For nearly a year, Junghwa has been leaving her home early in the morning, commuting to her “office,” returning home in the evening—and sticking to the routine like any dedicated employee. But there’s one strange detail: No one is paying her for it—in fact, she’s the one paying.
She quit her job in finance in spring 2024, hoping for a more stable life. However, she didn’t tell her family and didn’t want to face uncomfortable questions. At first, she spent time in libraries and cafés, but now she pays about 400 yuan a month (around $dollars or NIS 185) to a company that allows her to pretend she’s working.
And she’s not alone. This phenomenon, which the local media has dubbed “Pretend-to-work companies,” is gaining traction in major Chinese cities like Beijing and Shanghai. For a daily fee of 30–50 yuan ($4–$7), clients receive a “complete” work environment: A desk, Wi-Fi, a coffee machine, lunch—and sometimes even fake tasks, staged supervisory rounds, fictitious managers, and even symbolic “worker uprisings” for those seeking exaggerated office realism.
The model resembles co-working spaces, but with a dramatic twist: No contracts, no actual purpose—just the atmosphere of work. For many, it’s a way to feel busy, even if no one actually expects anything from them.
Why Are They Doing It?
The numbers speak for themselves: According to China’s National Bureau of Statistics, the urban unemployment rate in the first quarter of 2025 stood at 5.3%. But among young people aged 16 to 24 (excluding students), it spiked to 16.5% in March, and among those aged 25–29, it was 7.2%.
Just a year earlier, in June 2023, a concerning record of 21.3% youth unemployment was registered, prompting the authorities to stop publishing the figures for several months. After a change in the calculation method (excluding students), the numbers began to drop gradually—but the gap between young people and older adults in China’s job market remains deep.
Behind Junghwa’s satisfied smile hides a motive not often spoken of: The need to hide her unemployment from her family. She’s not the only one. Across China, stories are surfacing of young people who continue to wear work clothes every morning, leave for the “office,” and spend their days in quiet spaces like libraries, cafés, or simulated offices—all to avoid raising suspicion. Some even take photos sitting in executive chairs, “marketing” themselves as workers to reassure parents and relatives.
In Hebei Province in northern China, for example, an ad was released for such a service offering: “29.9 yuan a day, work from 10:00 to 17:00, lunch included.” Another service provider offered a special deal for those who want to appear busy: A photo shoot as a “boss” in a luxurious leather chair—one photo worth a quiet home.
The trend, which has garnered over 100 million views on the social media platform Xiaohongshu (China’s equivalent of Instagram), is not just sparking curiosity—it’s igniting debate: Is this a smart solution to mental stress, or simply a way to escape responsibility?
Why would anyone pay to pretend they’re working? There’s no clear-cut answer. The Spanish newspaper El País recently published a feature on this strange and growing trend and even visited one of these companies to understand what makes it so appealing. Some of its “employees” said they were there simply because the concept seemed interesting; others found it nice to have a cheap place to relax instead of wandering aimlessly at home, and a few hoped the experience would help them land a real job soon. “Although some friends really do need a place to pretend they’re working, most of us are just here because it’s interesting,” said content creator Xu Lin.
In contrast, Jiawei, a former e-commerce worker from Hangzhou, found himself unemployed after the company he worked for collapsed. Instead of telling his family, he spent his days in a café, sending out résumés, and only returned home in the evening—sometimes even staying late to simulate “overtime.”
A similar story came from Chen, 29, who was laid off from a chip factory in Wuhan. He also chose not to tell his partner about being fired and spent weeks in the city library studying for the civil service exams. “I didn’t want to pass my stress on to others,” he explained in an interview.
In China, unemployment is not just an economic issue—it’s a serious social stigma. For many, not having a job signifies personal failure. In this reality, the “pretending” phenomenon offers quiet emotional refuge: even those who’ve lost their way can at least appear to be busy.
“Chinese society exerts enormous pressure to succeed,” explained Professor Zhang Yong from the University of Science and Technology in Wuhan. “Young people sometimes set unrealistic expectations for themselves, and when they fail, the result can be depression.”
According to him, this is a relatively small phenomenon—but it’s a symptom of a much deeper issue. “Instead of hiding the difficulty, they need to face the situation, understand the job market, and build a healthier approach to their careers.”