As Liu told me about the impending demolition and the way her business swayed with the rhythms of the factory, we were reminded of a passage from a recent piece by New Yorker's Jiayang Fang about centralized efforts to transform the economy of a poverty-stricken coal region in northwestern China into a world-renowned wine industry.
While visiting a vineyard, Fang speaks to a farmworker who, when asked how her life was, repeated a peasant phrase common to the region, "kao tian chi fan — to rely on the sky for food." When one is farming, life is made good or bad by the rain; you have little control over it.
By the end of the piece, Fang likens this attitude to China's modern era, but the government has become the sky:
"The government's schemes, centrally planned and then implemented in province after province, can make fortunes, ruin lives, or leave social hierarchies much the same as they were before … The sky could ripen your vines or ruin your crops and there was nothing you could do about it. Here the government was no different: a distant power inscrutable to those on the ground."
Liu seemed to view Foxconn and the local government in this way as well. When I asked what she would do when the bulldozers came, she smiled as though we had asked about the weather.
"I guess we'll move somewhere else, set up our restaurant, and do the same thing," Liu said.
Other business owners in iPhone City had a similar "what can we do" shrug to Foxconn. Ma, a 25-year-old masseuse from Zhengzhou and a former factory worker, told Business Insider that all of the businesses nearby were losing money at the time. Everyone was just trying to hold on until the usual swell of workers in June.
"They can't afford the rent right now," she said.
The ones that can't hold out will close up shop, and some other hopeful will try their hand at the game.
And, if the fortunes of Foxconn or Apple turn — or the companies turn to automation, as looks to be increasingly the case — all that will be left to do is look to the sky.