Factories shutting down, bosses sleeping under bridges — unemployment is flooding China’s streets!

Under the bridges of Guangzhou, the shadows are filled with food delivery riders, migrant workers, and the homeless. Witnessing this scene grips my heart with sorrow. Crushed by the weight of life, these bridge holes have become their last refuge. The pain is hard to describe. In this city, countless people now call the underside of bridges their home. Many former factory bosses are now sleeping in their cars or under bridges after going bankrupt. Once proud owners who employed hundreds now struggle to afford a meal. Some work heavily to keep their businesses afloat during the downturn, but ended up losing everything. Their factories are locked, machines covered in dust, and debts piling up. With no source of income, even feeding their children has become a daily challenge. This is the brutal reality behind China's collapsing manufacturing sector. Countless workers have been laid off without notice, and worse, without getting paid. Some haven't received their wages for months but still have rent, food, and children's school fees to pay. Desperation is spreading. Many now rely on borrowing from friends or taking out high interest loans just to survive. The streets are full of exhausted, anxious faces. People who worked hard but were abandoned when companies shut down. There's no safety net, only growing despair. China's unemployment crisis is spiraling. Millions of fresh college graduates are not dreaming of success. They're struggling to survive. The U.S.-China tariff war has erupted, and the CCP's tough stance on America is backfiring. As unemployment skyrockets, the pressure is cracking the very core of Chinese society. Right now, even in first-tier cities like Shanghai and Guangzhou, the economy is crumbling. Countless delivery riders and laborers can no longer afford rent. They are left with no choice but to sleep under bridges and on cold sidewalks. The scene is bleak and heartbreaking. Let's dive deeper into this growing crisis. This is Guangzhou. This is a bridge hole in Guangzhou. It's not a scenic spot. It's not a nature trail. It's a hidden wall to delivery riders and laborers who've been pushed to the edge. Here, they don't need to pay rent, water, and electricity bills. They're surviving on the bare minimum. Feeding a family under these conditions is brutal. In Haizhou district alone, hundreds of thousands face unemployment daily. Every single day, more people lose their jobs. More are forced to sleep under bridges. This is Guangzhou, a so-called first-tier city. Yet here, the bridge holes are full. Who will listen to their silent cries? Who can truly feel their despair? Do you remember this homeless brother living under the bridge? It turns out he's not an ordinary man. Man 1. I came from Chongqing and have lived here for over two years. Man 2. Brother, where is your family? Man 1. I don't have a family. I'm single. Man 2. How do you make a living? Man 1. I collect and sell waste. I never take anything from others. Don't doubt me. If I see trash on the road, I throw it in the bin. One time, I found a wallet at the bus stop and waited for hours until the owner came to get it. It doesn't matter whether a person has money or not. What matters is having morals. China's economy is sliding, and Guangzhou is no exception. Finding a job has become painfully hard. This is no longer the vibrant Guangzhou of a few years ago. Unemployment is everywhere. My friends, the job market and economy in Guangzhou are truly collapsing. I'm a local born in the countryside, and I've seen too many people go from ambitious and full of life to completely lost. Take Tiuxi Road, for example. It used to be packed with people. Now it's like a ghost town. Rows of shops are closed, all with for rent signs. It used to be hard to find a shop to rent. Now no one even cares. Small businesses are dying one by one, and even big companies are on edge. Layoffs and salary cuts are everywhere. More and more people are out of work. Everyone's rushing into food delivery, ride hailing, courier work. But there are too many people chasing too few jobs. The competition is insane. For ordinary folks, getting a job now feels impossible. Wages are insultingly low. Prices keep rising. You can't leave the supermarket without spending 200 yuan. Vegetables cost more than meat. Families are barely hanging on, scraping by with tiny paychecks. Everyone has to work just to survive. I'm 36, jobless. I worked in a factory for three years and got laid off in just five minutes. You tell me, what kind of life experience is that? Hi, everyone. I'm Xiao Yang from Guangzhou. Today should have been a relaxing Sunday, but I got a message from my boss due to policies and other factors. We're suddenly going on an indefinite break. I was shocked. Imagine being told you'll only get the base salary. Would you accept that? I chose to resign. My rental contract isn't up, and I can't get back the deposit. Now I'm desperate to find a job within five kilometers. Being jobless is miserable. I talked to friends. Many are also unemployed, stuck at home, totally confused. I have no degree, no connections, no special skills. I've started to panic, but all I can do is face reality. Life isn't smooth sailing. I'll keep hunting for jobs and fight