In Chinese Factory, Rhythms of Trade Replace Rural Life
On Saturday afternoons, the factory complex owned by the world's biggest shoe manufacturer shuts down. More than 70,000 workers, mostly young women from farming villages across China, pour out of the plants and into the dormitories and cafeterias, the paved streets and parks of the Yue Yuen industrial complex.
Yue Yuen is an entire universe that replaces the village world young migrants leave behind. Just like the farms from which these workers come, Yue Yuen has seasons and rhythms, but ones set by commercial dictates in countries thousands of miles away. Yue Yuen runs its own water-treatment systems and power stations. Within each factory compound are dormitories and canteens, post-office and phone-company branches, medical clinics and shops. One factory complex has a 100-bed hospital, a kindergarten, a 300-seat movie theater and a performance troupe. The city sometimes borrows the ladder from its fire truck, the tallest one in the area, to put out fires.
Zhang Qianqian , 21 years old, arrived at Yue Yuen three years ago. She says she left after 18 months because of conflicts with her boss and briefly returned home. She worked at an electronics factory last year before quitting to go home again, this time for her grandmother's 80th birthday. In February, she rejoined Yue Yuen. "I've moved here and there, and I always seem to end up in this factory," she says.
This is life for the millions of young Chinese who are powering their country's new industrial machine. In a community such as Yue Yuen, they find new lives full of hard work and long hours, but conditions far better than the sweatshops many imagine Chinese factories to be. They have migrated into China's cities in vast numbers and are creating models for manufacturing that outstrip even the factory towns of the West's Industrial Revolution.
One-third of the world's shoes are made in Guangdong, the province that borders Hong Kong. In this world, Yue Yuen is king. Established in 1989 by Pou Chen Corp. of Taiwan, Yue Yuen is the largest supplier to Nike, Adidas, Reebok and other brands. The company runs three factory complexes in Gaobu, a suburb of Dongguan, and is one of the biggest employers in the province.
Yue Yuen runs some factories that make the raw materials for shoes and other factories that cut, stitch and assemble these various parts. It employs designers to work with shoe companies to develop new styles. A Yue Yuen assembly line now takes 10 hours to make a shoe, from readying raw materials to having a finished product ready to ship, compared with 25 days four years ago.
Yue Yuen dormitories on a Sunday morning.
China's new industrial might is powered by one of the largest migrations in human history. China now has 114 million migrants, people who left their rural villages to work in cities. Those who left in the 1980s and early 1990s headed into the unknown, often driven by a need for cash and a desire to earn money to build a house back home. Their work was still tied to the farming season. When they made enough money, many returned to the village for good.
For the new generation, migration is an accepted path to a better life. Younger and better-educated than their predecessors, many of today's rural migrants come straight from school and haven't farmed a day in their lives. They are eager to taste city life and spend money on themselves. They are more ambitious and less easily satisfied than their elders.
In a world in flux, Yue Yuen offers a stability that contrasts with the impermanence of migrant life. Many factories in the Pearl River Delta are unsafe and owe workers money. At Yue Yuen, the salary is average -- about $72 a month after deductions for room and board -- and the company has a reputation for hard workdays and harsh managers. But wages are paid on time. Work is capped at 11 hours a day and 60 hours a week, with Sundays off. Workers sleep 10 to a room with hot showers and adequate meals. Eighty-five percent of the workers at Yue Yuen are young women.
Over the years, a worker at Yue Yuen may quit and go home -- to see a sick relative, to have a baby -- and then return. Despite a 60% annual turnover rate, the factory is a stable place of employment for many. Zhou Yinfang joined in 1991 when she was 17. She met her husband in the factory, took time off to have two children and now manages 1,500 workers. "I would like to work here until I retire," says Ms. Zhou, her voice raspy from years of shouting over the machines.
Factory society divides along provincial lines, exaggerating the divisions outside. Workers from the same province stick together, speaking dialects others can't understand. Local stereotypes color hiring. Many factory bosses refuse to hire people from Henan because they are considered untrustworthy, while those from Anhui are perceived as overly sly.
