A Couple's Alley 'Cancer Kitchen' Lets Families Cook for Loved Ones in the Hospital

In an alleyway near the Jiangxi Cancer Hospital in Nanchang, China, there is a kitchen unlike any other. For more than 20 years, a couple named Wan Zuocheng and Hong Gengxiang have kept a row of simple cooking stations open to the families of cancer patients, so they can prepare home-cooked meals for loved ones receiving treatment nearby. The cost to use a stove is about three RMB — roughly 32 cents. As Good News Network reported, this modest "cancer kitchen" has become a quiet institution of comfort.

The kitchen began in 2003 and grew out of a simple belief that Wan states without ceremony: "No matter what life throws at you, you must eat good food." For a family keeping vigil beside a hospital bed, the chance to cook a familiar dish — the food a sick parent or child loves most — is far more than nutrition. It is a way to care, to feel useful, and to bring a piece of home into the sterile rhythm of treatment. Nearly 10,000 people now use the facility each year.

“For more than 20 years, a couple named Wan Zuocheng and Hong Gengxiang have kept a row of simple cooking stations open to the families of cancer patients, so they can prepare home-cooked meals for loved ones receiving treatment nearby.”

The community came to recognize the couple's quiet devotion. In 2019, the local government funded a renovation that expanded the kitchen to more than 20 cooking positions, and in 2020 Wan and Hong were named first among that year's "People Who Move China" award recipients. Yet for all the recognition, their commitment remains personal and unwavering. "I will help them as long as I am able to," Wan said — a promise measured not in grand gestures but in years of showing up, day after day.

The cancer kitchen is a reminder that community care does not always come from large institutions or sweeping programs. Sometimes it is two people who notice a need on their own street and decide to meet it, one shared stove at a time. In a place defined by illness and uncertainty, Wan and Hong have created something rare: a space where families can do the most human thing imaginable — cook a meal for someone they love — and, in doing so, find a little strength to carry on.