Shanghai is experiencing a severe economic slump — it’s shocking! Where Have 25 Million People Gone?

Where have the people of Shanghai gone? Have you noticed it too? The malls are empty, the streets are quiet, and entire neighborhoods feel hollowed out overnight. It's as if the city that once never slept has suddenly lost its crowd. Some say people have gone back to the countryside. Others say they've moved abroad to start over. But no one truly knows why Shanghai feels emptier by the day. Even the fireworks of city life can't hide the truth. This is Zhejiang Road Bridge. Once bustling, now eerily silent. Guangxi Road, almost deserted. Doors on both sides are sealed shut, and walking through feels like stepping into a ghost town. The century-old bund, once glowing with prosperity, now seems dimmed. What happened to Shanghai? Stores are closing one after another, becoming a major topic online. Famous business streets that used to overflow with life now look abandoned when night falls. The bleak scene has sparked heated discussions. More and more people feel they have no choice but to leave this city that once carried their dreams. One blogger said Shanghai was once the symbol of China's urban dream, a place where strivers saw hope. But today, consumption has downgraded. People are afraid to spend, white-collar workers are overwhelmed by workplace pressure, and economic uncertainty hangs over everyone like a shadow. On South Shanxi Road, businesses are barely surviving. We only made 100 yuan today, one shop owner said helplessly. Their chain once had 10 branches in the city. Now only one remains. Chengle Road is just as desolate, packed with shuttered storefronts. A blogger born in 1979 shared his story. Once the boss of a company, he is now unemployed and selling goods at a street stall just to survive. The mortgage crushes him every month. He warns outsiders not to stay in Shanghai unless they are prepared because he learned this painful lesson firsthand. When he couldn't pay rent, he turned to an old primary school friend for help, but couldn't borrow a single yuan. That year showed him the coldness and warmth of society all at once. In 2013, when WeChat businesses were booming, he made his first big fortune. By 2014, he had started a company with over 300 employees and lived a glamorous life. But in early 2020, the pandemic arrived and destroyed everything. After struggling for two years, his company still collapsed. Worse yet, her husband lost over 3 million yuan overnight in the stock market. By August 2022, their family had no choice but to leave Shanghai. She summarized two life lessons. When you make money, it doesn't always mean ability. Sometimes it's just timing. And when you earn money, don't spend blindly or you won't survive sudden risks. At least save enough to live for three months without income. Another blogger visited Qipu Road Market. During the National Day holiday, usually the busiest time of year, it was shockingly quiet. A few years ago, crowds here were overwhelming. Now the mall is empty, the streets cold, and entire stores sit unattended because there are no customers. In Old Town, the silence is even heavier. Walking through Menghua Street, the once vibrant walls, tiles, and alley shops now feel frozen in time, wrapped in shadows. Shanghai today is full of contradictions. Factories open, then close, then reopen again. It shows the complexity and uncertainty businesses face. Many companies are moving out of the city, others sharing office spaces just to reduce costs. Jobs with two days off a week that are almost impossible to find, even one day off is considered lucky. High salaries used to be common. Now earning 5,000, 6,000 Shui Shi Yuan makes you fortunate. Salary cuts, layoffs, and job scarcity are becoming everyday reality. Fresh graduates? Many are unemployed before they even begin. Some landlords and agents are complaining online. Houses can't be sold anymore, and prices are dropping sharply. One blogger shared, in 2020, I had money to buy a house. The listed price was 6.5 million Yuan. I offered 5 million. Shanghai, once glowing with opportunity, now stands at a crossroads. And the question remains, where have the people of Shanghai gone, and what is Shanghai becoming? It wasn't selling. Of course, I knew my offer was a bit low. The market price was somewhere between 5.5 and 5.8 million Yuan. After half a year, that 6.5 million Yuan listing dropped to 6 million. Another half year passed, and by the end of May 2022, the 6 million house had already fallen to 5.87 million. The decline didn't stop. Last year, it slid to 5 million, and this year, it plunged to 3.8 million, yet still no buyers. He believes prices will continue to drop. The money he once saved to buy a home, he ended up using it somewhere else. And now he's grateful he didn't buy when he had the chance. He never imagined that a market as big as Shanghai could become this empty. Let me show you what it looks like today, he said. From the entrance down is the underground city. Years ago, you couldn't even get down this staircase because it was packed with people. Now, it's cold, silent, lifeless. Not a single person in sight. Empty stores stand abandoned. Their shutters closed for who knows how long. The street outside, just