Homes Fully Furnished but People Missing: The Funeral Industry Exposes a Horrifying Truth

In China, every minute two people vanish, averaging three thousand disappearances a day and more than one million each year. Astonishingly, the country is equipped with over 700 million surveillance cameras, on average one camera for every two citizens. In theory, finding the missing should not be difficult, yet no one is rescued and no answers are ever given. At the same time, another chilling phenomenon is unfolding. People across many regions are urgently selling off their homes in a desperate bid to escape. All over the provinces, piles of discarded ID cards have been found, scattered in forests, landfills, and even hidden in caves. What are these people so afraid of? What is really happening inside this country? Join us as we uncover the truth in today's program. A disturbing phenomenon has recently emerged. Residents of the capital Beijing are rushing to put their homes up for sale. One blogger described the scene. Overnight, four sales signs appeared everywhere across the city. The real estate market in Beijing was completely overturned. Out of 100 people, as many as 99 were listing their properties. The questions people ask have changed from, have you bought a house? Where did you buy? To, did you sell your house? At what price? Statistics indicate that nearly 170,000 to 180,000 homes are currently on the market, with hundreds of new listings added every day. One woman explained that even when homeowners lowered prices again and again, their properties still would not sell, leaving inventories to pile up. She lamented that such a situation would have been unthinkable just a few years ago. A property once purchased for 3.2 million yuan, about 440,000 dollars, is now worth only 1.5 million yuan, about 206,000 dollars. Some homes can even be moved into after paying just a 90,000 yuan down payment, about 12,000 dollars. The previous owner had invested hundreds of thousands in renovations, yet still lost more than half of the property's value. The amount once needed to buy a single home is now enough to purchase two. This upheaval coincides with a chilling development that has quietly unfolded in China for years. Large numbers of discarded ID cards have been discovered across the country. At the entrance of a cave near Jiaye Reservoir in Guizhou, a discarded ID card belonging to a girl born in 2009 was found. One such case might not be unusual, but soon after, a man in Hubei who was fishing reeled in a plastic bag full of ID cards. He handed them over to the police, but nothing further was reported. On January 3rd, 2023, according to mainland outlet Jupai News, a man surnamed Jiang discovered a pile of ID cards, medical insurance cards, bank cards, household booklets, and driver's licenses discarded in roadside garbage. He explained that he first saw them while dumping trash. The next day, they were still there, so he called the police. Officers from Linjiang Police Station collected the documents and said they were investigating, though they had yet to identify who had thrown them away. In China, ID cards are nearly inseparable from a citizen's daily life, leading many to speculate that something terrible must have happened to these individuals. Earlier in November 2022, a video circulated online featuring Wang Xiangjun, dubbed China's King of Adventure. During an expedition, he discovered large quantities of burned ID cards inside an ice cave believed to belong to missing young women. He also stumbled upon a secret tunnel at the Tibet-Nepal border. Rumors claimed he even saw a live organ harvesting hospital, with helicopters transporting bodies and organs. While these reports have not been independently verified, the footage still exists. Strikingly, in December 2020, Wang Xiangjun suddenly died during a climbing trip. For a long time, there has been substantial evidence of the organ harvesting crisis in China, where prisoners of conscience, Uighurs, Muslims, Falun Gong practitioners, and even ordinary citizens have become victims of this authoritarian regime. All of this circles back to the central question. Why are Beijing residents urgently selling their houses? The panic stems from the military parade held by the Chinese Communist Party at Tiananmen Square in Beijing on September 3, 2025. During the event, an exchange between Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin stunned the public. Putin's translator relayed Xi's words. In the past, few lived to 70, but today 70 is still just a child. Putin responded that biotechnology was advancing, organs could be transplanted repeatedly, making people younger and even immortal. After a loud laugh, Xi Jinping added, this century humanity could live to 150 years. The remark immediately triggered panic across Beijing, leading many to associate it with the CCP's organ harvesting crimes. This also caused many who had previously dismissed such claims to reconsider and even change their views. Although authorities quickly deleted the video and censored related keywords, netizens bypassed China's firewall to circulate it again. On September 3, searches for 150 on WeChat skyrocketed by 9,650.24% compared to March, with over 3.36 million searches in a single day. Some wrote, if Xi really lives to 150, that would be an endless hell. In Guangzhou, a man who shared the 150 years video in a WeChat group was detained by local police, accused of spreading AI-generated rumors and now faces 3 to 