big read[Big read] Love is hard to find for millions of rural Chinese men
The gender imbalance in China, especially in the rural areas, has resulted in many men not being able to find a partner. Some are still looking; others have given up and are resigned to being single. Lianhe Zaobao correspondent Li Kang speaks to some of these single men about their views.
As chickens crowed in the backyard, piping hot dishes of stir-fried pork with pepper and stir-fried Chinese cabbage were already set on the table.
After washing up, Li Hongxing walked into the kitchen and scooped a big bowl of rice. He told me: “See, I’m nearly 50, and my mother still treats me like a kid.”
At 48, Li lives with his parents and is still unmarried. After eating breakfast alone, and just as the sky begins to brighten, he rushes to a nearby factory for work.
While cleaning up the dishes, he whispered: “My mother is almost 80. I wonder how many more years I’ll get to eat breakfasts like this.”
In the rural villages of central-western Hubei, single men like Li are far from rare. Some are nearly 50, others just over 30. But because of their financial situation or work conditions, they have never married, and are part of China’s large population of bachelors.
Speaking about the biggest barrier to marriage, their reply was almost identical: money.
As many as 30 million bachelors in rural China
Chinese academics once estimated that there were about 20 million single men in rural China in 2014. A decade later, while there are no official statistics, academics generally believe that the number has risen to 30 million. Rural men at the bottom of China’s marriage market now face even tougher odds than a decade ago.
Over the past month, I interviewed six single men from rural areas in Hubei and Jiangsu, including one born in the 1970s, three in the 1980s, and two from the post-90s generation. Speaking about the biggest barrier to marriage, their reply was almost identical: money.
Liao, 40, dated a woman from his village in Hubei in the early 2000s. She agreed to marry him, but her family demanded a bride price of 150,000 RMB (US$21,185). At the time, Liao worked as a chef and only took home a few hundred RMB a month, so there was no way he could afford it, and the wedding fell through.
Meanwhile, Xiong Xiaohong did once make good money. Over two decades ago, he co-ran a sauna and bathhouse, and earned 20,000 to 30,000 RMB a month at one point. But he later developed a gambling addiction, lost all his savings, and even served time in prison for drug-related offences.
Now 42, Xiong has nothing left except the family home left behind by his parents in rural Hubei. After such dramatic ups and downs, he is back to toiling on construction sites whether rain or shine, looking a decade older than he actually is.
Speaking about marriage, he sighed: “For those of us born in the 1980s, love still mattered more. It’s not like now — everything is about money.”
Post-90s bachelor Yi Chunlei has long known that marriage costs money. A few years ago, he met a suitable girl and was generous from the start, gifting her a gold bangle worth over 4,000 RMB after only a few meetings, and even helped her pay off more than 100,000 RMB in credit card debt.
He had thought that his efforts would result in marriage, but the girl later presented him with an even bigger bill. Because he had borrowed the 100,000-plus RMB he had already spent on her, Yi did not dare spend any more and had no choice but to break up with her. Afterwards, he and his father spent more than a year doing odd jobs on construction sites just to patch up the debt.
Having had only a few relationships, Yi could not hide his helplessness during the interview, saying he had been “scarred”. Yet his view has not changed at all: women who are still unmarried in their thirties “basically only care about money” and “just want you to throw money at them”.
Not enough money to get married
A key reason rural youths lack “marriage capital” is their generally low level of education. Once they enter the workforce, they job hop, making anything resembling career planning almost impossible.
After graduating from a vocational school in Hubei, Yi became a welder at 16. Over the past decade or so, he worked as an internet cafe attendant, waiter, auxiliary police officer and real estate agent. He has learnt auto repair and tower crane operation, and even driven ride-hailing cars and delivered food. He left his footprints in Wenzhou, Yinchuan and Wuhan, and was even a beipiao (北漂, those struggling to get a career started in Beijing) at one point.
“Riding a motorbike every day was pleasant enough, but earning just over 3,000 RMB a month was basically just muddling along until old age.” He delivered food for a few days — “It was far too cold; the wind was unbearable.” — Yi Chunlei, a post-90s bachelor
But he never managed to stay in any of these jobs for long. He welded for a month — “Forty-odd degrees in the blazing heat, welding all day, and not even a trainee’s wage — who could endure that?” He was an auxiliary police officer for more than a year — “Riding a motorbike every day was pleasant enough, but earning just over 3,000 RMB a month was basically just muddling along until old age.” He delivered food for a few days — “It was far too cold; the wind was unbearable.”
Meanwhile, Zhuang, another post-90s bachelor, went to a big city after graduating from vocational school. He worked in factories, waited tables and delivered food. After drifting around for a while, he returned to rural Hubei this April and now does equipment maintenance in a nearby town, earning less than 4,000 RMB a month.
