Beijing in Huge Crisis: 2 Million Leave the City as Shocking Signs of Decline Emerge

Why aren't young people coming to Beijing? An article from Economic Observer point out that in 2015, there were 4.6 million people aged 20 to 29 in Beijing. But by 2024, that number had dropped to just 2.5 million. Over 10 years, more than 2.12 million young people have left the city equivalent to the population of a medium-sized city. From the perspective of ordinary people, the main reason isn't that young people don't want to come, it's that even if they come, they often end up empty-handed. Job opportunities in Beijing have visibly shrunk, and career advancement has become increasingly narrow. The capital's economy is dominated by traditional central enterprise headquarters, but positions there are limited. This also squeezes the survival space for small and medium-sized innovative enterprises. For ordinary young people, this means not only higher barriers to entrepreneurship, but also fewer opportunities to enter good companies. Graduate choices reflect the trend. In 2013, over 70% of undergraduates chose to stay in Beijing, but in 2024, that number had fallen to 42%. Young people are voting with their feet. Under the combined pressure of high rent, rising living costs, and fewer job opportunities, Beijing, once seen as China's prime destination for young people chasing their dreams, is experiencing a massive talent exodus. This group had been the main force behind shopping and consumption. They pursued fashion, tried new brands, and supported the prosperity of restaurants and entertainment. When young people vote with their feet, it's not just the population that leaves, it's purchasing power, birth rates, innovation capacity, and the city's growth potential for the next 20 years. Hello, everyone. I am the homeroom teacher. This is the live report from April 20th, Monday, at World Trade Center Mall. Many stores above have closed. On the ground floor, only Massimo Duty and the service desk remain. Massimo Duty and Zara over there are still open. We decided to get a drink, but Starbucks had already closed. Only Zara is left there. We checked for some clothes, but there wasn't anything. Oh, this store closed on February 9th, so we came too late. All right, we're leaving now. Beijing Luxury Shopping Street, World Trade Center Mall, looks like this. Adjacent to the well-known Shanlitun and Shoushui Street, located in Beijing CBD, and featuring Asia's largest LCD screen, the Dream Sky Dome, it is now quiet and deserted, a scene of desolation. Recently, netizens filmed a large shopping center outside Beijing's Second Ring Road during dinner hours, showing sparse crowds. Restaurants there have either closed or are facing severe operational pressures. It's already 7.30 now. Take a look. Behold the current state of Beijing's dining scene. Overall, the situation is far from ideal. Occupancy rates are very low, as you can see. Beijing's three most famous pedestrian streets now hardly see any local residents. First, Wangfujing Street, once a historic, bustling commercial hub and a showcase of traditional Beijing shops, has become almost tourist-focused. A few years ago, the snack street closed. Local specialties like fried scorpions, roasted cold noodles, or sesame-stuffed pancakes with squid are all gone. Locals mostly avoid the area. Second, Tianmen Street, once a network of old hutong filled with authentic Beijing snacks, has been renovated into a recreated ancient-style commercial street. Over-commercialized and low in value, it mainly attracts photo-taking visitors. Third, the most regrettable, South Luogu Lane, once a symbol of old Beijing hutong culture, now has its main street crowded with assembly-line creative shops and trendy snack stores. On holidays, it's packed, but apart from nearby visitors, almost no locals are present. Today, Beijing's streets are quiet. Shops stand empty, and even locals are beginning to leave the city. Foot traffic is visibly declining, and the city's desolation has been repeatedly reported by various media. In many ways, Beijing is experiencing a rare downturn and decline not seen in centuries. Look at the street behind me. I counted. It has no fewer than 200 shops. How many are actually for rent? Back in the day, even a single ground-floor shop would cost 3-4 million RMB. Stretching as far as the eye can see, and you can't even spot a single person. Years have passed, and now even using these spaces as warehouses doesn't attract anyone. Millions of RMB have gone to waste. As China's political and cultural center, Beijing relies heavily on the service sector. The tertiary industry is the main economic driver. Yet, as both consumption and service demand slow, the city's commercial districts are quietly losing their form of prosperity. At Wangfujing's Oriental Plaza, once a benchmark area for foreign dining and retail, foreign retailers are now steadily leaving Beijing. On March 18, Singapore-based Bread Talk quietly closed its last store here. Having entered China in 2003 and grown to over 400 stores at its peak nationwide, it now has only about 170 remaining, mainly in Guangdong. Shortly after Bread Talk's subsidiary Food Republic announced it would close its last Beijing location on June 15. After this closure, only four outlets remain in China, all in Shanghai. Around the same period, Galeries Lafayette's Beijing Xidan store officially closed on May 27 after 13 years of operation. Luxury consumption had once been a cornerstone of