Preface
In 2018, inspired by my girlfriend (now my wife), I began considering leaving Beijing and started looking for a suitable second-tier city to relocate to.
After ruling out Zhengzhou, Wuhan, and returning to our hometown, we narrowed down our choices to two cities—Chengdu and Xi’an—based on future considerations like raising children and career opportunities (distance from home wasn’t a factor, as we’d already adapted to being far from home after so many years in Beijing). So, during the National Day holiday in 2018, we planned a trip from Beijing to Xi’an first, then to Chengdu, kicking off our assessment of potential future city life.
City Evaluation
Xi’an
We only planned to stay in Xi’an for two days, visiting tourist spots like the Drum Tower. This was a shortcoming in our city evaluation, as we should have explored residential areas or the software park to get a feel for the local lifestyle and consulted real estate agents about the housing market. Perhaps we should have done some preliminary research beforehand, such as understanding the property market near Xi’an’s software park, since as tech professionals, we’d likely end up working there.
Due to the National Day holiday, the Drum Tower was crowded from morning till night. Combined with the negative preconceptions we’d formed from reading critical opinions about Xi’an on platforms like Zhihu, we ended up with a poor impression of the city.
That said, Xi’an’s noodles were delicious. We tried a bowl of biangbiang noodles at one restaurant, and it was fantastic. Since our stay in Xi’an was brief and we didn’t get a chance to check out the housing market near the software park, we left for Chengdu after just two days.
Chengdu
“Chengdu is a great place”—almost everyone who has visited or is from Chengdu says this, as it has everything for food, drinks, and entertainment. Since we wanted to explore Chengdu more thoroughly (perhaps we were already biased before comparing it with Xi’an?), we booked a hotel near the financial district and contacted a Lianjia agent in advance to show us some properties.
The properties we viewed were all in the High-Tech Zone (Gaoxin) and Tianfu New Area. At the time, we knew nothing about Chengdu’s real estate market, so as the agent drove us around, we chatted and learned a lot. For example, we learned about the concept of “tiers”: the High-Tech Zone and Tianfu New Area are Tier 1, meaning residents there can buy properties in other tiers but not vice versa (by late 2020, this was adjusted to allow High-Tech Zone residents to buy in Tianfu, but not the other way around). We also learned about district divisions like Zhonghe, Xinchuan, and Xinglong Lake, as well as basics like how the southernmost part of the High-Tech Zone is home to the Polar Ocean Park.
Our property viewings spanned from north to south, focusing mostly on “slow-selling” developments—new projects that hadn’t sold out during their initial launch and thus needed agents to help with sales. This meant the properties we saw weren’t exactly top-tier: they were either in remote locations, lacked good school districts, or were developed by small, inexperienced developers with high risks of unfinished projects or abandonment (most were pre-sale properties). The funniest moment was when a salesperson, noticing our hesitation, asked which properties we’d already seen. After I listed them, they aggressively trashed those other projects to boost their own sales, even pointing out the very reasons why those properties weren’t selling well—much to the embarrassment of the Lianjia agent standing beside us.
After getting a basic grasp of Chengdu’s property market, we also visited the Tencent Building in Chengdu, which is located very close to Alibaba’s R&D center. The entrance featured promotions for games like Honor of Kings, fitting for the development hub behind such titles, with plenty of gaming-themed elements around the building. From our prior research, we knew the Software Park nearby also housed well-known internet companies like Meituan, making the area feel more tech-centric. At the time, I was still working at Meituan, so our plan was to settle in Chengdu after a few years, possibly transferring internally within Meituan.
To buy property in Chengdu, you need a local hukou (household registration), even a collective one works. Chengdu has designated the Tianfu New Area with the ambitious goal of attracting 1 million university graduates to settle there or in the High-Tech Zone. Policies were introduced allowing those with a bachelor’s degree or higher to directly register for a collective hukou in Chengdu. The process could be initiated by following Chengdu Weihuzheng on WeChat. Back then, my wife and I had to make two trips to Chengdu to complete the registration, but by 2020, the process had been streamlined to just one visit, with the rest handled online—making it much more convenient.
I registered my hukou first, and about two months later, my girlfriend made a separate trip to complete hers. By the end of 2018, we both had collective hukou in Chengdu. Due to purchasing restrictions—like Tianfu hukou holders being unable to buy in the High-Tech Zone and vice versa—we decided she would register in the High-Tech Zone while I registered in Tianfu. However, by early 2020, the High-Tech Zone had relaxed its rules, allowing its residents to buy in Tianfu, though the reverse still wasn’t permitted. Additionally, my girlfriend planned to take the Chengdu teacher recruitment exam as a backup plan for eventually leaving Beijing.