as deserted, lined with vacant units. He used to come here to collect rent. Now he comes to collect properties, the first shop in the North City foodie area. He bought it 10 years ago. When he purchased it, the original tenants, an elderly couple, had already run their grocery shop there for more than a decade. It was the neighborhood's small supermarket. Today, he still hasn't settled this year's rent. I'm retired now, he said. Look at this place. It's not just a supermarket anymore. I don't even know what kind of nightlife could survive here. He couldn't understand why suddenly nothing could be sold. Back then, old men lined up every morning to buy cigarettes. On delivery days, they would sit along the roadside, waiting for the truck, and locals could tell what day of the week it was just by watching them gather. When the truck arrived, everyone rushed in. I hadn't even stocked the shelves and they were already grabbing cigarettes, the owner recalled. Now those old customers have vanished. Some quit smoking. Some only buy cheap cigarettes to smoke at home. Even packs costing 10 or 20 yuan hardly sell. Forget luxury ones. He summed up the reasons. First, livestream shopping brought tons of cheaper, often faked products. Second, fewer people give gifts now, so cigarette sales collapsed. Third, new varieties keep appearing. Ten years ago, there were only a few dozen. Now there are hundreds. Costs keep rising, but sales don't. Second-hand homes simply can't be sold, yet sellers keep raising prices. Inventory piles up, prices go higher, but buyers vanish. How can sales keep falling like this, he asked. Even flagship stores built with tens of millions of yuan have lost their purpose. This year, Riyadh department store in New World Day, Daymaru, closed their doors in Shanghai. On Nanjing West Road, once the symbol of luxury, Gucci now has only a single store left in Plaza 66. And this isn't the worst. Last year, Gucci shut down many locations across major cities, including Dalian Times Square, Shen Yun Shouzhan, and Taiwan Wangfujing, a total of nine closures. According to the financial report from Caring Group, Gucci's parent company, last year's operating profit dropped 46%, and net profit plunged 62%. Caring openly admitted that weakness in China's consumer market was a major reason for the decline. Behind this isn't just reduced spending. It reflects a deeper shift in consumer mentality. Luxury goods are no longer symbols of desire. For many, they've become burdens. This is why so many luxury brands are under unprecedented pressure today. Tell me, isn't this the truth? Few people could imagine that in prosperous Shanghai, there exists a massive ghost town, Chongming Greenland Long Island. Located on the northern side of Chongming Island, China's third largest island, the area was once marketed as a beautiful ecological zone ideal for leisure and retirement. The local government even envisioned it as a model for green development. The Greenland Long Island project covered 2.35 million square meters. High-rise condos, Western-style houses, villas, over 100,000 units, with a total investment of 20 billion yuan. In 2014, Greenland and Group acquired the land in Kelong Town at an extremely low cost, with construction priced at only around 1,000 yuan per square meter. Early luxury developments like Linjiang City and Eurostyle Towns sold for over 10,000 yuan per square meter and were wildly popular. In 2016, the market was booming. Thousands of units sold out within two hours. But once owners moved in, they discovered reality was nothing like the brochures. Developers had promoted the area as tourist villas surrounded by pristine landscapes. But after settlement, homeowners learned the project was actually part of the Qidong Binjiang Industrial Park, surrounded by chemical factories. When the wind blew, acrid chemical odors swept through the community. The riverside homes became the front-line victims of industrial fumes. Even worse, some houses were still temporary constructions. Long Island is isolated by the river, far from any major town. Within 10 kilometers, it's mostly barren land and farmland. Now, almost no one lives there. Walking through the area, the silence is overwhelming. Neatly arranged buildings, elegant gates, wide roads built for two bus lanes. The infrastructure for prosperity is all there. But what's missing is the most critical element, people. White trash bags and construction debris scatter across the roads, especially near the Yangtze River. There are no supermarkets, no restaurants, only a few locals pushing tricycles or scooters to sell simple goods. These tiny stalls barely serve the handful of remaining residents. When the sun sets, the emptiness becomes even more pronounced. People now call it a ghost city. The fate of Greenland-Long Island mirrors a shadow hanging over China's rapid urbanization, a dazzling beginning that ends in silence. And it's not an isolated case. Across China's fast-expanding cities, the same pattern repeats. Driven by investment, new districts rise overnight, but real life never catches up. Massive residential areas remain empty for years, turning into ghost cities. It's as if someone pressed a pause button and no one knows when, or if, these places will ever start again.