Beijing's high-end shopping centers, but even this iconic French department store has opted for a strategic contraction. After the taunting location closed, the Beijing closure is now seen as a signal that China's luxury boom is gradually fading. The continued exit of established foreign brands is not an isolated case. It reflects cooling domestic demand and foreign companies adjusting their strategies. Recently, Beijing blogger Anxious Croquette posted a live video showing the current state of New Times Plaza, a shopping center located between the Second and Third Ring Roads. It was dinner time, yet the mall was sparsely populated. Most restaurants were nearly empty and many stores had already closed. Even where meals were affordable, around 30 to 40 RMB per set, customers were few. The blogger noted that this shopping center fared much better before the COVID-19 pandemic, but foot traffic has declined sharply since. Many advertising spaces are now inactive and some floors feel empty and desolate. Apart from a few visitors to children's training centers and the cinema, business of other tenants is generally weak. The blogger lamented that it took only seven to eight years for prosperity to turn into decline. Many commercial complexes in Beijing face similar challenges, with both mall stores and street-level shops under immense operational pressure. Recently, Beijing Street has witnessed a subtle policy shift. The street life vibrancy that was once strictly controlled the street stall economy is re-emerging in a low-key regulated form. Blogger Anxious Croquette observes that from empty malls and closed restaurants to expanding night markets and a surge in street vendors, the changes reflect more than just shift in consumer habits. They also indicate that China's economy, under pressures from real estate adjustments, weak domestic demand and employment challenges, is undergoing a deep structural transformation. With real estate, internet and education sector continue to face pressure, large-scale layoffs have occurred. Many workers are forced to turn to lower barrier flexible employment, including starting street stalls. Due to severe population outflow and declining consumption in Beijing, even low-barrier street vending has become difficult. On a typical street with 10 stalls, 8 sell sausages. On a good day, they might earn a few dozen yuan, which isn't enough for rent and city inspectors could confiscate everything. What once served as a buffer through flexible employment is now often a reluctant choice. I've realized it's really hard to make money in Beijing now, nothing sells well. A friend recently spent 15,000 yuan on a course to make small pastries, over 3,000 yuan on a tricycle, over 1,000 yuan to weld a rack, and with materials, the total came to nearly 30,000 yuan. On the first day, he sold just over 300 yuan, the second day only a few dozen, the third day he shaved his head, and on the fourth day he made over 3,000 yuan in one afternoon because he sold the tricycle. I sell ice jelly in Beijing and I see many friends still hesitating about whether to open a stall and what to sell. I want to say, if you already have a job, try not to fall into this trap. A single stall may not have much inventory, but your minimum investment is still at least 2,000 yuan. And with this year's market conditions, the entire market is difficult. Many nearby night markets struggle. Without a prime location with high foot traffic, you can't even break even. According to incomplete statistics from Beijing Youth Daily, in May alone, there were over 20 different types of market events in Beijing. Street vendors, officially classified as flexible employment, have suddenly increased and the group is becoming younger. At the Shuangqiao subway station in Beijing, around 7pm, crowds flow from the direction of the Communication University of China. While office buildings and residential communities in the Tongzhou sub-centre on the east side provide a natural stream of customers, this spot is considered a prime stall location. Although there are many people, most visitors only browse without buying, creating a stark contrast between the bustling crowd and the nearby empty stalls. Recently, a Chinese reporter interviewed Guo, a sausage vendor, when asked how business was Guo's side while flipping the sausages. Three yuan each, just enough for a little pocket money. It's worse after the pandemic. Selling 50 in a day used to be the peak, now even 20 is difficult. The chilli powder is freshly ground, it's such a waste. Adding to the frustration, he feels uneasy recalling scenes of city inspectors overturning stalls and beating vendors. He worries that if he follows a trend and sets up a stall now, what would happen if policy change and his stall is shut down? Guo said, don't set up before 7pm. Once a small white car stops, I have to ride my tricycle through the alleys, like playing hide and seek. The capital has so many rules, we have to comply. Not far away, a popular squid stall run by a couple who came to Beijing 17 years ago is piled with bags of ingredients. They used to sell over 700 portions at night, now even selling 100 is a struggle. Young people hesitate to eat much, leaving mostly middle-aged customers picking and choosing. The grilled cold noodles vendor lamented, before DD drivers would stop by for late night snacks, now the traffic never stops. I used to go through 4 bottles of vinegar in a day, but now I can't even finish one. The spicy hotpot vendor packed up