After "Mo's Chicken Hotpot" suddenly went viral, the owner only wanted to take it easy as soon as possible

That small shop in Shunde shown in the footage carries no legendary filter, and the lighting is not especially dramatic either. It feels like a little flame warmed by the wind on a spring night in the South. Layer upon layer of people fill every seat; the air is thick with waiting, urging orders, table turnover, and the smoky breath of the wok. Even standing at the entrance makes you instinctively hold your breath. As someone highly sensitive to atmosphere, when I see scenes like this, my first thought is not “It’s great that it’s become so popular,” but that this shop has already been pushed by traffic to the edge of barely being able to breathe.

What pushed Mo’s Chicken Pot in Ganxian Village, Chencun Town, Shunde, onto the trending charts this time was a restaurant visit video by influencer Liu Yuxin. When reporters arrived on April 8, even though it was clearly still a weekday, getting a table was already nearly impossible. Mr. Mo, the owner, said they now serve close to 200 tables a day. More bluntly, he himself hopes the hype dies down soon, because lately he has only been able to sleep three or four hours a day. His whole body feels like a wound-up spring, and even breathing has become heavy.

Back to the game itself—if I were to put this into terms I’m familiar with, it feels a lot like a stunning screenshot that suddenly gets shared everywhere. At first, people are drawn in by the atmosphere, but once everyone wants to crowd into the same viewpoint, the scenery begins to distort. Mr. Mo’s daughter mentioned that the whole family’s routine has been completely thrown off. She herself is so busy that she cannot even find time to eat one proper meal in a day. Some customers have also complained about the long wait and the high prices. Once this kind of imbalance appears, popularity is no longer just a gift—it becomes a drain as well.

Late at night on April 6, after finishing a full day of work, Mr. Mo celebrated his 60th birthday by sharing cake with diners. But when asked the next day about his birthday wish, his answer was bitter and painfully real: “The sooner it closes down, the sooner I’ll be happy.” It sounds ironic, but in truth it feels more like someone swept into a storm by online traffic finally putting his body’s well-being ahead of making money. He has also said clearly that health matters more than earning money—if your body collapses, no amount of money means anything.

But beyond the footage itself, what is even more worth discussing is the common pattern behind this kind of “unexpected overnight fame.” Mr. Mo himself said that the shop uses only ordinary chicken and ordinary medicinal ingredients, with no mysterious secret recipe. The day before it went viral, the shop had only 10 tables of customers. After closing, he could go sing karaoke, and in the morning he could still take a walk. Now, let alone singing, even members of his family have already fallen ill from the intense workload during this period. That contrast is more glaring than any myth of viral fame.

If speaking from the perspective of an onlooker, my suggestion is actually very simple: if you really want to try it, avoid going during this most crowded wave. Do not force a small shop that originally relied on craftsmanship and regular customers into becoming a check-in attraction. The most common storyline in the short-video era is that a place is suddenly lit up in an instant, like the white glare of a summer afternoon—blinding, scorching, and arriving fast. But what truly lasts comes down to pace, manpower, and physical endurance. For ordinary diners, the queuing experience may not be worth it; for the owner’s family, if the hype cannot slow down, they may really not be able to hold on until the May Day holiday.