Almost all the managers at Yue Yuen are migrants who started out on the factory floor. They're ranked by an intricate hierarchy. There are 13 grades of manager from trainee to managing director. There is a cafeteria exclusively for those in charge of a production line and another for chief supervisors, one step up. Only line leaders and above are permitted to live inside the factory with a child.
Life inside Yue Yuen's walls can be turbulent, with thousands of young people freed from the constraints of the village. Petty theft is rampant. Gangs, organized along provincial lines, coordinate with allies inside to smuggle shoe parts or rob workers of their pay. Love triangles and extramarital affairs are common, as are unplanned pregnancies and abortions. Last year, a female worker committed suicide because of a failed love affair, according to Luke Lee, a company executive in charge of workers' health and safety. Another gave birth in her dorm bathroom and threw her baby into the toilet, he says.
"We have 70,000 people. It is a city," says Mr. Lee. "Whatever problems a city has, we have in the factory."
* * *
The traditional Chinese calendar divides the year into 24 points based on the changing angle of the sun. The year begins with lichun, the start of spring in February, the time for sowing. The calendar dictates when to plant melons, vegetables and coarse cereals and when to harvest rice, fruits and cabbage. It predicts the best time to collect manure and fix fences for livestock.
The global calendar of shoe manufacturing also picks up in the spring. The machines gear up in March and quicken through June. In July, when the farmer's calendar urges people to move fast before the soil dries, the shoe industry falls into a summer lull. Orders drop to their lowest in August, with plants sometimes running at 20% capacity. In September and October, the machines run full-tilt again, while November and December are go-for-broke months to meet the Christmas rush.
In mid-June, the slow season of the global shoe cycle was beginning. On a Sunday morning, most of the tenants of Building J, Room 805 lounged in bed in their pajamas. They worked in the Yue Yuen No. 8 factory. The 210-square-foot room contained bunks that ran in two rows. The spaces under the beds were a tangle of high-heeled sandals, sneakers, and Hello Kitty flip-flops.
Zhang Qianqian had come to visit friends in Room 805 from a dorm down the hall. A stocky Anhui-province native, she wore jeans and a black sports watch. Ms. Zhang reminisced about mornings at home when her grandmother would make breakfast. "She calls me to come eat it and sometimes I am still sleeping. Then my father says to me, 'You are lying in bed, you won't even come to eat breakfast your grandmother has made for you.' " She frowned. "At home they are always criticizing you."
The workers had a complex relationship with home. When they weren't there, they missed it. But when they spent time in their villages, they bored quickly and longed to return to the city.
The girls knew everything about how the factory worked. They knew their bosses' salaries and the subtle distinctions between every grade of manager. They had all seen plenty of theft. They were also proud of what they had done, however hard the living.
Jia Jimei, foreground, of Henan province, does chores in her dormitory on a Sunday, the day production lines shut down.
"Even if I had the means, I wouldn't want to go to college," said Jia Jimei, who had just walked into Room 805 from an early-morning shopping spree. She left her home in Henan province when she was in ninth grade.
"I would finish high school and start my own business," Ms. Jia said. She had scorn for people who only studied. "We come out as teenagers to work. We have more experience. We can do business. The college students, all they know how to do is to read books."
Ms. Zhang bragged that she had worked on all the famous brands: "Nike, Salomon, Adidas. I have worked on them all." She said she had worked on a pair of Nike shoes for a fashion model that sold for $600.
That drew an awed silence from the girls in the room. "Even if I had that much money, I would not spend it on a pair of shoes!" Ms. Jia said at last.
"At that level, it is not even money to them anymore," Ms. Zhang speculated.
Back in their villages, families try to pressure the girls. Send money home; don't get a boyfriend; marry sooner; come back. For the most part, the girls do as they please. Ms. Zhang says her parents don't know her phone number inside the factory. When she wanted to talk, she would call them; they were almost always home.
* * *
In July, the hottest season of the year according to the farmer's calendar, work at Yue Yuen slowed further. Many workers went home on leave, depending on which part of the shoe they made: Ms. Jia, who made soles, went home for a month; Ms. Zhang, who cut material to make shoe uppers, stayed on.
