The idea of “lying flat” has become one of the clearest expressions of exhaustion with modern life. It describes a decision to step away from competition, ambition, and the pressure to keep moving upward. But is it simply an act of avoidance, or can it also be understood as resistance?
Li Yingdi’s book The People Who Ran Away explores this question through the lives of people who moved to places such as Hegang and Hebi—cities that have become online symbols of a slower, cheaper, and less competitive way of life. The author spent time among them, trying to understand why they had abandoned their former lives and chosen to begin again somewhere unfamiliar.
“Lying flat” is only the visible result. The reasons behind it are far more varied. Some people have become disappointed with the lives they were expected to lead. Some want to stay away from crowds and avoid conversation. Others hope to escape their previous identities and start over in a place where no one knows them. There are also people who simply find their current lives dull and, after discovering Hegang’s remarkably cheap housing, decide that moving there might be worth trying.
Hegang had already become familiar to many people through social media. Once prosperous because of its mineral resources, it is now regarded as a resource-depleted city. Its reputation online rests largely on its extremely low housing prices: an apartment of roughly 40 to 60 square meters could reportedly be purchased for only 20,000 to 30,000 yuan. Despite the low cost, the city still offers the basic conveniences of urban life. For people who want to reduce their living expenses without completely leaving the city behind, Hegang appears to offer an unusually practical version of “lying flat.”
Because of its reputation, its low prices, and the descriptions in the book, Hegang initially seemed almost like a decaying, abandoned place. Yet videos and images of the city reveal something more ordinary—and sometimes more distinctive. It is not fundamentally different from other cities. Places such as Mine Park and Beiputuo Temple take on a particular atmosphere under heavy snow, combining a solemn sense of history with a stark, almost cinematic beauty. The city may have lost its former economic importance, but that does not mean it has lost all character.
The people described in the book support themselves in different ways. Some live off their savings. Some work as freelancers. Others take simple local jobs, work as waiters, open small shops selling fried food, or make a living through delivery orders. What they share is not a profession or social background, but a reluctance to discuss the lives they left behind.
They seem determined to break away from their former identities. One person describes Hegang in a particularly revealing way: “Here, my past cannot come looking for me.” The sentence captures what many of them are seeking. They are not merely looking for cheaper housing. They want distance—from old relationships, past failures, social expectations, and the version of themselves that other people have already learned to recognize.
Among them, Wang Li is especially memorable. Unlike many others who moved to Hegang, she appears sociable and energetic. She enjoys talking to people, often organizing gatherings in local online groups, inviting others to dinner, and arranging games of Murder Mystery. She has stickers on the living-room wall listing several wishes. One of them says, “Fill in the hole”—a phrase referring to herself. It seems to mean becoming fuller as a person, encountering more things, gaining more experiences, and making life less empty.
Wang Li does not fit the image of someone who has withdrawn from the world. She appears open, optimistic, and eager to connect. That is why what happened to her is so devastating. After no one was able to reach her for several months, she was found dead in her bedroom. She had died by charcoal burning.
The revelation is shocking precisely because she seemed so cheerful and engaged with life. It is unsettling to realize how easily a person who looks bright from the outside can be overwhelmed. Collapse does not always announce itself through obvious loneliness, silence, or despair. Sometimes it remains hidden behind conversations, invitations, and an apparent interest in other people.
Another person who left a strong impression is Shen Mu, who did not live in Hegang. He had once held what many would consider a respectable job, working in aircraft maintenance. When he was interviewed, he was renting a place in Yanjiao, Hebei. He could remain indoors for several months without going out or speaking to anyone, apart from two video calls with his father each month.
Shen Mu also had an extreme tendency to collect and preserve objects. He kept almost everything, including takeaway containers, eggshells, and chicken bones. Yet this side of him stood in striking contrast to the person he had apparently been before.
He had the sensibility of a familiar kind of young art lover. He was deeply passionate about cinema and had accumulated a film collection measured in dozens of terabytes, organizing his hard drives by genre and style. He had traveled to Europe, Thailand, and other countries. At one point, he bought a film camera because he wanted to make films and documentaries. His father later smashed the camera. His travels, his devotion to film and art, and the experiences that followed seem to contain the elements of a film themselves.
At some point, perhaps after suffering a serious emotional blow, Shen Mu became tired of dealing with people. He withdrew into his rented room and spent his days with movies. The outside world was gradually reduced to something he could keep at a distance, while films became his most reliable form of company.
It is impossible to know exactly how he arrived at his eventual decision, just as it is impossible to fully reconstruct the inner lives of the people who moved to Hegang. Still, their choices are not difficult to understand. During periods of exhaustion, depression, or emotional collapse, many people have probably imagined disappearing to a place where no one knows them—somewhere they could simply get by without having to explain themselves or meet anyone else’s expectations.
Imagining such a life is one thing. Actually leaving behind familiar work, relationships, and social identity requires another kind of courage. For that reason, the people who make this choice can inspire both sympathy and a reluctant respect. They may be running away, but they are also making a decision that most people only fantasize about.
At first glance, their lives seem to be defined by retreat. They are escaping something: an unsatisfying job, a failed relationship, a painful family history, an oppressive social environment, or simply the exhaustion of constantly having to prove themselves. But perhaps escape is not the only way to describe it.
It may also be a form of resistance—a refusal to continue living according to an established script, a rejection of social discipline, and an objection to the assumption that there is only one legitimate path through life.
The people who live in Hegang may have little in common in terms of occupation, income, or social position. What connects them may instead be an inner refusal to keep listening to the same monotonous and clamorous message: work harder, earn more, succeed, buy a home, buy a larger home, get married, have children, raise those children, and eventually grow old inside the same system.
Seen this way, “lying flat” is not necessarily a celebration of idleness. It can be an attempt to regain control over the scale of one’s life. Some people want less money, fewer possessions, and fewer social connections because those things have begun to feel like burdens rather than proof of achievement. Others are not searching for happiness so much as a place where they can stop performing the version of themselves that the world expects.
That choice may be fragile, lonely, and full of risks. It cannot automatically solve depression, trauma, or the deeper problems that drove someone away. Yet it reveals something important about the society people are trying to leave behind. When more and more people dream of disappearing from the standard track, the question may not only be why they want to escape. It may also be worth asking what has made ordinary life feel so difficult to remain inside.