... at 45, he has still never had a girlfriend. “It’s embarrassing to admit… In the past I was afraid of what people might say and how it would knock my confidence. Now, I don’t really care anymore.” — Lee, a bachelor who hails from Jiangsu
Stocky and decent-looking, Zhuang once had a colleague at the factory introduce him to a woman with a disability to her leg. “I’d already accepted her, yet even someone with a disability wouldn’t consider me,” he said resentfully.
Lee, who hails from Jiangsu, left home to work even before finishing middle school. He worked on construction sites until the age of 26, then spent more than ten years as a trishaw driver. He now runs an unlicensed taxi service in a nearby county. In previous years he could still earn a few thousand RMB a month, but this year “business has been especially bad”.
When he meets a suitable woman, Lee would sometimes go up and “say a few words”. But at 45, he has still never had a girlfriend. “It’s embarrassing to admit… In the past I was afraid of what people might say and how it would knock my confidence. Now, I don’t really care anymore.”
... after 2000, China’s sex ratio at birth rose to 100:120 — meaning that for every 100 girls born, 120 boys were born. In provinces such as Jiangxi, Anhui and Fujian, the ratio has reached as high as 100:160, making them the “epicentre” of the bachelor crisis. — Yi Fuxian, a Chinese demographer and the author of Big Country with an Empty Nest (《大国空巢》)
Chinese demographer Yi Fuxian, who is currently a senior scientist in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, told Lianhe Zaobao that while the phenomenon of involuntary bachelors has always existed in Chinese history, it gradually developed into a “bachelor crisis” after the implementation of the one-child policy in the 1980s.
Author of Big Country with an Empty Nest (《大国空巢》), Yi has long tracked data on unmarried men across China, down to individual counties and cities. He noted that after 2000, China’s sex ratio at birth rose to 100:120 — meaning that for every 100 girls born, 120 boys were born. In provinces such as Jiangxi, Anhui and Fujian, the ratio has reached as high as 100:160, making them the “epicentre” of the bachelor crisis.
Men pushed out of marriage market
Zhan Shaohua, an associate professor of sociology at the School of Social Sciences at the Nanyang Technological University (NTU) in Singapore who has long studied rural issues in China, pointed out that the issue of bachelors in China has worsened over the past 15 years, and might become even more severe in the future.
Zhan noted that the current situation of surplus men in rural areas is influenced by individual factors such as education level, employment status, personality and so on, and is also closely linked as well to broader social and structural issues.
... women typically look for men with higher socioeconomic status to achieve upward mobility — rural men, who are at the bottom of the marriage market, are thus crowded out and subjected to singlehood. — Associate Professor Zhan Shaohua, School of Social Sciences, NTU
For one thing, the gender imbalance means that even if all Chinese women were to marry, some men would still be unable to find partners. Moreover, the longstanding “gradient pattern” in the marriage market also creates a “crowding-out effect” on rural men. He explained that women typically look for men with higher socioeconomic status to achieve upward mobility — rural men, who are at the bottom of the marriage market, are thus crowded out and subjected to singlehood.
“Coupled with the gender imbalance, this crowding-out effect is further amplified, leading to an increasing number of older unmarried men in rural areas”.
From a national development perspective, Zhan pointed out that the urban-rural gap in China persists, with job opportunities and resources concentrated in the cities. In order to earn money, rural residents must work in the cities. Owning a home is a basic requirement for getting married and settling in a city — for the low-income rural community, “the pressure is quite significant”.
Additionally, the high bride prices, urban living costs and children’s education expenses are heavy burdens. Zhan commented: “Many rural elders continue to work to earn cash income for the purpose of helping their sons get married”.
“I can’t measure up to those who are married, but they can’t measure up to me either. As long as I live happily, that’s enough”. — Lee
Many choose to ‘lie flat’
After repeated setbacks in the marriage market, many single rural men have chosen to “lie flat”, no longer actively seeking partners. Some have turned to comforting themselves and “reconciling” with a single life.
At 45, Lee lost interest in other pursuits after giving up on finding a wife. When asked what he cares about, he replied without hesitation: “Nothing; just whether I will be able to have a full meal next.”
Sometimes, he compares himself to his married peers. “I can’t measure up to those who are married, but they can’t measure up to me either. As long as I live happily, that’s enough”.
Five years ago, Liao exhausted his savings to buy a 99-square-metre apartment in the city near his village. During renovations, he deliberately furnished all three bedrooms with beds. “Just in case I meet someone suitable for marriage, we have those rooms for use.”