Ms. Zhang woke up past 10 a.m. one Saturday in late July. She put on jeans, a tank top and tan high heels with pointy toes, and walked downstairs into the blinding heat of day.
Outside the compound, the streets surrounding Yue Yuen teemed with opportunities for spending and self-improvement. The Hopeful Computer Training Center was full. A store offered a men's dress shirt for 20 yuan, or about $2.40. A mobile-phone shop featured the latest models. The Shangjiang City Health Station advertised one-minute pregnancy tests, abortions and treatment for venereal diseases.
"During the year, only these few months are a bit more fun," Ms. Zhang said. Inside a department store, she fingered a yellow high-heeled shoe with glittery pink hearts on the strap. "This is very fashionable this year," she said. Shopping was a favorite pastime now. In her first 18 months away from home, she had sent home almost $500 to help support a younger brother still in school. But she hadn't sent money home in a year.
"Food, clothes, going out to play, I don't know where the money goes," she said. "To hell with sending money home."
Out on the hot street she stopped to greet friends as she walked. She shouted at a girl walking by. "Qu Jimei! Where have you been?"
A girl with her hair dyed in red streaks said, "I'm going home."
Taken aback, Ms. Zhang held the girl's hand for a moment. "Well, good-bye," she said.
To be a migrant is to be surrounded by people leaving. "You meet so many friends in the factory, and then they go home," said Ms. Zhang.
She continued along the street. Between the stores lay alleys strewn with garbage. At the ends of the alleys was farmland. In fields of leafy green vegetables, older men and women labored under the glare of the sun.
* * *
When the girls at Yue Yuen go home, their parents want them to rest rather than working on the farm, believing they already work too hard. The girls keep farmers' hours, rising at dawn and turning in early. But they spend most of their waking hours watching television. In the countryside, time passes unmeasured.
At Yue Yuen, time is meted out in precise increments. One production line has 470 workers; an athletic shoe may pass through 200 stations. Workers in the cutting department stamp sheets of mesh fabric into pieces. Stitchers sew logos and shoelace eyelets onto these pieces to make the shoe upper. Stock fitters glue layers of rubber and plastic to make the sole. Assemblers press the sole and upper together, insert a foot-shaped plastic mold, called a last, and glue the two parts together. A machine applies 88 pounds of pressure to each shoe. Workers remove the lasts, check for flaws, and pack the shoes in boxes. Each shoe has a "Made in China" label on its tongue. Yue Yuen has 173 production lines in factories throughout China, each turning out 2,000 pairs of sneakers a day.
In its first decade, Yue Yuen often worked employees through midnight with few days off. But in the late 1990s, customers such as Nike Inc. and Adidas Salomon AG pushed suppliers to improve worker conditions. Yue Yuen switched to an 11-hour workday and gave employees Sundays off. It established a counseling center for questions and complaints. It improved safety measures and abolished military-style calisthenics and uniforms.
The Western companies that pushed factories to improve conditions also demanded lower prices. In 2001, Adidas initiated a program at Yue Yuen to increase efficiency. Workers say they work fewer hours but are more exhausted because tasks are precisely parceled out to ensure almost no downtime. Brands now give factories 30 days to deliver an order; three years ago it was 60 days; a decade back it was 90. Orders are getting smaller, allowing designers to respond more rapidly when fashions change.
There is a plastic sign in front of every station noting how many seconds it takes that worker to complete a task. Employees are timed by supervisors with stopwatches. Productivity at Yue Yuen is up 10% in the past three years. An Adidas investigation into the impact of its program found that workers initially felt more stress but over time got used to it.
* * *
August is the time to replant autumn vegetables. Inside Yue Yuen, a new season had begun: The long approach to Christmas. After the easy rhythms of summer, workers worked overtime every weekday and all day Saturday.
"I have the worst headache," moaned Ms. Zhang on a Sunday morning early that month. "This is supposed to be the low season, but we have so many orders." It had been her 22nd birthday the day before. She had planned to celebrate with a friend but instead had to work.
