I advise everyone not to return to the rural countryside for retirement, as these 3 points will make it very difficult for you.

Pastoral songs, videos like those of Li Ziqi, are just for watching. If you really try to live like that, only those who do will know.
A few years ago, when I just retired, I got carried away and thought about returning to my roots. The pigeons in the city felt stifled in their cages. Going back home, the air is sweet, the water is clear, and I can plant some pesticide-free vegetables in the yard. What I imagined was "picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence," but reality slapped me in the face directly—it was "drawing my sword and looking around in confusion."
I'll be straightforward. Especially for retirees with a bit of spare cash who are used to living in the city, never settle down in the countryside for the long term. I'm not trying to speak ill of rural areas, but I'm just laying out the hard lessons learned over the past year or so, which boil down to three points—each one hits hard and is very difficult to endure.
First, that feeling of despair of being "cut off from the world" is not tranquility, but isolation.
In the city, you complain about the noise and the many cars. When you return to the village, it’s truly quiet, so quiet that it makes you uneasy.
Don't believe in what they say about village roads being paved with cement; the road may be open, but where are the cars? When you go out in the city, the subway, bus, or at the very least, a wave of your hand or a tap on your phone, and a car comes. In the village? Without a car, it's like having a broken leg.
Even if you can drive, as you get older, your eyesight deteriorates and your reactions slow down. Do you dare to drive the winding mountain roads every day? Especially at night, with no light and shadows of trees on both sides, that kind of psychological pressure might be something even young people struggle to handle.

Delivery? There's no home delivery here. You need to go to town to pick it up, and just a round trip takes half a day. In the city before, going downstairs to buy a bottle of soy sauce took only five minutes, but here, you have to plan your supplies for several days. The loss of that kind of convenience initially feels like a "return to simplicity," but over time, it results in a drastic decline in quality of life. Humans are social animals, and this physical barrier will ultimately lead to a sense of desolation in the heart.
Second, when your life hangs by a thread, you cannot run faster than death.
This point is the most realistic and also the most cruel.
If you are in great health and don't even have a cold, that's one thing. However, if you have any underlying conditions, such as high blood pressure, heart problems, or cerebrovascular issues, going back to the countryside is like gambling with your life.
Village health clinic? Then they can only check your blood pressure and give you some anti-inflammatory medicine. For serious illnesses, you still have to go to a county or city-level tertiary hospital.
Speaking of where I live, it takes 40 minutes to drive to the nearest decent hospital, and that's only if there's no traffic and the road conditions are good. For diseases like myocardial infarction and cerebral infarction, the golden rescue time is very limited. Those dozens of minutes in the city can mean just a few streets, but in the countryside, it's a matter of life and death.

If you're feeling unwell in the middle of the night, neither the heavens nor the earth will respond. That kind of fear can wake you from your last bit of "pastoral dream." Only then will you understand that the noisy sound of ambulances in the city is actually the most comforting sense of security.
Third, human feelings are fiercer than tigers, and debts are harder to repay than money.
Many city dwellers feel that rural people are simple and honest. Yes, when there are no interests involved, everyone seems quite happy.
But if you go back to retirement, you are an "outlier."
Rural areas are communities of acquaintances, where there is no privacy. What you ate today is known by the whole village tomorrow. How much your pension is and what your children do are daily lessons at the village information center.

The most exhausting thing is the social interactions. In the city, everyone shuts their doors and lives their lives; you might not even know your neighbor after living across from them for ten years. But in the countryside, it's different. Whenever someone has a wedding, a funeral, a full moon celebration, or even when they are raising the roof of a new house, you have to go and give gifts.
Aren't you going? Then you are "looking down on people" and "forgetting your roots." This spittle can drown you.
The key is, you are a retired old man or woman, and you are not hosting a banquet. The money spent is like water poured out, and there is no sound to be heard.
Moreover, there is a subtle psychology called "envying those who have, mocking those who don't." If you live too comfortably and don't want to get involved in the village gossip, people think you're pretending; if you want to fit in, you have to endure the endless comparisons and rumors. That complex web of interpersonal relationships is even more exhausting than the power struggles in city workplaces because there's no escape; you live right in the center of the web.
That feeling of being treated like a "walking wallet" or "displayed capital" really makes people uncomfortable.
Written at the end
When people get older, what are they seeking? Isn't it just for stability, convenience, and to be closer to medical resources?
The kind of life of "picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence" belongs to young people who are wealthy, have leisure time, and are physically strong, or to those who are on a casual vacation.
For those of us who really want to retire, let me give you a piece of advice: stay in the city, keep close to the hospital, stay near the convenience store, and be with your old neighbors. If you really miss the earthy smell, just go to a farm stay for a couple of days to satisfy your cravings.
Never block your way back, diving headfirst into that "hometown" that no longer exists in your memory. That's a place you can't return to.