10 years in prison. This was widely ridiculed online as a clumsy cover-up. Lawyer Yu Fei bluntly stated, Xi says people can live to 150, but my clients like Hu Xinyu only get to live to 15. He emphasized that in a normal country, a wave of missing teenagers would lead the government to protect them, yet the CCP has done the opposite. Surveillance footage from one Chinese city captured a man kidnapping a girl dressed in red on the street, with his accomplice driving a van to meet him. Whether the girl was rescued remains unknown. China has more than 700 million cameras, the most in the world. With a population of 1.4 billion, that averages one camera for every two citizens. In theory, finding missing people should not be difficult. Yet the reality is grim. In 2020 alone, about 2,539 people went missing every day, with 1 million missing over the year. That translates to two people disappearing every single minute. Observers have noted another disturbing trend. China's population itself seems to be disappearing. Streets once crowded are now empty, rush-hour traffic jams have vanished, popular restaurants are deserted, and for-rent signs hang everywhere. One blogger recalled, back when China had 1.2 to 1.3 billion people, everywhere was packed. Now with 1.4 billion, it feels like no one is around. Some argue city workers have returned to their hometowns, but rural areas are just as empty. Even food delivery orders are down 60% this year. From the largest cities to the smallest villages, the atmosphere feels desolate. The unfolding scenes in Beijing, panicked home sales, abandoned ID cards, missing citizens, and Xi Jinping's unsettling remarks paint a picture of a society gripped by fear and distrust. At its core lies a profound loss of confidence in governance and security, plunging the nation into a moral and social freefall. The Chinese Communist Party may persist with censorship and denial, but the truth seeps through in whispers, videos, and abandoned homes. A silent testament to a population sensing something deeply sinister beneath the surface. Empty villages, homes fully furnished but people missing, funeral industry exposes, surge in deaths among post-90s and post-2000s as COVID positivity rates soar, hundreds of millions of missing people hidden. In the past one to two years, the phenomenon of empty villages has suddenly become a hot topic, drawing significant public attention. In northeast China, the number of such deserted villages has surged dramatically. Once bustling communities have now turned into desolate places, with houses and furniture still intact, but the people gone. Footage shows that many villages once lively are now reduced to piles of bricks and overgrown weeds. Entire streets that were once busy are now silent, without a single resident. Locals explain that young people have all moved away, while the elderly have been taken to the The eerie silence of these abandoned villages highlights a troubling reality. Rural residents are vanishing in a mysterious way. Bloggers in Liaoning, Heilongjiang, and Jilin have recorded intact residential compounds where no one lives anymore. Houses are clean, with clothes, furniture, and even firewood still in place. In some cases, towels were still hanging on clotheslines, as if the families had left suddenly without tidying up. This has fueled suspicions that something deeper and hidden is at play. Many houses, once grand and sturdy, now stand with windows removed and doors ajar, yet the interiors remain untouched. Normally, if a family moved away, they would sell or rent out their property rather than leave it vacant. Some speculate that belongings were even stolen after residents mysteriously disappeared. Such images are widespread across the northeast, but not confined to it. Observers argue that urbanization alone cannot explain this phenomenon. Even in the south, home to China's largest cities, many deserted villages exist. Their common features are intact houses, functioning infrastructure such as schools and hospitals, and yet a complete lack of residents. It is as if entire communities were wiped out overnight. This raises a troubling question. Is China facing a severe population decline? According to official data from the Chinese Communist Party's National Bureau of Statistics, by the end of 2024, China's population was around 1.4 billion, a decrease of 1.39 million from the previous year. Although the regime often conceals the truth, it has been forced to admit a population drop. Yet many sources suggest the reality is far worse, with the current population possibly below 1 billion or even under 800 million people. A Daoyuan blogger revealed shocking figures. Mortality rates among those born in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s range from 4% to 10%. But alarmingly, among the post-90s generation, people only in their 30s, 33 million have already died, nearly 18%. The post-2000 generation, still very young, has seen over 11 million deaths. Compared with earlier generations, the mortality rate among younger people is abnormally high. Explanations vary. Job pressures, unemployment, debt burdens, suicides, unhealthy diets, and above all, sudden deaths caused by overwork. Doctors warn of rising cases of heart attacks and strokes among the young, with patients sometimes only in their 20s or 30s. Funeral workers report that most bodies arriving now are from the post-80s and 90s generations. Some victims have been as young as 18. Another serious factor