Down the hall in Room 805, Ms. Jia had returned from her time at home. She was listless and unsmiling. "I thought about not returning," she said. "But there is nothing to do at home."
Her life in the factory was about to be rearranged. Once a year, Yue Yuen reassigns workers to new dorms to ensure that production teams live together. "We already have friends here," Ms. Jia said. "Now there is a chance we will all be scattered again."
The transfers came later that month. Girls who had been together every day now didn't know how to find each other. Many lost touch for good. They were working overtime every day. New workers were still arriving.
After payday in August, Ms. Zhang suddenly left the factory. Her roommates didn't know where she had gone. According to the factory, she was still registered as working there. Her sudden disappearance seemed to mock the precise system of schedules that had ordered life at Yue Yuen so well.
* * *
Opposite the factory entrance, down a dirt road lined with restaurant stalls, is a neighborhood of apartment buildings faced in red tile. The doors to the apartments are pieces of sheet metal.
On a Sunday afternoon in mid-October, Ms. Zhang materialized here. She was visiting a friend named Ge Li, a fellow Anhui native -- and former Yue Yuen worker -- living with her boyfriend in a single-room apartment. "It's not fun anymore," was all Ms. Zhang said about why she had left. She was thinking of going home, she said, or finding a job at a new factory.
In the weeks that followed, production pressures in the factory continued to build. In the countryside, it was lidong, the beginning of winter, the time to fix fences. Ms. Zhang continued to drift; her friends said they didn't know what she was planning to do.
