Su Cong, 29, was scrolling on his phone in February when he noticed an ad with undeniable appeal: a temporary retreat, a fresh start, a mental adjustment, a healed soul.
The Beijing tech worker had just returned from visiting family in Chengdu over the Lunar New Year holiday, and was already dreaming of his next vacation. In his online search for escapism, he stumbled upon a new type of business targeting restless workers just like him.
The social media post dubbed it a “youth nursing home,” where the young and able can go to work primarily on their mental health and happiness, far from the hectic urban grind.
These slow-paced havens have become the latest attempt by young Chinese to reckon with growing unemployment, economic disillusionment and shifting attitudes about careers and the workplace.
“I thought this would be a good way for me to relieve some stress,” Su said.
In seeking a more balanced, less stressful life, Chinese young people are mirroring trends seen in the U.S. and other nations, where the younger generations are rebelling against previous workplace pressures, and demanding more flexibility and personal time.
After some research, Su found a retreat a couple of hours from his home. He requested permission to work remotely, subleased his room in a three-bedroom rental apartment and left for his new home in the fields and mountains west of Beijing.
When he arrived at the Guanye Youth Retirement Village — named with the Chinese word for “observing wilderness” — he said the peace and quiet felt like paradise. In Beijing, work was relentless, from the daily, hour-long commute to long shifts in the office. Even during lunch breaks, he and co-workers would often talk shop.
Now, aside from morning check-ins with the Beijing office, Su sets his own schedule. He often takes breaks in the afternoon to nap or wander around the village.
The facility organizes activities for residents like painting, horseback riding, and hiking along the nearby river and mountains. Su joins if he has time, though he prefers networking activities and socializing after dinner.
“It’s like a utopia,” Su said, who pays about $420 a month for room and board, cheaper than his monthly rent in Beijing. “I’m able to completely disconnect from work mode.”
As unemployment rises in China, some young adults become ‘full-time children’ at home with their parents. Critics call it ‘gnawing on the elderly.’
In China over the past few years, a stagnating economy and a cutthroat job market have given rise to an entirely new lexicon to talk about modern-day burnout.
Chinese workers often invoke the word neijuan, or “involution,” to describe working harder for little to no gains. Tangping, or “lying flat,” became a ubiquitous term for opting out of the rat race, not unlike the term “quiet quitting” in the U.S. Bailan, or “let it rot,” spread, too, as an even more pessimistic reflection of giving up.
“The competition is just overwhelming,” said Jenny Chan, associate professor of sociology at Hong Kong Polytechnic University, adding that economic anxiety among her students is growing. “Even with the formal education credentials, the tangible difference between candidates is quite minimal now.”
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1. Residents hike along the river in the village. 2. A visit to a nearby temple. (Guo Lu Wang / For The Times)
Young Chinese graduates talk about “shedding their scholarly robes” to accept whatever work they can find despite their degrees. Some have resorted to calling themselves “full-time children” while living at home with their parents.
Enter the new wave of youth-oriented retreats.
According to the website Xinhong, which collects data on social media trends, the hashtag “youth nursing home” has been viewed more than 8 million times since its creation in early 2023 on Xiaohongshu, or Little Red Book, a Chinese app similar to Instagram.
Online interest spiked in July after a video went viral featuring one of the country’s first retreats, which doesn’t accept residents older than 45.
Spurred by declining job prospects in the cities and government efforts to lift up rural areas, young people in China are becoming farmers.
“Our generation is under so much pressure,” said Lu Baike, the founder of a “youth nursing home” in China’s southern Yunnan province. “Young people shouldn’t just struggle. They need to rest too.”
The team behind Guanye started in 2018, when a group of friends and former roommates began buying up old houses and converting them into guesthouses.
In June, they opened four dormitories that could house up to 300 residents and started advertising on social media as a “youth retirement home.”
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1. Dong Jiaping, a co-founder of Guanye Youth Retirement Village, rides a horse on the grounds. 2. Residents work in the garden. (Guo Lu Wang / For The Times)
“It started as a casual idea,” said co-founder Wang Guolu, 29. “When we seriously considered it, we realized that the term ‘retirement’ could attract young people to some extent.”
Wang said residents are a mix of remote workers like Su, short-term visitors and weekend guests.
Instead of employees, they enlist volunteers who help with chores in return for free room and board. The retreat offers a mix of five dozen free and paid activities, including sheep herding, embroidery and interactive role-playing games with elderly villagers.
“It’s not that young people today just want to be idle or retire early. They are seeking a truly relaxed state, because their everyday lives are often so stressful,” she said.
Chan, the Hong Kong Polytechnic University professor, said that given the country’s economic malaise, ambitious young workers cannot afford to rest forever.
“It seems to be better than just feeling sorry for themselves,” Chan said of the new youth retreats. “But for the long term, I definitely believe they also want to sustain themselves as productive members of society who can also make income.”
Dong Xue, 28, said her time at Guanye allowed her to figure out the next step in her career, rather than “lie flat.”
Phrases such as “Great Resignation,” “quiet quitting” and “coffee badging” have taken the internet by storm. But the terms also show workers trying to exert power.
Dong had been working as an interior designer in Beijing for five years and felt her career at the company had plateaued. She quit at the end of last year and started freelancing, while longing for a quiet place to retreat to.
She signed up to volunteer at Guanye, where she spent two hours a day on chores such as clearing tables, tidying up common areas and making beds.
Her two months there have been physically and mentally healing, she said. An instructor of standing meditation practices helped her adjust her spine from long hours at her desk, and a tarot card reading convinced her that she shouldn’t give up on her current career.
The southwestern Chinese city of Dali has become a haven for digital nomads and others seeking a carefree lifestyle.
She returned to Beijing at the end of August to look for full-time work. She said she missed some big-city amenities, like easy access to fried chicken and boba milk tea, but may still visit the village for short holidays.
“After staying for a while, it gave me the motivation to start fresh,” Dong said. “But if I stay too long, I might get too immersed in this way of life.”
Times staff writer Yang and special correspondent Wu reported from Taipei, Taiwan.
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