through the setbacks. I still believe in tomorrow. Let's stay strong together. Today I have another interview. I've been unemployed over a month now in Guangzhou. Still no job. I honestly don't know why. It feels like I'm lost. I've been applying for clerks, assistants, just anything. Today's interview was for a warehouse clerk. The job seemed easy, handling warehouse entries and exits, some planning. It's only two kilometers from home, so I biked there. It's a small factory. The HR explained the duties. Someone will train me because the last person hasn't left yet. She said she's been here seven years, and the one leaving had been here five. That person had to quit for health reasons. They want someone long term and reliable. Later, I met the boss. He said I qualified, but asked if I could move heavy stuff. From my appearance, he doubted I could. He also asked why a northern girl came all the way to Guangzhou. He thought I wouldn't stay long. I'm not sure what to do anymore. On the way back, I spent 9.9 yuan on a burger and chicken roll. I'm seriously considering going home. At 36, I'm completely unemployed. Today is my 11th day without a job. Losing your job at 36 brings real anxiety. But maybe this is just part of life. Age 36 feels like a wall in the job market. I didn't lose my job because of age, but some employers prefer hiring Gen Z. Post 2000s are already working, and companies want them. Not post 80s like me. I browsed job platforms, updated my resume. But I'm only applying to factories within 5km. Some say I'm being too picky. A job is a job, they say. But my lease ends next year, and I can't move yet. After dinner today, I went shopping downstairs from my house. You can see that no one is in sight in the mall, and there are more stores than customers. I went to a suit shop and the boss told me that there has been no one in the mall recently, and the business is getting worse day by day. Then I asked him why they were still selling at such high prices. The boss said he has to get the most from any customer who comes in, otherwise he couldn't even pay the rent. The rent fee is so high. So I would like to ask where have all the people gone in our city of Zhengzhou, with a population of 13 million? The ghostly stillness of urban China. In the spring of 2025, as China prepares for the May holiday, a chilling stillness has descended upon its major cities, transforming vibrant urban centers into eerie, ghost-like landscapes that evoke scenes from dystopian fiction. Guangzhou, a southern economic powerhouse with an official population of 13 million, stands as a stark emblem of this unsettling transformation. One evening, after a modest dinner, a visit to a nearby shopping mall reveals a haunting tableau. Not a single customer in sight, with rows of brightly lit stores vastly outnumbering any visitors, their displays frozen in a futile bid for attention. A suit shop owner, his face etched with exhaustion and despair, shares the grim reality of his predicament. No one's come in for days, he says, his voice heavy with resignation. Business is getting worse every week, and I'm barely holding on. When pressed on why prices remain stubbornly high despite the lack of demand, he explains, I have to charge as much as I can from anyone who walks in. The rent is astronomical, and I'm drowning in bills. Soaring rental costs, a lingering artifact of China's real estate bubble, have become an insurmountable burden for small businesses, while customers have seemingly vanished into thin air, leaving behind only echoes of a once-thriving economy. The question reverberates through Guangzhou's deserted streets, cutting through the humid southern air. Where have its 13 million residents gone? Second Road, once a bustling artery of commerce, nightlife and cultural exchange, is now a shadow of its former self, with only a handful of individuals waiting for taxis under the dim, flickering glow of streetlights, their silhouettes stark against the neon backdrop. Subway stations, typically packed with commuters navigating the chaos of rush hours, stand silent at 9.55pm, their platforms echoing with the absence of footsteps, the hum of escalators, the only sound piercing the stillness. Those who know Guangzhou recall its storied reputation as a dynamic hub, home to sprawling wholesale markets that supplied goods to the world and glittering shopping centers that drew crowds from across China and beyond. Yet in 2025, vendors in these markets report a catastrophic drop in sales, with unsold goods piling up in warehouses, their shelves groaning under the weight of inventory that no one wants. This is a stark contrast to the city's prosperous past, when every transaction fueled economic growth and reinforced Guangzhou's status as a global trading powerhouse. This phenomenon is not confined to Guangzhou, nor is it an isolated anomaly. Across China, cities like Fuzhou, Xiamen, Shanghai, Beijing and Shenzhen are witnessing a similar exodus of visible populations, creating an eerie sense of abandonment that permeates both urban and rural landscapes. In Fuzhou, a coastal city of over 8 million, central thoroughfares like Jiangting Street are ghostly after 9pm, their neon signs flickering over empty sidewalks, casting long, lonely shadows on the pavement. The silence is palpable, broken only by the occasional