Shocking Collapse! New Chinese Tofu Buildings Crumbling After Only 2 Years!

In Zhangjiakou, residents of Rongsheng City community have been ordered to return, only to find countless cracks spreading through the underground garage. Promised 70 years of property rights, they've lived here for barely 10. Look at the wall beneath the 9th floor, it's crumbling. Everyone is terrified that the entire floor could fall at any moment. Who dares to live in such a place? The ground has already sunk. The walls are so heavy that even walking feels unsafe. The building was only completed last December. But when I went downstairs yesterday, fear ran through me. None of us know when this house might collapse. It could be tomorrow or even tonight. People spent everything they had to buy these homes. 7,000 Myanmar per square meter, 6,000, 5,000, some even 4,000. 100 square meters, plus renovation and a parking space, it cost over 1 million yuan, the life savings of three generations. Some still have mortgages to pay. Living here, how could anyone sleep peacefully? I went to the city to ask for help two months ago, but there's still no response. Last night, we formed a group and posted videos on TikTok, begging for attention. But no one from Rongsheng has reached out. No one gives us answers. The garage is splitting open. The walls are cracking apart. The ground is sinking. And parts of the building have shifted. It's horrifying. This was a brand new residential complex just a year ago. Now, tens of thousands of tons of weight pressed down on fractured pillars and unstable walls. It could collapse at any moment. The homeowners refuse to give up. But if it falls, the entire underground garage of Building 9 will go down with it. You can see it, pillar after pillar, nine in total. It's all sinking. The support columns are failing. The walls were patched with white filler, but the cracks returned. Same for the yellow wall below. The whole structure is deformed. God, please don't let it collapse again. Don't bury us alive. Look at the ninth floor. It's shifting, leaning. Who could live in this death trap? Beneath our feet, the ground is uneven, like walking over hidden pits. Every pillar is cracking. Every floor trembling. The entire building is moving. Someday soon, it might all come crashing down. Don't come near it. It's dangerous. I'm afraid the iron beams might fall at any moment. What will happen next? Yesterday, a few Hay Bay University students passed by and exposed the situation online. Now we've discovered even more problems. Districts A3 and A4 are both damaged. Cracks have appeared across the A4 walls, and a gaping hole has opened on the A3 road. The entire community is deteriorating before our eyes. Tiles in residents' homes have shattered. Rongxiang City's A5 district was handed over in 2023, promised 70 years of property rights. Yet after less than two years, it's already collapsing. Homeowners are in despair, and officials remain silent. Online, people say the sky has fallen. For families still paying mortgages, this isn't just a tofu-dreg project. It's a nightmare. How did such a disaster even pass inspection? Cracks between beams and pillars are severe, and the steel inside may already be bent and broken. People warn each other, don't film it. Don't buy the basement. Just run. Yet banks continue demanding loan payments. This isn't an isolated case. Shoddy tofu-dreg buildings are spreading across China. Construction quality has collapsed everywhere. Nearby Tianfu Road has also caved in. Oh my god, did it hit anyone? Nobody knows. Authorities have now forbidden residents from returning. As someone with over 10 years in engineering, I can say this, it's definitely a tofu-dreg project. Look at the foundation. The ground is paper-thin, barely holding two steel bars. The heavy rain on November 1st destroyed it completely. Residents said cracks had already appeared in early October, even before completion. Officials inspected it and declared it safe. Days later, it crumbled. Some residents revealed the property wasn't meant to last 70 years at all. Just 30. A day ago, people said 38 buildings in the Tanyang Taoyang community were being demolished. The walls here are like foam. Touch them, they crumble into sand. No gravel, no strength. After painting, they look fine. But inside, it's hollow and weak. The entire structure is fragile. Another tofu-dreg project born from greed. Honestly, fixing roads should be a good thing. But here, they just toss mud into the trenches, leave broken bricks, and let rainwater seep through. The quality is terrible. Who is still inspecting these projects? 70 years of ownership. Can these buildings even last seven? It's the third day since the collapse. At first, I didn't believe the rumors that the building was leaning. But when I came here, I was shocked. The tilt is real. You can see it compared to the streetlight. The ground is splitting open. The basement is flooded. One man said he poured all his savings, millions, into this home, only to watch it fall apart in a few years. Now, the community is sealed off. Power has been cut. Elevators stopped. People in high-rises use ropes to move their belongings. The red building next door is also leaning. And even nearby villas have been damaged. Buying a home in China isn't easy. As the saying goes, what others see as luxury is a family's lifetime of struggle. Yet in recent years, tofu-dreg projects under the Chinese Communist Party have become rampant. Analysts blame corruption. Developers