerable effort into public advocacy, with language that is straightforward, such as analyzing the incessant nature of unnecessary banquets which results from two main reasons: one, people suppress their shame to accumulate wealth; two, they suffer losses and use it as an opportunity to recover losses. Tackling the former is a common desire, but tolerating the latter is bound to impede a resolution.
In addition to ‘soft governance’, Li Jun also frequently mentioned, ‘not adopting a one-size-fits-all approach’. Hosting a housewarming banquet for 10 or 15 tables, mainly inviting relatives and friends, usually doesn’t trigger a report; County A now permits that.
But once a report is received, work must be conducted. As he spoke, Li Jun showed me WeChat conversations, where a colleague reported daily situations. Over the past few days, they had approximately three or four reports daily, mostly indicating ‘successfully persuaded,’ along with some marked ‘the involved party’s attitude unclear, arrange for village cadres to follow up.’
Sometimes, this work is not easy. It’s like a cat-and-mouse game; Li Jun gave an example where individuals might conduct banquets over several days, with each event being small in scale, making them harder to discover, ‘So we need to mobilize the strength of the people.’ He raised his voice, stating that this situation shouldn’t be viewed as a problem to resolve immediately, ‘We need to work persistently and consistently.’
● County town of A. Photo by Zhou Hang
Similarly aligned with Li Jun’s views, Shen Li, the secretary of Y Town, informed me that this year, the higher authorities specifically released documents ‘requiring that rigorous measures should not be forcibly applied’. He stated that the governance of unnecessary banquets in County A is not a top-down order; no assessment indicators have been set for grassroots work.
Y Town has over 60,000 people, making it the most populous town in County A. This year, it issued an initiative ten days earlier than the county did. Shen Li stated that with the approach of the New Year, the town noticed a change: ‘This year, the momentum of hosting banquets is very strong.’ ‘Public complaints are rampant, all reflecting this issue, saying they can’t afford it anymore.’
He is unsure about the reasons for the increase in banquets this year but believes it must be related to various factors, ‘The economy might be struggling; those with little money may be using this to relieve their stress.’
Shen Li attaches great importance to the work regarding unnecessary banquets. After not long in Y Town, he added many local large groups, and upon seeing leads on banquets, he would pass them to the relevant staff to handle. Once, in a government work group, a citizen posted an invitation to a housewarming banquet, and he rebuked the indifference of the staff, insisting, ‘You must guide this, right? There are elderly citizens observing how serious the government is.’
During this Year of the Lunar New Year, Y Town organized a meeting with the heads of seven restaurants capable of serving large-scale banquets. At the meeting, businesses signed a ‘commitment letter’ agreeing not to host unnecessary banquets.
Getting businesses to cooperate with government work is Shen Li’s idea; drawing up a working group comprising public security, fire safety, and market supervision will collaborate upon receiving reports. Shen Li states that every department’s participation has justifiable reasons: ‘With so many people dining together, food safety is a concern, so the market supervision department should intervene. Additionally, any large gatherings can also be monitored by the police.’
‘How effective are these measures?’ I asked.
Shen Li pondered his response, stating, ‘We can only say we have curbed the momentum.’
Governance of unnecessary banquets brings forth some feelings of helplessness for him, often mentioning how ‘it’s difficult,’ feeling that it’s nearly impossible to eradicate the behavior, as ‘ordinary citizens aren’t entirely complying with the government. Logically, as long as any household hosting a banquet is not visited, they won’t be able to proceed, but due to social pressures, people still attend.’
This year, Y Town saw a positive example concerning unnecessary banquets: a local community named ‘Dolou’ (a natural village) organized a meeting where village residents raised their hands to collectively pledge to neither assist nor attend unnecessary banquets.
Local officials explained that the town hopes to ‘create an atmosphere against unnecessary banquets’; they checked on the situation and learned that Dolou planned the meeting themselves, prompting community leaders to film a video on site.
Dolou Village, being close to Y Town main street, is a large migrant village with over 200 households, many of whom moved over from deep mountain areas in recent years. In that meeting, 41 households signed and fingerprinted commitments, with over ten different surnames participating.
The organizer of this meeting was Li Kaiyou, a humble man in his forties who is not very articulate, habitually looking at the ground when he speaks. He took on the role of leader of the Dolou Village group seven or eight years ago. With no salary or benefits, he describes this job as ‘serving the people’.