In Ms. Zhang's old dorm at the factory, a roommate, Zhao Juan, seemed unmoved by her friend's departure. She was 19 and had worked at Yue Yuen for two years. She once quit to go home but recently returned. "A lot of people leave," she said. "But they all end up coming back to Yue Yuen."
中国打工妹：奏响生活新节奏
周六的下午，全球最大的制鞋厂下班了，7万多工人--大部分是从全国各地农村过来打工妹--从厂房群蜂拥而出，走进宿舍和食堂、走上铺著青砖的大街，或来到裕元工业区(Yue Yuen industrial complex)的公园。
裕元工业区内无所不有，完全取代了这些打工者原来生活的乡村。这里也有四季的变换和生活的节奏，只不过一切规则都由千里之外的外国商家制定。裕元工业区有自己的污水处理系统和发电站。每个厂区都有宿舍、食堂、邮局、电话分公司、诊所和商店。有个厂区还建了一座有100个床位的医院、一个幼儿园、一个300个座位的电影院和一个剧团。有时，市区还要从这里借救火的云梯--这个地区最高的云梯。
21岁的张倩倩(Zhang Qianqian, 音译)是3年前到裕元工业区来的。她说18个月后就因为和上司闹矛盾，暂时走人回家了。她去年第二次辞职回家之前在一家电子厂工作，这次是因为要给80岁的祖母贺寿。2月份的时候她又回到裕元。“我来来回回地跑，最终好像都会回到这个厂里”，她说。
这就是为这个国家的新工业机器提供著源源动力的几百万中国打工者的生活。在类似裕元这样的工业区，他们的新生活就是长时间地辛苦工作，但条件还是比许多人想像的“血汗工厂”要好很多。他们大量涌入城市，创造的制造业模式甚至超过西方工业革命时期的厂镇。
全球有三分之一的鞋子是广东生产的。广东靠近香港。在这个领域，裕元可算是老大。裕元工业区由台湾宝成工业股份有限公司(Pou Chen Corp.)在1989年建成，是耐克(Nike)、阿迪达斯(Adidas)、锐步(Reebok)和其他一些牌子的最大供应商。这家公司在东莞郊区的高步镇有3个厂区，是广东吸收就业最多的公司之一。
裕元有的工厂制造鞋类原材料，其他负责裁剪、缝制和合成。这儿还有专门聘请的设计师和公司共同开发新式样。裕元的生产线每生产一只鞋--从准备好的原材料到可以出厂的成品--只要10个小时，4年前却要25天。
中国的新工业动力要归功于人类史上最大的一次移民潮。中国目前有1.14亿移民，他们离开乡村到城里打工。那些在80年代和90年代初背井离乡的人一头扎进未知的前途，往往是因为经济拮据，或是想挣点钱回家建房子。他们的工作和务农季节相连。一旦挣够钱，很多人就会回去，再也不出来。
对于新一代移民来说，外出打工意味著一条可以接受的通往更美好生活的途径。年轻一代比他们的前辈年龄更小、受过更好的教育。很多人刚从学校毕业就进城了，从来没务过农。他们急于尝试城市生活的滋味，自己挣钱自己花。他们比自己的长辈更有抱负，不像他们那么容易满足。
在一个变幻不定的世界中，裕元提供了一种稳定，而这种稳定又和年轻打工者漂泊的生活形成某种对比。珠江三角洲的很多工厂都不安全，经常拖欠工人工资。而在裕元，工资水准较平均，扣除住宿伙食费后大约72美元。这家公司以工作艰苦、管理苛刻出名，但薪水总可以按时发放。每天工作11个小时，每周最多60小时，周日休息。10个工人共用一间带热水淋浴的宿舍，伙食妥当。85%的裕元工人是打工妹。
这么多年来，裕元的工人离开工厂回家--看望生病的亲戚，或生孩子--然后又回来。尽管每年的人员流动率达60%，但对许多人来说，这里还算是个稳定的所在。周银芳(Zhou Yinfang, 音译)1991年加入工厂，当时才17岁。她在工厂认识了她的丈夫，后来请假生了两个孩子，现在她管著1500个工人。“我想在这里一直工作到退休”，她说。由于长年在机器噪音中叫喊，她的嗓音变得很沙哑。
各地来的打工者按照籍贯在厂内形成了一个个小社会，比厂外的拉帮结派还厉害。同一个省份来的工人往往聚成一起，说其他人听不懂的方言。地方偏见使招聘者往往戴有色眼镜来看人。许多工厂老板不请河南人干活，因为觉得他们不可信，而安徽来的人被认为太狡猾。
