If this financial crisis lasts as long as the Great Depression of 1929, I'll be 32 when it all draws to an end. Should this nightmare come true, the shockwaves of overseas mass layoffs will hit me hard.

Department stores, hotels, restaurants, clubs and beauty parlors will be the first to fall quiet, as extravagant spending is always the first to be culled during hard times.

The usually crowded subway will become more comfortable with fewer passengers, but it will become a colder rider because almost no one will be aboard. Even the most congested roads will be empty.

One after another, companies will declare bankruptcy; young graduates will find it a mission impossible to find work; newlyweds will never think about a honeymoon abroad, they will stop dreaming of having a baby; people who were once busy bees will suddenly find themselves loafing around with plenty of time and no money.

If my small art studio fails to sell anything, I'll have to shut the gate and go into hibernation, which could well last forever.

If I didn't need to work, then we'd sell our Honda Accord and replace it with an AutoArt or a QQ.

If we can't make more money, we'll have to save the 1,000 yuan spent on our car every month.

My husband, Mr Zhang, is lucky to work in a SOE (State-owned enterprise). Presumably no one at this place will be laid off in this cold financial winter. We'd rely on his meager wage to pull ourselves through these gloomy days.

Most people will sell valuables to make ends meet. But the high-cost fancy items that were once in demand will hardly attract any buyers any more.

I'll probably fight with my husband over selling our Tiffany wedding rings, which we brought back from the United States. But because the rings are engraved with our names, Tiffany would have very good reason to reject us and no one else would be interested.

As the big fashion names collapse, those who have never enjoyed LV, Cartier, Chanel, El or Dior before the crisis might never have the chance again.

Even real estate that used to be the most reliable form of investment will be worthless. Our mortgage is about the same amount as my husband's monthly salary, but if we try to sell our apartment, bought after we were married, we won't find a buyer. As my husband drives the QQ or takes the bus to work, I'll be staying home, doing nothing.

In such a recession, I can't make any money by "frying" stocks, funds or gold.

Nor could I earn anything by knitting gloves or sweaters, as such things would be all over the streets and sold lower than the cost price.

The only meaningful thing for me to do would be to visit the markets and compare the prices, finding the most cost-effective solutions for our dinners.

Or maybe I should join volunteer groups in the community and meet neighbors who also have plenty of time but are short of money.

Chatting, after all, will not cost me a fen.

My parents-in-law live in the countryside with a patch of land and a fishing pond. Maybe they could come to Beijing to live with us. The four of us living together could save some more costs than if we lived separately.

Should Mr Zhang lose his job, then we'd have to run south to my parent's home.

At least we could save the 4,000 yuan needed for the heating during winter.

My parents are pensioners and they don't have the burden of a mortgage. Obviously they know better than us about saving.

Although we'd have to put up with the elder generation's preaching, it would be hard for us to leave.

Home, a warm home, would be the last stronghold for a freezing winter.

Our big family - Mr Zhang and me, my parents, and our cat - would spend most of the time in the countryside and have few chances to meet friends in the city.

The reigning theme of rural life would be: saving money.

The few wise people would enter universities and pursue MBA and other degrees - the costs of knowledge would be lower. But most people will eventually crumble under the pressure of life, deprived of all hope, before things take a turn for the better.

If this happens, history would remember this financial crisis that began in 2008 and lasted four years, until I turned 32.

The story first appeared in Sanlian Weekly

(China Daily 01/13/2009 page20)