hum of a passing vehicle or the distant bark of a stray dog. Xiamen, a coastal gem renowned for its ambitious shopping complex in Fujian Province, resembles a post-apocalyptic scene straight out of a science fiction novel. The mall, once envisioned as a Venice of the East, with artificial canals weaving through its lower levels, now lies abandoned, its stagnant waters reeking of sewage and unused electric scooters, gathering dust in forgotten corners, their batteries long drained. In Dalian, the city's commercial heart has devolved into a wasteland of vacant lots and farmlands, with no trace of human activity, to break the monotonous expanse of barren fields A real estate development in Dalian, once priced at over $2,000 zero cents per square meter during the market's feverish peak, now languishes at $1,375 zero cents, with no buyers even at fire sale prices, as if the properties themselves have been forsaken by a population that no longer exists. These haunting images fuel a profound and troubling question that resonates across China and the world. Where are the 1.4 billion people that the Chinese Communist Party claims inhabit the nation? From first-tier metropolises like Shanghai, with its towering skyline, to obscure rural counties nestled in the mountains, an unsettling quiet prevails, challenging the official narrative of a stable, populous nation brimming with vitality. Residents and online commentators are increasingly vocal in their skepticism, taking to platforms like Weibo, Douyin, and overseas forums to share their observations and theories, often at great personal risk given China's stringent censorship laws. In Guangzhou, many estimate the actual population at 6-8 million, far below the reported 13 million, a figure that feels increasingly detached from the reality on the ground. Drivers note that rush-hour traffic, once a gridlocked nightmare that defined urban life, has thinned significantly, with roads now navigable, even at peak times, a phenomenon unheard of in the city's recent history. A local caterer, who runs a small restaurant in Guangzhou's commercial district, confides to a regular customer, This city may have lost two, three million people just this year. I used to serve hundreds of customers a day, packing the place from morning to night. Now, I'm lucky if I get a dozen, and most days, I'm just sitting here, waiting. Similar stories echo from other major cities, where once-thriving streets and malls stand empty and businesses shudder in droves, leaving behind only the skeletons of a once-vibrant economy that powered China's rise. This apparent depopulation is more than a surface anomaly. It signals deep economic, social, and possibly demographic fractures that threaten the very fabric of Chinese society. China's economy is grappling with a multifaceted crisis, characterized by skyrocketing unemployment rates, a collapsing real estate market that has left millions of families financially stranded, and a profound crisis of consumer confidence that has sapped the vitality from public spaces. Residents seem to be fleeing urban centers in search of better prospects elsewhere, perhaps smaller cities, rural hometowns, or even foreign countries, or retreating from public life entirely, cloistered in their homes or tight-knit communities out of fear, necessity, or despair. But what forces are driving this transformation? Is it solely the result of economic hardship, a natural response to a faltering economy, or do darker, more complex factors lurk beneath the surface, reshaping the nation's demographic landscape and challenging the very notion of China as a populous, thriving superpower? Recent data from Macrotrends indicates that Guangzhou's metropolitan population reached 14.59 million in 2024, reflecting a modest 2.14% increase from 2023. This suggests that outright population decline may not fully explain the emptiness observed in the city's streets, malls, and public transit hubs. Instead, shifts in behavior, such as reduced public activity due to economic fears, the widespread adoption of remote work or a cultural retreat from consumerism, may be contributing to the eerie silence that defines Guangzhou and other cities. This discrepancy between official figures and lived reality underscores the complexity of Chinese current predicament, setting the stage for a deeper investigation into the economic, demographic, societal, and health forces reshaping the nation in 2025. The emptiness is not just a physical phenomenon but a symptom of a nation grappling with existential questions about its identity, its future, and the very existence of its people. Look at what our society is like now. The streets are full of debtors. Nowadays, no one goes to restaurants, no one goes shopping in shopping malls, no one buys houses, no one gets married, no one has children, and no one believes what experts say. It seems that everyone has awakened overnight. Our current situation is as follows. Inside the house are angry minors who want someone not to live. The streets are packed with lifeless youths. The companies are full of middle-aged people who can't afford to live. People don't pursue anything optional, don't buy anything optional. Is this the ultimate outcome of the capital-fueled hype of the past few years? Or have people regained their rational consumption habits?