A young Chinese woman’s social media plea for help with a traditional pig slaughter unexpectedly ignited a nationwide response, drawing thousands of strangers to her remote village and creating a massive cultural event over the past weekend. Daidai, a woman in her 20s from Qingfu village in Chongqing’s Hechuan district, posted a video on Douyin (China’s TikTok) last Friday expressing concern that her elderly father could no longer manage the year-end ritual of slaughtering two pigs for the community’s Chinese New Year feast. She invited anyone willing to assist to join the “paozhutang” or pig slaughter feast, a longstanding rural tradition where neighbors gather to share labor and enjoy a hearty meal.
The video quickly went viral, amassing over a million likes and half a million engagements within days. By Saturday, the quiet village was inundated with visitors, as thousands of cars descended on Qingfu, causing traffic jams that stretched for kilometers and brought local roads to a standstill. Drone footage showed long queues of vehicles winding through rice fields, with some people walking from distant parking spots to reach the site. Visitors hailed from across China, with license plates from various provinces, and many drove hundreds of kilometers, drawn by the promise of community and nostalgia.
The scale of the response far exceeded expectations; Daidai had anticipated only a dozen helpers, but instead, over 3,000 people participated in the event over two days. The original two pigs were insufficient, so neighbors and the local cultural and tourism department donated three more, resulting in five pigs being slaughtered to feed the rotating crowd. The feast was live-streamed online, attracting over 100,000 viewers and 20 million likes, turning it into a digital spectacle as well.
Local authorities swiftly adapted to the influx, deploying traffic police and urban management teams to maintain order. The Hechuan government embraced the phenomenon, providing free tickets to the historic Diaoyucheng Fortress and organizing a traditional molten iron fireworks display. This support transformed the impromptu gathering into a structured festival, with catering teams serving hundreds of kilograms of food, including over 500 kg of rice and 350 kg of oil, at an estimated cost exceeding 100,000 yuan ($14,000).
The event evoked deep cultural resonance, with participants describing it as a heartwarming return to traditional rural life. Many Chinese netizens expressed a yearning for such community interactions in an increasingly isolated modern society. Daidai noted that the atmosphere reminded her of childhood, and one visitor said it felt like a “big family,” highlighting the therapeutic value of the collective experience.
Daidai herself was overwhelmed by the turnout, sleeping only four hours over two days but expressing immense gratitude. Her Douyin follower count skyrocketed from a few hundred to over 2 million, making her an overnight sensation. Local officials are now considering proposals to establish an annual “Hechuan Pig Slaughter Festival” on January 11, aiming to institutionalize the grassroots enthusiasm and promote regional tourism.
This viral story underscores the powerful role of social media in amplifying local events into national phenomena. It reflects a broader desire in China for authentic cultural connections and community engagement, potentially inspiring similar initiatives. The success of Daidai’s plea demonstrates how digital platforms can bridge urban-rural divides and foster unexpected moments of unity, offering a positive narrative in contemporary Chinese society.