Taking care of the 200-plus households in this village keeps him busy. He leave for village duty early every morning, bringing a broom and spending a couple of hours cleaning. When it’s dirty somewhere, he promptly asks the janitor to clean or does it himself. The village is large, and there’s always something to concern him; he also resolves conflicts, visiting families where couples might argue to calm them.
He recalls that over 20 years ago, Dolou Village only had 60 to 70 households, and various banquets took place like housewarmings, birthdays, and anniversaries for the elderly. Back then, no one oversaw the events, and assistance was offered, but the gifts then were only around 10 yuan, primarily for ‘the fun of it.’ As time passed, the village expanded, gifts increased, and even those emerging from prison sought to host a banquet, ‘but only a few relatives would attend.’
It was over ten years ago when the community intervened to manage these banquets, either persuading or taking direct action, ultimately leading to a decline in unnecessary banquets.
Li Kaiyou stated that continuous efforts by the government have raised villagers’ awareness. Prior to becoming a leader, he would already remind everyone in the group not to hold unnecessary banquets; afterward, as a leader, he repeatedly sent guidelines, prohibiting dining at these events at least twice a year, and the villagers actively supported by expressing approval through thumbs-up emojis.
He led by example and even refused to attend unnecessary banquets for family members, such as a birthday party for a cousin. Therefore, he also lost some goodwill. Last August, when his daughter got married, multiple families chose not to attend.
However, he shared that in recent years, the village has effectively eliminated unnecessary banquets; occasionally, some people host them but mostly in secret at restaurants, with few residents attending. This year, in surrounding villages, unnecessary banquets have tarnished the scene, prompting them to convene meetings and establish community regulations.
Dolou Village, with its population of over 200, has seen its villagers busy, primarily occupied with formal events like weddings or funerals. On the ninth of the lunar new year, during peak wedding dates, Li Kaiyou said he needed to send gifts to 14 families. There are often so many celebrations that families split up, with children responsible for visiting a few neighbors while they entrust others with sending gifts or directly transferring cash.
● The pledge signed during the Dolou Village meeting. Source: Internet
On the same day as the wedding celebration I attended, household duties dictated the pace of expense tracking for the family. Most gifting occurs close to the wedding, and gifts reflect immediate family and friends with neighbors also sending gifts.
The next day, Li Kaiyou had to drive for more than an hour with his wife to attend another wedding elsewhere in a different town, where his uncle’s daughter was getting married. On the same day, Li Kaiyou’s aunt was also hosting a wedding, but this was too far to attend; he could only send money. For each family, the expected gift is around 500 yuan, which is not too much for relatives, ‘I simply want to celebrate’.
Besides these two families, gifts are mainly sent to neighbors and friends. This gives one a glimpse of the vast social web maintained. He waved his hand, pointing from one hilltop to another, ‘These people here, these are all my friends and relatives.’
He smiled broadly, pointed out, raising two fingers, ‘I’ll probably be spending at least 2,000 yuan today.’
During years with many weddings, Li Kaiyou is likely to spend 7,000 to 8,000 yuan gifting. Remaining behind to care for his over-80-year-old mother, he hasn’t left the village, previously relying on construction work to assist others in building houses, each day earning between 100 to 150 yuan. In the past two years, all three of his children have started earning, sending him 500 yuan each monthly, so he stopped working and began farming and planting for extra income, which he now earns from selling scallions for a few thousand.
Li Kaiyou expressed, ‘Life nowadays is the best; every household lives happily.’
Overall, the residents of County A always maintain a massive web of social interaction. In other words, the everyday lives of its people are more characterized by a society of acquaintances rather than kinship, which might not be coincidental.
Cultural scholars have noted that due to harsh living conditions and frequent natural disasters, villages have not sustained themselves for long periods, struggling to foster sizable lineage-based organizations. The absence of kinship forces individuals to cultivate relationships for mutual assistance, granting them significant social autonomy, often leading to more friendships beyond immediate relatives. Such village contexts are known for extensive networks, yet the blur of ‘human feelings’ lacks the authority to regulate behavior as it breaks down.
The article also analyzes how in the post-1980s era, two trends have led to a rapid collapse of moral and social sentiments in these earlier independent villages: firstly, governmental presence has greatly withdrawn from villages; secondly, the logic of marketization has increasingly permeated, leading to the monetary-centric outlook taking hold. In these ‘atomized’ villages, the only recognized unit of identity and action rests on the nuclear family. The essence of the alteration in ‘human feelings’ refers to when they convert into purely profit-driven motives.