在北京東南六環外的通州區，有一處名為馬駒橋的地方，被許多打工者口耳相傳地稱為「零工華爾街」。每天清晨，數以萬計的工人聚集於此，等待雇主挑選他們從事各類臨時性工作，從搬運、裝修，到快遞分揀，無所不包。這裡的工資多以日結形式支付，形成一套獨特的「日結江湖」。馬駒橋為何能成為北京最大的零工集散地？這背後蘊藏著城市化發展、產業轉型，以及底層勞動者求生本能交織而成的現實縮影。

馬駒橋之所以能迅速成形並壯大，首先與其地理位置密切相關。它位於通州與亦莊經濟技術開發區交界，鄰近京滬高速與六環主幹道，交通便利，便於企業與雇主迅速調配人力。其次，這裡的生活成本相對低廉，月租500至1000元不等，城中村與違章建築為大量外地務工者提供落腳之處。由於處於城市邊緣，執法相對寬鬆，非正規經濟活躍，這也給零工市場提供天然溫床。

更關鍵的是馬駒橋扮演著亦莊開發區的「勞動力蓄水池」角色。許多大型企業所需的倉儲物流人手，建設項目帶來的臨時工需求，都讓馬駒橋成為重要人力供應源。在企業普遍傾向「降低成本、減少用工風險」的背景下，「日結工」模式漸漸成為主流，需求持續高漲。

這個零工市場並非一朝形成。早在2000年代初，因拆遷補償等問題，馬駒橋就已聚集第一批流動人口。2010年後，北京陸續清退市中心的低端產業，大量批發市場與小作坊外移，把打工者推向郊區，也讓馬駒橋逐步發展成一個自發而成的用工生態圈：招工、等工、結算工資，流程井然有序，儼然形成地下勞務市場的縮影。

清晨四點，是馬駒橋「人市」最熱鬧的時刻。大批工人聚集在商業街、百尚商場門口等待雇主。一旦車輛停下，工人蜂擁而上，高喊「我能幹，選我吧！」成為每日常態。搬運工日薪約200至300元人民幣，快遞分揀工可得150至200元，若是夜班會加價。工地雜工則介於180至250元之間。對這些工人而言，當天接到工作意味著當天有飯吃，無需等待拖欠。然而，這種非正式工作模式也潛藏著極高的不穩定性與風險。一旦遇到黑中介或惡意雇主，工資遭克扣或乾脆被拖欠是常有的事。工人也常因缺乏保險保障，工作受傷後只能自認倒楣。冬季時，因建築業停工，大批工人只能被迫返鄉或轉行，生活頓失重心。

在馬駒橋打零工的人群中，以40至60歲的中年農民工為主，他們常因年齡偏大被正式用人單位拒絕。也有一些是為償還高利貸、賭債而來的負債者，把馬駒橋當成一個「避風港」與「賺快錢」的場所。此外，還有初來北京謀職的年輕人，在找到穩定工作前，暫時在此以工換食。這些零工群體，是城市繁榮背後不可或缺的一環，卻長期被社會與制度忽視。他們支撐著北京的建築、物流、快遞等基礎運作，卻無法享有城市戶籍、醫保、住房與教育等基本福利。其子女多成為留守兒童，社會支持網極為薄弱。

而隨著平台經濟興起，零工市場也正悄然改變。外送、快遞、司機等平台型就業崛起，吸引部分年輕人流入，但許多中高齡工人無法適應手機操作或無法通過審核，仍須依賴傳統「人市」找活。技能門檻與數位鴻溝，讓他們在新經濟體系中愈發邊緣。大陸政府對於馬駒橋這類灰色用工市場的態度也十分矛盾。一方面，通州區曾多次整治非法勞務中介，嘗試取締人力黑市；另一方面，面對龐大的人力需求與經濟現實，這些打工市場總是迅速「死灰復燃」。一些公益組織也嘗試進場，提供法律諮詢、午餐救助與臨時棲所，但治標不治本。

未來的馬駒橋可能面臨兩條路：一是如同「浙江村」、「皮村」一樣，被清拆或城市更新計畫納入，最終消失；另一是走向半正規化或完全納編，如興建合法的臨時工市場，導入基本社保與技能培訓。但不論結果如何，只要這座城市仍需要大量低成本勞動力，馬駒橋這樣的地方就不會完全消失。

正如一位工人所言：「北京需要高樓大廈，也需要我們這些人肉磚頭。」
他們的存在，是城市文明表象下最真實的注腳，也是現代化發展中無法忽視的階層呼聲。

Beijing Majuqiao: The Gig Workforce’s “Day-Wage Underground”

On the southeastern edge of Beijing, beyond the Sixth Ring Road in Tongzhou District, lies a place known among laborers as the "Wall Street of gig work" — Majuqiao. Every morning, tens of thousands of workers gather on the streets here, waiting to be picked up by employers for temporary jobs such as moving, renovation, and parcel sorting. Wages are paid daily in cash, forming a unique and gritty day-labor economy. How did Majuqiao become Beijing’s largest hub for gig workers? The answer lies in a complex interplay of urbanization, industrial shifts, and the survival strategies of society’s most vulnerable.