and officials cutting corners for profit. Experts say corruption seeps into every stage, from inspection to approval, sacrificing quality and human safety. Across the country, thousands of ticking time bombs, buildings, bridges, and factories are waiting to collapse. Developers spend millions to create these disasters. Look, this wall can be dug through by hand. The ground floor has already sunk. Sewer pipes are leaking. And the soil is unstable. This is the reality of China's construction industry. The real estate profits don't go to ordinary people. They're swallowed by CCP elites and their developer allies. Across Shanghai, Shenzhen, Chengdu, Harbin, and Hainan, similar scenes repeat. Cracked walls. Sinking land. Collapsing homes. The entire nation now faces a terrifying question. How many more tofu-dreg buildings are waiting to fall next? The myth that Beijing's housing prices only rise and never fall has finally ended. Although official data shows only a slight decline, property owners in Beijing know the truth. The drop is massive. According to the latest report from Zhelonghui, the average transaction price of homes in Beijing in October 2025 was 42,500 yuan per square meter, a staggering 34.9% decrease compared to early 2022. Meanwhile, housing prices in the surrounding areas of Beijing have already been cut in half. Back then, countless Beijing residents and migrant workers flocked to Yanjiao, Dachang, and the Daxing International Airport area to buy homes, believing the value would only rise. Now they're trapped. Their properties have become bad assets that no one wants to buy. In Beijing, home prices are collapsing faster than anyone expected. Once, people fought desperately to own an apartment in the capital. A symbol of success. A promise of stability. A ticket to a better life. But that dream is crumbling. In just the past year, average housing prices in Beijing have fallen sharply, with second-hand homes in many districts dropping by more than 10%. Sellers slash prices again and again, yet buyers remain silent. Some owners have reduced their listings by half a million yuan and still cannot find a single interested buyer. Online, desperate homeowners cry out, I thought property would always go up. I never imagined it would trap me. These are not isolated stories. In Haidian, Chaoyang, Tongzhou, and even central Beijing, agents admit that transaction volumes have plunged. Many homeowners have already mortgaged themselves to the limit. Yet their properties are worth far less than their loans. Some whisper bitterly that owning a house in Beijing feels like holding a ticking time bomb. The golden years of Chinese real estate are gone. As one property commentator wrote, Beijing's housing market is no longer about making money. It's about minimizing loss. From the sky to the ground, the great retreat from high-rises. This collapse is not just in numbers. It's in people's hearts. A quiet movement has begun. People are fleeing high-rises and moving back down to the ground. Take 58-year-old Tian Zhen, once proud to own a modern apartment on the 34th floor in Shenzhen. Recently, he sold it and moved into a low-rise walk-up. His friends mocked him, saying, you're getting senile as you age. He only smiled bitterly and replied, don't laugh until you've lived through the suffering of a high-rise. For Tian, life above the clouds had become unbearable. When the elevator broke down for several days, he had to climb more than 30 floors on foot, missing work and losing his attendance bonus. On windy nights, he felt the whole building sway, a constant reminder that his modern dream home could turn into a trap in a single emergency. And he is not alone. In many Chinese cities, people who once craved higher floors for the view now want to be closer to the ground. Developers who built towers to touch the sky now face a cruel truth. The higher the floor, the harder it is to sell. The fall of the high-rise era. Over the past decade, high-rise towers mushroomed across China. Wuhan, Shanghai, Chongqing. Every skyline became a forest of concrete giants. Local governments loved them. They meant land sales, tax revenue, and the illusion of prosperity. But now these skyscrapers have become ghosts of a fading boom. Real estate agents say the change is dramatic. In one Wuhan district, 45% of new homebuyers now choose mid-level floors between the 6th and 11th floors. Upper floors? They barely attract a single inquiry. A veteran agent admitted, we don't even try to push high-rises anymore. Customers just shake their heads. He mentioned a case, a 32nd-floor apartment with full renovation, perfect location, yet it sat unsold for five months. Only after cutting the price by 200,000 yuan did it finally sell, at roughly 2014 price levels, down 60% from its peak. The glory of the high-rise has vanished. For many, these towers now symbolize regret, anxiety, and financial ruin. Why people are escaping the skies There are three main reasons behind the Great Retreat from high-rises. First, elevator dependence. In China's supertalls, everything depends on the elevator. When it breaks, residents are trapped. When power fails, even basic movement becomes a challenge. Some elderly residents say they've gone days without stepping outside because the elevator was under repair. Second, unstable water supply and hidden hygiene issues. Residents on higher floors rely on secondary water pumps. At peak hours, water trickles out slowly, and if the rooftop tanks aren't cleaned, contamination