裕元的管理者几乎都是从工厂的基层开始的。他们按照复杂的等级制度排座次。从实习生到经理有13个级别。生产线管理人员有专门的餐厅；高层管理员也有专门餐厅，高一层楼梯。只有生产线负责人及以上级别的人员才批准在厂内带孩子生活。
成千上万的年轻人从农村的束缚中解放出来，使得裕元工业区围墙之内的生活热闹非凡。小偷小摸频繁发生；按省份不同形成的帮派和厂内的同乡联合起来偷窃材料或抢劫其他工人的工资。三角恋爱、婚外恋、意外怀孕和堕胎屡见不鲜。据公司负责员工健康安全的卢克?李(Luke Lee)称，去年有个女工因为恋爱失败而自杀，另一名女工在宿舍浴室生下一个婴儿后把孩子扔进厕所里。
“我们有7万工人，像个城市”，李说。“城市有什么问题，我们就有什么问题。”
中国传统阴历根据太阳直射角度的不同把一年分成24个节气。每年开始于立春（春天在2月开始）--播种的季节。阴历会说明什么时候该种瓜、种蔬菜和粗粮，什么时候收获大米、水果和卷心菜。日历也预测什么时候该积肥和给家畜修围栏。
全球的鞋类制造日历也以春天为开端。机器在3月份开始加足马力生产，直到6月份。7月份--当农家的日历催促人们在泥土乾燥之前赶紧行动时，制鞋业却进入夏季的暂停时期。8月份订单落到最低点，有时工厂只上20%的产能。9月和10月，机器再次满负荷运转。到11月和12月更是全力以赴的时候，厂家要迎接圣诞节前的购物潮。
6月中旬，全球制鞋业开始进入淡季。一个周日的上午，J楼805室的大部分寄宿工人还穿著睡衣窝在床上。她们在裕元第八厂工作。210平方英尺的房间内摆著两排上下铺床。床底乱七八糟地堆著高跟凉鞋、帆布胶底鞋和Hello Kitty人字拖。
张倩倩从走廊那头一个宿舍过来看望805室的朋友。张倩倩来自安徽，长得很结实，穿牛仔裤，戴一只黑色运动手表。张倩倩记得在家乡的时候，每天早上都是奶奶做早饭。“她过来叫我吃饭，有时我还在睡著。接著我爸跟我说：'你在床上躺著，甚至不过来吃奶奶给你做的早饭'”，她皱皱眉头说。“在家里，他们总是数落我。”
工人们和家里的关系很微妙。离家的时候很想念家人，而在村里的时候又很快就腻烦了，巴望著快点回到城市去。
姑娘们对工厂的运作了若指掌。他们知道上司的工资是多少，也了解每个级别的管理员之间的微妙界线。不管生活多艰苦，她们都为自己感到骄傲。
“即使有条件上大学，我也不想去”，刚刚走进805室的贾季梅(Jia Jimei, 音译)说。她一大早上街疯狂购物了。她初中三年级就离开在河南的家，来到这里。
“我愿意上完中学后自己做生意”，贾季梅说。她瞧不起那些只会读书的人。“我们十几岁就出来工作了。我们更有经验。我们会做生意。那些大学生只知道啃书本”。
张倩倩不无炫耀地称自己给很多名牌干过活。“耐克、所罗门(Salomon)、阿迪达斯。我都给他们干过活”。她说曾经给一个时装模特做过一双耐克鞋，卖600美元。
说完后屋里是一片崇拜的沉默。“即使有那个钱，我也不会花在一双鞋子上”，贾季梅最后说。
“到了那种程度，他们已经不在乎钱了”，张倩倩寻思道。
乡下的家人试图给这些女孩子施压：寄钱回家，不要在外面找男朋友，早点结婚，要回来。大部分女孩都会按家庭的意愿去做。张倩倩说父母不知道她在厂里的电话。想跟他们说话的时候，她就打回去。他们基本上都在家。
7月份，按照农家的日历是最热的时候，裕元的工作进度更加慢了。很多工人都请假回家，但按他们加工的部分不同而有所不同。贾季梅是做鞋底的，可以回家一个月，而张倩倩是剪鞋帮材料的，要留下。
7月底的一个周六，张倩倩10点过后才起床。她套上牛仔裤、背心，蹬上一双深褐色高跟尖头鞋，走下楼，扎进滚滚热浪中。
裕元厂区周围的街上到处是花钱提高自己的机会。希望电脑培训中心(Hopeful Computer Training Center)里挤满了人；男士服装店里的衬衫20元一件，相当于2.4美元；手机店里有最新的款式；上江城卫生站(Shangjiang City Health Station)打出广告，称能提供一分钟怀孕测试、流产、性病治疗等服务。
“一年中只有这几月稍微有点意思”，张倩倩说。她在一家百货店里摆弄一双黄色高跟鞋，鞋带上有发光的粉红色心形装饰。“今年很流行这款”，她说。现在购物是最好的消遣。在离开家的头18个月，她寄了将近500美元回家，资助还在上学的弟弟。但她有一年没寄钱回家了。
