The children went back to school less than a fortnight ago but summer in China officially ended in early August and next week sees the Mid-Autumn Festival. It is one of those holidays that annoys as many people as it pleases because everyone has to work on Saturday so they can have Monday and Tuesday off.
It is the loveliest season in Beijing, usually warm enough to eat outdoors but without the blistering heat of summer and with the air cooling sharply after the sun goes down at about 7pm. But the weather was unsettled until last weekend, with heavy rainstorms one day and scorching sunshine the next, leaving everyone out of sorts.
I had not seen Zhenbin for months before I got in touch with him a couple of weeks ago and asked him how he was.
“I’m not happy,” he said.
Donald Trump’s return adds urgency and uncertainty to third winter of full Russia-Ukraine war
Matt Gaetz perched on the tightrope between political glory and infamy
Vote on assisted dying Bill due to be a cliffhanger as Britain’s Labour opposition mounts
China may be better prepared for Trump this time
“There’s trouble at work. I can’t get along with people.”
Now in his early 50s, Zhenbin moved to Beijing from his hometown in Henan province, about 800km to the southwest, eight years ago. His son and daughter, both in their 20s, stayed there and his wife came to Beijing with him, although their relationship has eased into an easy state of mutual indifference.
“She never knows where I am and she doesn’t care,” he told me.
Zhenbin works in a big supermarket far from the centre of Beijing, where he started as a delivery driver before moving first to the checkout and later to the fruit and vegetable section. The customers are, he says, absolute monsters but he is a hard worker and shortly after we met last summer he was rewarded as one of the shop’s best workers with a four-day seaside holiday.
During his stay at Beidahe, the same resort used every summer by the Communist Party leadership, Zhenbin sent me regular reports of his beach activities, 5km runs and games of badminton and basketball. He sent pictures of the meals he ate, boasting about how simple and wholesome they were and telling me he had reduced his cigarette intake to one and a half packs a day.
Many Chinese workplaces, including those in the private sector, are organised in work units, an echo of an earlier era of communism. Staff in all kinds of businesses gather every morning for a pep talk, standing in formation as if they were in an inspection parade.
[ Beijing’s move to get more people married receives mixed reactionOpens in new window ]
The system can foster a spirit of camaraderie and Zhenbin would occasionally send me news of work outings and parties. Sometimes he would meet colleagues on his day off to go hiking in the mountains near Beijing.
A year ago, Zhenbin was promoted to team leader, a job that brought a salary increase but also meant that instead of one day off a week, he would now have just two free days a month. He had other misgivings.
“I’m actually only suitable for being a worker and not as a leader. It’s just that the manager thinks I’m good,” he said.
“I don’t know how to flatter people and I don’t understand human relationships. I’m too straightforward. But I’ll do my best.”
Now that he had so little time off, I saw little of Zhenbin after that but he kept in touch, sending me news of the latest special offers at the supermarket as we exchanged brief bulletins about how we were. Then he told me last month that the supermarket manager was moving him back on to the checkout.
[ Beijing eyes another angle to sci-fi and gaming success storiesOpens in new window ]
“I used to do that job but I trained and learned a lot since then. The salary is a lot less,” he said.
The problem was one particular colleague who drove Zhenbin round the bend “always chattering and acting like a lunatic”. After a while, Zhenbin stopped speaking to him and the colleague gave up trying to talk to him.
“It was the cold war,” Zhenbin said.
His refusal to talk to his workmate was affecting their performance and after a few peacemaking efforts, the manager decided that something had to be done. And he concluded that most of the fault lay with Zhenbin.
It might have been a humiliating fall from grace for a former star employee but Zhenbin accepted the manager’s decision as the right one. But I was not sure he would be so phlegmatic when his move to the checkout took effect at the start of last week, along with the pay cut.
The weather in Beijing began to settle down last weekend and the city slipped back into its proper groove for this time of year. With temperatures in the mid-20s and a light breeze freshening the air, everyone’s spirits perked up.
When I checked in with Zhenbin on Thursday he was at work on the checkout and I asked him how he was getting on. He told me he was happy to be back in a job without the responsibility of leadership and I asked if he was glad to be away from his former colleague.
“That feels pretty good too,” he said.