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Xia Wuyi, 70, is on his neighborhood's "key assist list." The unwed, childless man in Shanghai has a meager pension and Alzheimer's Disease, so is almost certain to face difficulties in future eldercare.
But when community officials approached him with a "house-for-pension" policy that allows elders to deed their houses for extra retirement funds, they met an absolute denial.
"The house is my most precious asset and legacy, and after I die, I must give it to someone I know and trust," Xia said.
His heir-to-be is not a bank or insurance company, but a peddler who has taken care of him. Xia adopted her as daughter and promised to leave her the property if she sticks to her filial duty in his remaining years.
Xia is not alone in rejecting the house-for-pension scheme. In his block in Putuo District, several childless elders have also decided to bequeath their houses to community workers or police officers who have looked after them.
China has been pushing the reverse mortgage-style house-for-pension program to diversify its eldercare solutions for a quickly aging population. The four cities of Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou and Wuhan will start a pilot to allow insurers to access this field on July 1.
Yuan Xucheng, an official with the China Insurance Regulatory Commission, said the pilot is intended to expand funding channels and improve provisions for the elderly.
Though totally voluntary, the scheme has invited criticism that the government is trying to shift the burden to individuals. It has also left a bad taste in a society where houses play a central role in family affairs.
Many Chinese regard the house as the basis of family, and are under pressure to buy one before getting married. When they die, the house becomes a precious legacy, and trading it away risks driving a wedge in parent-children relations.
"The house is generally believed to be the dearest gift to offspring; and many elders prefer to spend the rest of their life in their own home," said Wen Jun, a sociologist at East China Normal University.
Even childless seniors may not favor such choices. Some, like Xia, would rather use the house to secure a care-taker, while others see disgrace in trading it away at all.
"The house is very important for Chinese, like the root of a family. Deeding my house will invite gossip and suspicion from others," said Sun Huifen, 57, in Shanghai.
Sun, who lost her only daughter years ago to cancer, urges the government to offer easier access to eldercare services and show greater care to elderly who have lost their only children.
Instead of applying for the program, her plan is to have the house sold after the couple's death to establish an education fund named after their daughter.
Why the backfire?
Analysts say the house-for-pension is only a niche product, mainly an option for childless urban seniors to improve their livelihood. Its introduction in China is seen as an effort to diversify the eldercare market.
However, controversy has raged since the State Council introduced the concept last year. Apart from the clash with family values, experts say the backfire also illustrates the widespread anxiety about China's eldercare sector.
"It's a question of who should shoulder the responsibility. The public has long seen the government as the major provider of social security, but now the government hopes to bring in more market and social forces, which may be hard to accept for some," Wen said.
But the sociologist believes it is impossible for the government to shoulder the burden alone, especially as society faces a surging number of senior citizens but shrinking resources in eldercare.
By the end of 2013, the number of people aged above 60 in China stood at 202 million, or nearly 15 percent of the total population. The traditions of relying on children for old age care are now challenged by the one-child policy. As lonely children struggle to look after their parents, there are insufficient nursing homes and personnel to fill in the blanks.
No countryside for old man
In China's vast rural areas, available eldercare alternatives are even fewer, and the latest "house-for-pension" trial is unlikely to benefit villagers.
Yin Shoutang, 71, lives with his wife, his 91-year-old mother and a granddaughter in the suburb of Wuhan. With a monthly pension of 2,200 yuan, Yin has to moonlight as a carpenter to make ends meet.
He has considered deeding his 110-square-meter house, but the problem is "my house is worth 200,000 yuan (32,520 U.S. dollars) at most. We may spend all the loan and die homeless."
Unlike in the big cities where houses are often exorbitantly priced, village huts in China are of less value and can only be sold to rural residents, making them a less likely a bet for a happier retirement.
For Wang Caixi, a villager in Wuhan, there is no such a thing as an alternative in his retirement plan.
The 67-year-old gave up ownership of his house during a renovation and registered it under the name of his son. He is now fully supported by his son, a migrant worker in Yunnan.
"All I have is my son, nothing else," he said.
