After the lunchtime rush, it's time for the food delivery drivers to eat.

Liu Lijie, halfway through a 13-hour workday, parks his electric scooter in front of a restaurant in Beijing for his go-to choice — lamb noodle soup with a side of pickles, for 12 yuan ($1.65), a discount of 6 yuan off the regular price.

The reduced-price meal is part of a movement that offers free or discounted meals to people in need, no questions asked.

Known as aixincan, or loving meals, they are available at some restaurants in major cities, home to large populations of migrant workers who come looking for jobs.

"There is a lot of pressure in life since I came to Beijing to work, so eating aixincan is both economical and practical," says 40-year-old Liu, who arrived two years ago from Shanxi province.

Eager to get back to earning money, he digs into his meal at a branch of the Yushiji restaurant chain without even removing his helmet, branded with the name of the popular Ele.me food delivery app.

The movement, also known as suixincan, or follow-the-heart meals, can be traced back to the early 2000s, and has gone viral on social media.

Luo Shuai, a driver for the delivery service Meituan, learned of Yushiji's discounted meal initiative through colleagues and has since become a daily customer at the Beijing chain, which serves food from his native Henan province.

"It reminds me of my hometown," says 27-year-old Luo, who moved to Beijing the end of last year.

Among the country's nearly 300 million migrant workers, an increasing preference for gig-based work such as delivery driving over factory work has emerged in recent years. There are now more than 200 million gig-economy workers, according to government data.

For a full-time driver, the average monthly pay at Meituan can reach more than $1,500.

But only 11 percent of the app's drivers work full time. Part-timers in the biggest cities, such as Beijing and Shanghai, averaged closer to $1,000 a month in 2024.

The existence of discounted meals reflects a shift in China's urban landscape, according to Xiang Biao, head of the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology in Germany.

Previously, migrant workers could carve out their own spaces by helping each other, he says, but those networks have disappeared with the erosion of informal restaurants in cities for hygiene and safety reasons.

Feng Yong, the 43-year-old manager of Mending Roubing (doornail meat pie) — named due to its food resembling the round wooden nail covers on classical Chinese doors — spends much of his day kneading, filling, and wrapping pies at the Muslim Chinese restaurant in Beijing.

He says the restaurant began serving aixincan to help people in need and inspire others to do the same. A Shandong province native who moved to Beijing more than 20 years ago, Feng says he has a deep understanding of being an outsider struggling in a new city.

The key, he says, is to avoid any embarrassment for customers who are in need. Some hesitate at the entrance. The staff do what they can to help and don't inquire about a potential customer's circumstances.

"We don't refuse them anything, just as long as they're full," Feng says.