When Bai Guangqin stepped off the overcrowded train at 5:00 AM, he had barely covered one third of his trip home.

The rumbles of the wheels, snores, conversation and cries of children that had accompanied the 56-year-old Bai throughout the six-hour train ride still resounded in his ears as he stood numbly under the dim streetlight.

The cotton-padded jacket he bought for 30 yuan (US$3.6) at a free market in Shanghai did little to protect him from the cold, as the temperature had dropped to minus three degrees Celsius.

Bai's is among an unprecedented 1.97 billion record of trips by bus, train, air and ship during this year's Spring Festival passenger rush, a figure estimated by the Ministry of Communications.

Migrant workers like Bai make up the bulk, and probably the most disadvantaged group in the annual exodus from cities to home provinces to celebrate the Chinese lunar New Year, which falls on February 9.

Bai and his fellow villagers gathered their luggage together as they were waiting for a bus to Sixian County in east China's Anhui Province. One of them stepped away from the group to relieve himself at a corner. He was caught and punched in the chest by a man on patrol.

The crowd looked on in silence as the villager paid 10 yuan (US$1.2) in penalty but was given no receipt.

Bai was obviously distressed when his only piece of luggage was carelessly thrown into the bus that had pulled over to canvass passengers. His striped sack was stuffed with a bedroll and the best gifts he could afford for his family: a small pack of sunflower seeds and a handful of sesame candies made in Shanghai.

The bus was loaded with 99 people, though it only had 44 seats, and Bai had to crouch behind the driver. Whenever he saw a traffic policeman, the driver would cry out for everyone to curl up in order not to be seen.

Bai kept his head down when everyone else watched a kong fu film on the bus's DVD player. He was tired, sleepy and frustrated -- he was underpaid after three months of hard work.

"The boss promised 33 yuan (US$4) a day but paid only 30 yuan (US$3.6)," he told Xinhua reporters who offered to accompany him during the trip for a closer look of rural workers' life. "A good boss should at least keep his word."

Bai spent the past three months doing odd jobs on a construction site. He worked 10 hours a day and rarely took a day off. "A man of my age is unwelcome to most employers. I was often scolded for working slowly. The stress was sometimes unbearable," he said.

But Bai stayed on. "My home county has too many people but too little farmland. It's equally difficult to earn my bread at home."

The wedding of Bai's second son in 2003 left the family in heavy debts, and the father was the only one to pay. "I didn't really expect any one of my four kids to help me. I'd be happy as long as everyone else is content."

Still, the tolerant peasant couldn't help complaining that some youngsters had "no manners at all." The young conductor on the bus, for example, gave Bai many scornful looks and yelled at him without showing the least respect for a man probably about his own father's age.

A two-hour bus ride took the group to Sixian, where dozens of motor-driven tricycles -- called "Mazdas" by the locals -- were waiting for customers. A "Mazda" took Bai and his friends to the long-distance bus stop, where they took a minibus to a place five or six kilometers from home.

Before he boarded the "Mazda" that was to take him home, Bai took out a five-yuan bill to buy 20 steamed dumplings and devoured them all -- he had eaten nothing for 15 hours.

Bai smiled his first smile of the trip when the "Mazda" bumped along the dirt road of his home village, leaving behind frosted grain fields, poplars and fellow villagers that waved "hello" as they recognized him.

Bai only held to his striped sack when his companions got off the "Mazda" to buy sweets for the children at a roadside store where a huge pack of locally made crackers sell for two yuan (24 cents).

The door was locked when Bai finally got home. It was 10:00 AM. He put his bag down and went to look for his wife, Li Hengxia, 59, in the neighborhood.

Bai's house was poorly furnished even according to local standards. The cement floor was crumbling, exposing the bricks underneath. Spider webs hung on the old beams and an old fertilizer bag was cut into a curtain to separate the bedroom from the outer room. An obsolete black and white TV was the only luxury.

The couple rummaged for a photo of their youngest son, who was still at junior high school. "He's a good boy -- never forgetting his parents when he's got some tasty food," said the mother.

Bai took out a candy and shared it with his wife, licking up the smallest granules of the crisp bar that had broken into pieces during the 500-kilometer trip. On its wrapper was printed "made in Shanghai."

The house was filled with festivity. Bai clearly felt the tiring trip was worth it after all.

(Xinhua News Agency February 3, 2005)