Sitting on his sofa while being interviewed, Liao gazed at his empty living room and admitted he had completely given up on marriage. “Living alone is quite comfortable. If I have enough to eat, the whole family doesn’t go hungry”.
As for how things would be during his old age, Liao does not expect to live luxuriously. “The state definitely won’t let me starve…as a five-guarantees recipient, I should at least get some rice each month, right?”
... since the 1970s, the proportion of welfare recipients in China has only been 3% to 3.5%. If a large number of single people are included, it would significantly exceed the existing support range, posing a substantial burden on national finances. — Zhan
The “five guarantees” system is a social assistance programme implemented in China since the 1950s, providing support for rural elderly people who have no ability to work, no income and no children to support them. It covers food, clothing, housing, medical care and burial expenses.
When interviewed, Zhan said the current group of unmarried rural men in China will likely be included in the “five guarantees” support umbrella in the future. However, he also cautioned that since the 1970s, the proportion of welfare recipients in China has only been 3% to 3.5%. If a large number of single people are included, it would significantly exceed the existing support range, posing a substantial burden on national finances.
Of social security, consumption and domestic demand
Yi felt that the bachelor crisis has a larger impact on the nation. He pointed out that married men need to take on family responsibilities, leading to high labour participation rates and motivation, while single men only need to support themselves and thus lack the motivation for sustained effort.
Furthermore, a large single population poses challenges to social security and the social credit system. The issue of insufficient domestic demand in China’s economy at present is also to an extent related to the bachelor crisis. Many families save money for dowries and wedding houses, which suppresses consumption while also driving up housing prices.
As for how to alleviate the bachelor crisis, Yi conceded that there is no effective solution currently. “Decades of persistent issues cannot be magically fixed with a simple remedy. The shortage of millions of girls cannot be magically resolved”.
Zhan also agreed that there are relatively few effective measures in the short term. One possible direction is to lower the cost of living and education in cities so that more people can settle there. At the same time, the accelerated urban-rural population flow also means that it is more difficult to find partners. If the authorities can provide a legitimate and affordable matchmaking platform, it would help alleviate some difficulties faced by some when it comes to finding a partner.
However, he stressed that due to the persistent gender imbalance issue, no measure can fundamentally resolve the problem.
Zhan stated that “development needs to be more balanced; not just focused on the big cities but also investing resources into smaller cities as well as rural areas. Only when the urban-rural disparity is reduced will the gap in marriage choices not be as significant”.
Marriage precondition: committing time and money to a house
The obstacles rural Chinese men face in getting married are varied and might be beyond the imagination of city dwellers. Li Hongxing vividly remembers that on 9 August 2025, he finally paid off his last car loan instalment.
From 2022 to 2025, he spent three years paying off a 55,900 RMB loan, making him one of the last in his village to own a car.
Before that, it took him nearly 30 years to demolish his grandfather’s mud-brick house, build a concrete house and pay off all his debts.
In rural China, building a new house is typically a “basic requirement” for marriage. Li’s unremarkable single-story house in the village is the culmination of years of effort — barely allowing him to even begin to consider marriage.
“Life is really tough for people at the bottom in rural areas…without family wealth, if parents don’t work hard, the children would have to. Don’t you agree?” — Li Hongxing, a 48-year-old bachelor
After graduating from junior high school in 1993, Li and his father borrowed money to begin the construction project. Over the next 20 years, the house underwent all sorts of repairs and renovations, with a major overhaul in 2017. All debts were finally cleared by the end of 2021.
During those years, Li farmed at home and also sold agricultural complementary products in town, as well as working odd jobs at nearby factories. He changed factories frequently, “never working at one place for long”, and he developed rheumatism as he was soaked due to years of working in rice paddy fields.
Sitting in the kitchen he built, Li said while eating: “Life is really tough for people at the bottom in rural areas…without family wealth, if parents don’t work hard, the children would have to. Don’t you agree?”
After acquiring a house and car, Li attempted two relationships with rural women in their 40s, but both asked him to buy them gold jewellery less than a month into the relationship.
At this point, Li paused, head down as he took a bite, before asking me: “Have you seen the price of gold in recent years?”
Ever since then, he concluded: “If you don’t have money, it’s best not to get involved in romantic relationships”.
Although he still hopes to find a partner, Li said for him it is more important now to have something to do and take good care of his elderly parents, “and make sure there’s food on the table for the family”.
On the morning of the interview, Li’s mother made breakfast before retreating to another room to rest.
After the interview, she took out 20 or 30 eggs, packed them in a plastic bag and insisted on giving them to me. I could do nothing to refuse her.
This article was first published in Lianhe Zaobao as “千万光棍在农村 一颗真心也难求”.
