South China Morning Post economy desk reporter Ji Siqi recently flew home to mainland China from Hong Kong having not seen her family in her hometown of Shenyang in the northeastern province of Liaoning for over a year due to coronavirus restrictions. In a three-part diary, she will recount her 28-day mandatory hotel quarantine experience, which falls under the world’s longest virus prevention measures for overseas travellers – totalling 56 days. You can read the first part here and second part here. Day 21-28: Shanghai to Shenyang quarantine hotel Simply securing a flight ticket is no longer enough for me to get home. As a person coming from overseas within 28 days, I need to report to the community workers responsible for my neighbourhood in Shenyang about my impending return first. I felt terribly sorry about disturbing someone on Sunday, but I had no other choice. Ever since the pandemic began, some 4 million community workers haven’t really enjoyed their weekends, as the burden of carrying out China’s zero-Covid prevention measures at ground level have fallen on their shoulders. When I messaged the worker handling my case, she was organising mass testing in one of the neighbourhoods she was in charge of. As soon as I was released from the second quarantine hotel, I got on a taxi to the airport. I had arrived in the city in the cold of winter, and three weeks later when I was leaving, the taxi driver was wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt, while rapeseed flowers bloomed along the motorway. The check-in procedure at the airport for me took extra time as I was to return to quarantine when I arrived in Shenyang. And apparently, my information had been shared with staff at Shenyang airport, because when I landed, I was asked to remain on the plane until all the other passengers got off. I was then led by an airport worker in protective gear to a separate shuttle bus heading to the terminal. The whole bus was just for three passengers – including me – who were to be sent to quarantine centres rather than home. By that time, the outbreak in Shanghai was already worrying and multiple other cities had reported spillover cases from Shanghai. ‘I miss you’: two small boys show support for families on pandemic front line When other passengers on the plane arrived at the terminal, police read out a list of districts in Shanghai where confirmed cases had been reported, and demanded people who had been to those areas – covering most of the city – to register their contact details and address. Only a few people did it. After reporting to the airport police, I was led to a taxi designated for people en route to quarantine, and the driver was also wearing protective gear. Around 10 minutes later, I arrived at the last hotel – it looked more like a motel – of my journey. The condition of the hotel was much worse than the previous two, with the holes and ink marks on the bedsheets, but the price was much lower, and for a person who had already spent more than US$2,000 on the trip, I felt a bit of relief. The next morning, when I drew open the curtains, large flakes of snow were falling from the sky, coating the entire courtyard outside. That day, facing more than 1,000 infections each day, the neighbouring province of Jilin was effectively sealed off, with all interprovincial travel banned. Hong Kong study finds 40 per cent of patients still suffer from long Covid The virus, together with fear, quickly spread to my province of Liaoning. Shenyang airport was ordered to close three days after I had arrived due to a confirmed case. Then indoor dining was banned, and the whole city was ordered to go through rounds of mass testing. More and more cities across China were put into lockdown. My friends in Shanghai and Shenzhen started to find it difficult to buy groceries. Compared to them, my life in a quarantine hotel started to look like a privilege that isolated me from all the chaos outside, and as long as I paid, I didn’t need to worry about food. I had been chased by the outbreak for a month, but it didn’t catch me in the end. On the 28th day, my quarantine life finally ended, although when I stepped out of my room, I felt I was still stigmatised as the hotel staff stood far away from me and avoided any physical contact. When I handed over the room key, I was asked to put it in a cardboard box, and then it was sprayed with disinfectant spray for 30 seconds. According to the government policy, even though I was going home, my parents could not pick me up. I had to be sent home in a so-called closed loop, that is by government designated van, where I was isolated from the driver who was wearing protective gear by a partition. Man becomes ‘shared dad’ in pandemic helping families hit by serious disease But the moment I saw my parents waiting for me outside our home, I felt the 28 days had paid off. Compared with millions of people in many other Chinese cities who fell into numerous lockdowns, and who never knew when they would be free, or small businesses that never knew when they could reopen, I felt lucky. At least I knew as long as I endured the 28 days and paid the money, I would go home for sure. The biggest pain is always the uncertainty.