lies behind this crisis, the relentless spread of COVID-19. Doctors from Beijing to Hebei continue to warn that positivity rates are climbing. The virus mutates quickly, though its lethality may have weakened. Its transmissibility is stronger than ever, keeping the risk of infection persistently high. Many citizens online complain of sore throats, lingering coughs, dizziness, and exhaustion. On September 5 this year, which coincided with the 14th day of the 7th lunar month, known as the Ghost Festival or Zhongyuan Festival, streets filled with the flames of burning joss paper looked like scenes of hell. The number of people burning paper was significantly higher than in previous years, raising public concern. Why is this happening? The explanation many whisper is chilling. Too many people have died. For critics, this serves as yet more evidence of a drastic population decline in recent years, one the authorities have desperately concealed. And the greatest secret behind these empty villages may well be that vast numbers of Chinese citizens died during the pandemic, leaving towns and villages deserted. Today, the CCP continues to cover up the truth, even as more and more people are passing away. In this era of chaos under CCP rule, every individual in China is left to ask, how can we protect ourselves? And how can we ever truly be safe? China's greatest revolt. The younger generation gives up completely, no buying homes, no marriage, no kids. The CCP has nothing left to harvest. In China, anything deemed valuable or highly desirable comes with a high barrier to entry, whether it's family connections, backdoor deals, grueling exams, or even a lottery system. But marriage and children? There are no backdoors, no exams. The doors are wide open, and there are even subsidies to encourage it. Why? It's about producing the next generation of cheap labor, a way for the Chinese Communist Party to exploit the people, as Gen Z now sees it. If marriage and parenthood were truly a good deal, they would be restricted, like the civil service exam. Seeing this for what it is, Gen Z's choice is clear. They are opting out, refusing to participate. By doing so, they are forcing those in power to confront the realities of population decline and social stagnation, pushing society to rethink and change. This despair largely stems from a harsh job market. Gen Z struggles in various ways, finding their efforts fruitless. Full of passion, they dedicate over a decade to rigorous study, with their families investing hundreds of thousands in education, hoping to achieve their dreams through higher education. But once they enter society, they find it saturated, with no place for them. Even more ironically, their salaries are sometimes lower than those of food delivery or ride-hailing drivers. For women, getting married or having children makes finding work nearly impossible. Without money, finding a partner is tough, and without a partner, parents apply more pressure. For Gen Z, it's a lose-lose situation. They're damned if they marry, damned if they don't. Many suffer from depression, with some losing the will to live. More and more, Gen Z is realizing that these struggles aren't personal failures, but the result of structural issues in society. Since they cannot forcefully change this under authoritarian rule, they've chosen an alternative form of resistance, lying flat. Since the powerful force formed by the combination of authority, capital, and technology is unstoppable, they've decided not to be leaks to harvest. No mortgage, no car loan, no next generation, no work, no house, no marriage, no kids. Let's see who the CCP can harvest now. If the pigs on this pig farm stop breeding, who suffers more? The male pigs or the females? Neither suffers much. It's the pig farm itself that takes the hit. This metaphor perfectly captures the situation in China today. Pigs are the farm's assets, bred for profit. If they stop reproducing, how can the farm make money? Gen Z understands that, to the Chinese Communist Party, ordinary people are just pigs on a farm, used, harvested, and replaced. So Gen Z has chosen the most direct form of resistance, refusing to have children. It's not just kids from ordinary families lying flat. Even those with government ties are opting out. Last December, a Beijing Gen Z worker's resignation letter went viral. His parents and grandparents all worked for the government, with his retired grandparents collecting 40,000 yuan, approximately $5,500 USD a month, and owning eight apartments. But his parents, both only children, were too busy with work to care for their elderly parents. With average career skills and a tiring job paying just 3,000 to 4,000 yuan, approximately $420, $560 USD a month, he quit to take care of his grandparents. When even privileged children choose to lie flat, it shows that people can't keep up with the grind anymore. Gen Z has no blind loyalty to companies. For them, work is a transaction, fair and transparent. If they don't see growth or rewards, they'll leave in a heartbeat. This has companies scrambling, as traditional management styles no longer work. Tell them they need a house to get married, and they'll ask, why get married? Say that without kids, no one will care for them in old age, and they'll reply, I've been a son for decades, I know exactly how that turns out. Tell them hard work can change their fate, and they'll push back. It's because I can endure hardship that I've had nothing but hardship. It's