follows. One man living on the 37th floor said, Every night when I shower, the water flow is as weak as tears. He installed a purifier, but the filters clog every month, costing him extra. Third, safety fears. During fires, earthquakes, or other emergencies, escape becomes nearly impossible. In China, fire ladders can usually reach only up to the 18th floor. Beyond that, rescue depends entirely on luck. During storms, tall towers sway slightly. Technically safe, but psychologically suffocating. These problems don't appear in advertisements. They only reveal themselves when you live high enough to feel the fear of falling. The return to the ground. Meanwhile, life on lower floors feels almost peaceful. You don't need to wait for the elevator. Just open the door and step outside. You can leave quickly in an emergency. For families with elderly people or children, it's simply safer and more convenient. And it's cheaper, too. Low-rise apartments avoid the high-floor premium. For the same layout, buyers save hundreds of thousands of yuan and enjoy more usable space. A 100-square-meter high-rise unit might offer only 70 square meters of actual living area after deducting shared space, while a low-rise apartment of the same size gives a full 90 square meters. Shanghai's real estate meltdown, the collapse no one saw coming. Overnight, Shanghai's housing market has fallen into chaos. Landlords are flooding the market with listings. Second-hand homes have skyrocketed to over 360,000 units, a near-record high. Some sellers are so desperate that they're abandoning their down payments and years of mortgage payments just to escape. Even new homeowners are trying to resell before their keys are even handed over. But here's the real question. Who's still buying? Those who once bragged online about rising prices are now panicking, slashing prices, and begging for buyers. Some, drowning in debt, are selling at huge losses just to breathe again. In only three years, Shanghai's property prices have crashed like never before. Homes inside the inner ring are down 30%, those in the middle ring 40%, and those outside the outer ring have lost half their value. The market has turned as cold as the city's winter winds. Developers are throwing out desperate deals. 50% discounts, free parking spaces, cash back, even zero down payments. But still can't sell. Even luxury homes are no longer safe. When Fuyunjing, once a top-tier project, opened for sale, only 70% of units sold. The glory days of sold out in one minute are over. Now, experts warn that distribution cooperation, shared listings, and desperate partnerships will become the new norm. Just a few years ago, buying a home in Shanghai was every family's dream. Now it's a nightmare. With mass layoffs and a slowing economy, countless owners can't even sell their houses. Prices of secondhand homes have dropped nearly 50% in some areas. And analysts predict 80% of properties could fall even further. Each house once represented the savings of several generations. Now it's a ticking time bomb. Many families are on the brink of bankruptcy. As of yesterday, 11,292 secondhand homes were registered online. But real transactions are far fewer. New home sales fell to just 4,791 units, less than half of earlier monthly averages. Experts warn that Shanghai's housing market is entering its final surge before complete stagnation. A veteran agent with 17 years of experience puts it bluntly. Don't buy now. I've seen people lose 400,000 to 500,000 yuan overnight. He gestures to a quiet neighborhood once known for its charm. A 92-square-meter apartment that sold for 300,000 yuan now barely fetches 200,000. Prices are changing not by month or week, but by day. He sighs. It feels like the entire city is selling houses. Nine out of 10 people I meet are listing theirs. Nobody asks where you bought anymore. They ask if it's sold. More than 200,000 listings flood the market, with 100 new ones added daily. Even owners of brand new projects are rushing to sell before the market sinks further. But buyers? Almost none. Earlier this year, a small 59-square-meter apartment was listed for 1.2 million yuan. It could rent for about 3,500 yuan. Now, that same layout with better furnishings is going for 1 million flat. Unthinkable just a few years ago. Yet the rental market is collapsing too. Units stay empty for months. Landlords cut rents. And still, no takers. Shanghai, once the symbol of wealth, now echoes with silence and vacancy. And it's not just about cheap homes. Even luxury estates worth 100 million yuan have plunged to 40 million, losing 60% of their value. With widespread layoffs and shrinking paychecks, people can no longer afford their loans. Many are turning to auction platforms just to avoid default. Experts predict only 20% of properties will remain stable. The rest will keep falling. The real estate winter has only just begun. If prices fall another 30%, Shanghai could face a wave of bankruptcies, business closures, and social unrest. The chain reaction would ripple through every sector, from collapsing rural schools to reclaimed farmland and restricted housing construction. Across the country, self-proclaimed experts promise miracle solutions. But none can stop the downward spiral. Shanghai's property collapse is no longer just about money. It's a full-blown social crisis. People online are crying out. Good heavens! House prices are crashing. It's so tragic. One resident said their apartments, once sold for 15,000-16,000 yuan per square meter,