Majuqiao's emergence as a labor hotspot is closely tied to its geographic location. Situated at the junction between Tongzhou and the Yizhuang Economic Development Zone, it’s adjacent to key transportation arteries like the Jinghu Expressway and the Sixth Ring Road, making it highly accessible for employers. The low cost of living in the area—rents as low as 500 to 1,000 yuan per month—has made it a haven for low-income migrants. Informal housing, including urban villages and illegal structures, offers shelter to this transient population. Being on the urban fringe, enforcement here is more relaxed, creating a fertile ground for the informal economy to thrive.

More importantly, Majuqiao functions as a “labor reservoir” for neighboring industrial zones. Major enterprises like JD.com and BOE Technology in Yizhuang rely on a steady stream of temporary workers for logistics, warehousing, and assembly-line operations. The construction boom in Beijing’s outskirts fuels a constant demand for renovation crews and manual laborers. To cut costs and avoid the obligations of formal employment, many companies prefer hiring daily workers — reinforcing the day-pay model as the norm.

The Majuqiao labor market did not appear overnight. In the early 2000s, the area began attracting the first wave of migrants due to local relocation projects and resettlement. After 2010, as Beijing purged low-end industries from the city center, wholesale markets and workshops were pushed to the outskirts, bringing even more laborers into the area. Over time, Majuqiao evolved into a self-organized employment ecosystem: recruiting, waiting, and wage payment all follow a well-worn routine — resembling a subterranean labor market with its own rules and rituals.

Around 4 a.m., the labor market comes to life. Hundreds of workers converge at commercial streets and near the Baishang Mall, waiting for vans and trucks to arrive. As soon as an employer shows up, workers crowd the vehicle, shouting, “I can do it! Choose me!” The going rates vary:

• Movers earn about 200–300 yuan per day
• Parcel sorters, around 150–200 yuan (with night shifts paying 30 yuan extra)
• Construction helpers fetch 180–250 yuan daily

For these workers, getting picked means having food for the day — it’s a fragile, day-to-day grind.

Yet behind the energy lies extreme precarity. Wage theft is common — unscrupulous intermediaries or employers may withhold or underpay wages, with little recourse for workers. Injuries are a constant risk, and with no insurance or formal contracts, hurt workers are often left on their own. During the winter, when construction slows, many are forced to return to their hometowns or seek alternative short-term gigs.

The workforce in Majuqiao paints a sobering demographic picture. Most are middle-aged rural migrants aged 40 to 60, often turned away by formal employers due to age. Some are heavily indebted, fleeing loan sharks or gambling debts while hoping to earn quick cash. Others are young job seekers new to Beijing, using Majuqiao as a temporary landing point.

These gig workers are indispensable to the city's infrastructure, yet remain excluded from its welfare system. They receive no health insurance, housing subsidies, or formal labor protections. Most have left their children behind in rural hometowns, creating a generation of left-behind children with little parental support.

The rise of the platform economy has shifted part of the gig landscape. Food delivery and ride-hailing apps attract younger, tech-savvy workers. But for older laborers who struggle with smartphones or app interfaces, Majuqiao’s physical “human market” remains their only viable option. Digital illiteracy and a lack of vocational training have widened the divide.

The government’s stance on Majuqiao is ambivalent. In 2023, Tongzhou District conducted surprise inspections to crack down on illegal labor brokers. However, given the strong demand for cheap labor, these markets quickly resurfaced. Nonprofits and grassroots volunteers have stepped in with free lunches, legal aid, and temporary shelters, but such efforts only provide temporary relief.

Looking ahead, Majuqiao may follow one of two paths:

• It could be cleared out, like the once-thriving Zhejiang Village or Picun, as part of urban renewal efforts.
• Or it may be regularized, with the government building formal labor exchange centers, offering basic training, and linking workers with social insurance programs.

Still, as long as cities rely on low-cost labor, places like Majuqiao will remain in some form. As one worker put it:
“Beijing needs its skyscrapers, but it also needs us — the human bricks that build them.”

Their stories are not anomalies — they are the hidden footnotes of urban prosperity, a testament to the resilience and sacrifices behind China’s modernization.