clear that the younger generation with access to information is increasingly aware and no longer deceived by the CCP's authoritarian regime. They are using various forms of resistance to express their discontent. The 2022 white paper protest movement by young people is evidence of this, as they dare to stand up, fight and chant for the overthrow of the CCP and Xi Jinping. And since then, the revolutionary fire has continued to burn. Despite suppression, protests keep erupting relentlessly. This is why many believe Gen Z may be the ones to fight for ordinary Chinese citizens. They see injustice and resist. They understand solidarity, and they dare to speak out. Alcohol and banquet ban shockwave. Five-star hotels turn to street stalls to survive high-end liquor-facing collapse. One hundred million CCP members oppressed and ready to rebel. The sky's falling, brothers. The alcohol ban has emptied our restaurants. Look at these tables. Empty. Not a single customer. What do we do? One blogger lamented. The shock of China's alcohol and banquet ban is rippling through the catering industry. A grand hotel that once hosted lavish banquets worth thousands of yuan is now reduced to selling boxed meals on the street. With top chefs behind makeshift stalls, their discounted dishes are crushing small eateries already struggling to survive. As reported earlier, in May 2025, Chinese authorities introduced a revised anti-waste regulation that explicitly banned civil servants from serving high-end dishes, cigarettes or alcohol at receptions. The fallout has been dramatic. In Hangzhou, five-star hotels have set up street stalls selling braised dishes just to keep operations alive. The alcohol ban has forced many to pivot into takeout, a space they once scorned, turning them into direct competitors with small family-run shops. As one desperate hotel manager admitted, there's simply no business left. Traditionally, post-exam admission banquets for students had been a major revenue boost for restaurants, even surpassing weddings as marriage rates declined. Now, with the alcohol ban and fresh local crackdowns on banquets, that stream has evaporated, leaving owners in despair. The damage extends beyond restaurants. A delivery driver complained, Since the ban, orders have collapsed. I used to get two or three a day, now none. I'm losing money buying iced tea to stay awake. At 10 p.m. in Siena Valley, once a nightlife hotspot, restaurants and barbecue joints are empty. The only people left are workers or students. China's liquor industry is also reeling. White liquor sales have plunged, and some longtime vendors are considering quitting the trade. Wu, a veteran liquor seller in Inner Mongolia with 30 years of experience, explained how hotels canceled orders, leaving stock unsold. In our small county, civil servants drive consumption. One supports three freelancers. With 100,000 public workers, that means 400,000 people are affected. No drinking, no dining, no gatherings. Restaurants and liquor shops are deserted. My decades-old shop is barely surviving. Premium brands are feeling the pain. Bottles of Feiqian maotai have crashed to 1,140 yuan, about 257 USD, on Pinduoduo, compared to over 2,500 yuan just last year. Hoarding bosses who once counted on liquor appreciation now face devastating losses. Meanwhile, Weibo posts revealed new restrictions. CCP rules forbid government agencies, public institutions, and state-owned enterprises from dining out in groups larger than three, even with colleagues. Leaders now demand signed pledges of compliance. A Hubei netizen fumed, We can only eat with immediate family, no clan gatherings, no reunions, no weddings, no admission banquets, and no complaints allowed. Guangzhou has imposed even stricter measures, banning civil servants from attending any obviously cliquish gatherings. Critics say the CCP's real goal is clear, to prevent officials and insiders from building solidarity or voicing discontent over meals. Historian Li Wanhua, based in Australia, told overseas Chinese media, Public funds should never have been used for lavish dining or drinking, so this policy is laughable. It's a superficial move to make the CCP seem frugal, but in reality it's driven by shrinking government finances. The regime simply cannot afford it anymore. Analysts warn that with roughly 100 million CCP members already suffering from salary cuts and deepening repression, this ban is fueling resentment inside the party itself. Lai Jianping, a former Beijing lawyer and current chair of the Canada-based Democratic Front, emphasized, This is a two-pronged strategy. The CCP fears both economic collapse and political crisis. By banning alcohol, it not only cuts costs, but also prevents officials from bonding or organizing against the regime. It atomizes society, turning people into disconnected individuals who distrust each other. This isolates potential dissenters and makes the regime feel safer. But in doing so, it reduces the entire population to political slaves, turning China into one giant prison. Both public employees and ordinary citizens, including those in the catering industry, feel the chill of the CCP's sweeping alcohol ban. How long this arbitrary top-down policy will last remains to be seen. Thank you for tuning into China Today. If you appreciate insightful, independent reporting, please consider subscribing, sharing your feedback in the comments, and engaging with our community. Until we meet again, stay curious and take care.