early in the quiet. Men don't like it, it's expensive and not filling. A young cold bean jelly stall owner stated in a video, in such a small area, there are 7 stalls selling cold bean jelly or cold noodles. Competition is fierce. The accounts from these vendors paint a picture of the hardship of grassroots survival. This is not the earn hundreds a day ease often imagined. It's a struggle, just to get by. A guerrilla-style fight where city inspectors could evict you at any moment, competition is fierce, average spending per customer is low, and even dense crowds rarely translate into actual purchases. As China's political center, Beijing has long been required to maintain order and uphold the city's image, expelling lower-income population and strictly regulating mobile vendors was the standard approach. Today, practical pressures have caused cracks in this enforcement. The term street stall economy gained attention around 2020 after the ex-premier Li Keqiang promoted it. He saw it as a way to maintain everyday vibrancy, stabilize employment, and help lower-income citizens survive, especially during the pandemic, by activating local vitality at minimal cost. Some areas briefly relaxed restrictions, but a systemic resistance and policy tightening soon followed. As the capital Beijing responded with strict enforcement, six years later, reality has broken. Through some of these bans, the increasingly difficult lives of grassroots citizens have forced limited policy adjustments. As the capital Beijing responded with strict enforcement, six years later, reality has broken. Through some of these bans, the increasingly difficult lives of grassroots citizens have Stepping outside, it's easier to see that night markets are growing and the stalls are becoming trendier. Some joke that young people are tired of the 996 overwork culture and earning meager pay and turning to street vending for competition. But while vending offers freedom, it's far harder than regular work and more exhausting. Recently, a mother tried vending after months of job search anxiety to supplement her household income. After three months, she had to quit. In her view, cutting losses in time was the best decision. Today, I want to share what I learned after half a month of vending. Honestly, I really want to say, if you have a stable job, don't quit it lightly to start vending. You may have seen online claims about how profitable street vending is, making hundreds or even thousands a day. But once you actually step into it, you realize it's not that easy or simple. The path is tough. You can see that many people are vending along the entire street, but very few are truly making money. Most people struggle blindly earning just enough to cover household expenses. It's not the huge profit people online claim. For me, the reason I tried vending was because I needed to care for my child. As a mother, it's hard to find flexible work. After my half month experience, I found this path very hard. You get physically exhausted, can't care for your child properly, and ultimately don't earn money. I still want to advise everyone to be very cautious. The street stall economy is expanding rapidly, raising concerns among brick and mortar merchants that their already struggling business will be further diverted. A merchant complained, the mall setting up these markets isn't necessarily good for some businesses. You've probably seen those notebook or grain stalls. They operate all day, mostly in the central atrium, the most visible spot, attracting a lot of people. But the problem is, there are already so many stalls inside the mall. Why introduce a bunch of temporary stalls? Often these stalls are even busier than the neighboring shops. Is that really fair for merchants who have been paying rent all along? It seems the mall isn't just selling goods. It's trying to make the place livelier. But does this liveliness help the mall or hurt the original businesses? What do you think? In recent years, first-tier cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Shenzhen have gradually relaxed restrictions on streets. Vending brings the street stall economy back into public view. On the surface, this appears to provide a flexible space to address employment challenges and ease public pressure. In reality, however, the policy reflects a deepening economic strain. Street vending is essentially the most basic form of economic activity, typically emerging when society lacks stable employment and industries cannot absorb labor. Its resurgence in the most developed cities suggests that China's economy is reaching its limits. With traditional growth paths failing, industrial upgrading and job creation lagging, and the government forced to revert to lowest-tier approaches to maintain social stability. What's more concerning is that the Chinese communist regime response to the economic difficulties facing young people remains superficial. Official rhetoric emphasizes flexible employment and entrepreneurship and innovation, but structural problems, soaring housing prices, heavy educational and medical burdens, and job losses from industrial relocation are ignored. These are the real reasons young people struggle. Street vending does not resolve these deeper contradictions. It merely masks the issue in the temporary bustle of the streets. While the government loudly proclaims stabilizing employment, it lacks meaningful policy reform and protection, forcing youth to survive in the most precarious economic arrangements.