“吃的、穿的、出去玩，我不知道钱都哪儿去了”，她说。“哪儿还有钱寄回家。”
在燥热的街上走著，她停下来跟朋友打个招呼。她喊一个正在走过的女孩。“瞿纪美(Qu Jimei, 音译)！你去哪儿了？”
一个把头发染成一缕一缕红色的女孩答道：“我要回家。”
张倩倩吃了一惊，拉住那个女孩的手，过了一会儿，说：“嗯，再见啦。”
做一个外来打工者就要习惯周围不断有人离开。“在工厂里，你会碰到很多朋友，不久他们都回家了”，张倩倩说。
她继续沿著街道走。商店之间的夹道里丢满了垃圾。小巷的尽头是农地。田野的蔬菜青翠茂盛，一些年纪较大的人正在刺眼的日光下劳动。
女孩们回家后，父母觉得她们已经工作得很辛苦，让她们休息，不用干农活。女孩们还保留著农家早睡早起的习惯，但大部分的时间都花在看电视上。在农村，时间就这样无边无际地流逝。
而在裕元，时间则是严格地分配好的。一条生产线有470个工人；一只运动鞋大概要经过200个岗位。裁剪部的工人把网布剪成片；缝合工在这些布片上缝上标志和鞋带孔，做成鞋帮；材料装配工把橡胶层和塑胶层粘在一起做成鞋底；合成工把鞋底和鞋帮压在一起，插进塑胶脚模型（称为“鞋楦”），然后把两部分用胶水粘在一起。机器给每只鞋加88镑的压力。接下来，工人把鞋楦拿掉，看看有没有瑕疵，然后装盒。每只鞋的鞋舌处都印有“中国制造”的标签。裕元有173条生产线，工厂遍布中国，每条生产线每天生产2000双帆布胶底鞋。
在经营的头十年，裕元经常让工人工作到半夜，很少休息日。但90年代末，一些客户，像耐克公司和阿迪达斯-萨拉姆公司( Adidas Salomon AG)，促使供应商改善工人的条件。裕元把工作时间改为11小时工作日，周日给员工放假，还成立咨询中心，负责处理问题和投诉。它还改善了安全设施，废除了军队式的体操训练和制服制度。
敦促工厂改善条件的西方公司还要求降低价钱。2001年，阿迪达斯在裕元启动一个提高效率的方案。工人们说工作时间缩短了，但更加辛苦，因为任务都精确地分配下来，几乎没有停工的时候。现在这些客户要求工厂30天交货，三年前是60天，十年前是90天。订单数目越来越小，这样当时尚发生变化时设计师能更快地做出反应。
每个工作岗位前面都有一块塑胶牌，上面注明工人要多少秒钟完成任务。管理员用码表来计算工人的时间。裕元的生产力过去三年来提高了10%。阿迪达斯对这个方案的效果进行了调查，发现工人开始时感觉压力增大，但时间长了就适应了。
8月是种秋季蔬菜的时候。裕元也在此时开始一个新的季节：为圣诞节作准备。在度过一个轻松的夏天后，工人们每个工作日都要加班，周六要工作一整天。
那个月的一个周日早晨，张倩倩呻吟著说：“我的头疼得厉害”。“按理说是淡季，可是我们有这么多订单”。前一天是她22岁生日，本来打算和一个朋友庆祝一下，没想到要上班。
在805室的房间里头，贾季梅刚从家里回来。她无精打采的，没有笑容。“我本来不想回来”，她说。“但在家里没事干。”
她在工厂的生活要被重新调整。裕元每年都安排工人到新的宿舍，以保证同一生产小组的人住在一起。“我已经在这儿认识了朋友”，贾季梅说，“现在我们可能又要分散各处了。”
人员在那个月底调动。原来每天呆在一起的女孩们现在不知道怎样找到原来的伙伴了。许多人再也联系不上。她们每天都加班，同时不断有新的工人加入。
8月份发工资后，张倩倩突然离开了厂。她的舍友不知道她到哪儿去了。厂方说她还是登记的工人。她的突然失踪好像是对严格的工作安排的嘲讽，而正是这些计划把裕元的生活安排得如此井井有条。
在两边开满大排挡的泥路上，正对著工厂入口有一个红瓷砖墙面的公寓区，公寓的门都用金属板。
10月中旬的一个周日下午，张倩倩出现在这里。她拜访一个叫葛丽(Ge Li)的安徽老乡，她以前也在裕元工作过，和男友同住一间单身公寓。“没什么意思了”，张倩倩解释她离开的原因时说。她说在考虑回家，或者在另一家工厂找工作。
在随后的几个星期，工厂里的生产压力越来越大。在农村正是立冬（冬天的开端），是修栅栏的时候了。张倩倩继续漂泊，她的朋友说不知道她打算干什么。
在张倩倩以前的宿舍，一个叫赵娟(Zhao Juan, 音译)的室友仿佛对朋友的离开无动于衷。她19岁，在裕元工作了两年。她曾经辞职回家，但最近又回来了。“很多人走了”，她说。“但他们最终都会回到裕元。”