From a topographical perspective, Chengdu is surrounded by mountains to the north, northwest, west, and southwest, leaving only the southern and southeastern directions for urban expansion. The southern area is now home to the High-Tech Zone and the newly established Tianfu New Area, which was carved out from Shuangliu District. This has led to Chengdu’s dual-center concept: the main urban area centered around places like Kuanzhai Alley, and the southern area centered around the Financial City in the High-Tech Zone and the Tianfu N Street area within the South Third Ring Road. When I mentioned to friends about house-hunting in Chengdu’s Sixth Ring Road, everyone said it was too far. In reality, living on the Sixth Ring Road and working within the Third Ring Road in Chengdu is comparable to living on Beijing’s Third Ring Road and commuting to the city center by car.
In 2020, the Chengdu government designated another new area in the east—the Eastern New Area. However, based on my interpretation, the Eastern New Area is intended for large-scale industrial parks or logistics hubs, rather than replicating a second High-Tech Zone like the Tianfu New Area. As a result, I haven’t paid much attention to it.
The Impact of Marriage on Home Purchases in Chengdu
Marriage primarily affects the loan aspect—families seem to qualify for larger loans, and for commercial loans, both spouses can contribute to repayment. You can look up specific details; we didn’t reach that stage, so we didn’t consider this issue. After settling our household registration, we simply got married and obtained the marriage certificate.
Can Beijing Housing Provident Fund Be Used in Chengdu?
Yes. Chengdu is a model emerging city with relatively advanced government services. An increasing number of administrative tasks, such as household registration, ID card processing, and housing provident fund transfers, can now be handled online. Chengdu’s housing provident fund has long been integrated into the national platform for inter-city transfers. You’ll need to initiate the application in Beijing first, then complete the transfer to Chengdu. We haven’t gone through this process ourselves, but after researching the relevant policies, it’s confirmed to be feasible.
Chengdu Home Purchase Eligibility
Finally, regarding home purchase eligibility in Chengdu—as of early 2021 when this article was written—the Chengdu municipal government’s policy requires meeting any one of the following three conditions to qualify (corresponding social insurance and household registration only allow purchases in designated restricted zones, including resale properties):
- Two years of social insurance payments
- Two years of household registration
- One year of social insurance and one year of household registration
Of course, having purchase eligibility only means you qualify to buy new properties in the designated zone. It doesn’t guarantee eligibility for lotteries or property selection when purchasing new homes. See below for detailed specifics.
House Hunting in Chengdu
Since the High-Tech Zone (Gaoxin) has relatively complete infrastructure, while Tianfu New Area is less developed (Tianfu New Area, like Xiongan New Area, is a millennium project. After calculating my lifespan’s significance in a thousand years, I decided against pioneering), we opted to buy a home in the High-Tech Zone. During the 2020 National Day holiday, when our Chengdu household registration had just reached two years, we returned to Chengdu for house hunting. Learning from our first experience, we pre-selected upcoming properties in the High-Tech Zone via the Chengdu Home Purchase Guide mini-program and spent about three days visiting sales offices. We eventually shortlisted several developments: CapitaLand Century Mansion, Vanke Park No. 5, Zhongzhou Jincheng Lakeside Phase 2, Zhongjian Jinlan, Zhongjian Tianfu Mansion, Jinyu Jincheng Mansion, and Luxiao TOD. Among these, Vanke Park No. 5 was our top choice. Below is a photo taken during our visit to its showroom—a 189 sqm entry-level luxury property:
Giving Up on Chengdu
After two years of calm and patience, I finally obtained the household registration and home purchase eligibility, only to encounter unexpected new policy changes at this very moment.
At the end of 2020,
As mentioned earlier, possessing home purchase eligibility in the corresponding restricted zones is the fundamental prerequisite. Beyond this, there are additional requirements. Below, I’ll explain the new policy that led us to abandon purchasing a home in Chengdu, illustrating how the funnel model was used to gradually exclude those of us who relocated to Chengdu for homeownership:
Home Purchase Sequence
Previously, in Chengdu, as long as you were eligible, you could participate in new property lotteries. Now, the process has changed to:
-
Apply for a Pre-Approval Code: Determines your eligibility type, divided into three categories:
- First-Time Homebuyer (No Property): Refers to households without property ownership and no property transfer records since 2016. For divorced individuals, the divorce must be over two years ago. First-time homebuyers are further divided into three tiers, prioritized in order during eligibility review (i.e., determining lottery qualification).
- Tier 1: Household registration in Chengdu for two years or more, with Chengdu social security contributions, and the social security must be in the same zone as the property being registered for the lottery (there was later controversy over whether the zone must match, but this doesn’t concern us since we have zero seconds of Chengdu social security—only company contributions count; personal contributions are invalid).
- Tier 2: Household registration in Chengdu for two years or more.
- Tier 3: Social security contributions in Chengdu for two years, or one year of social security plus one year of household registration.
- Urban Redevelopment Qualification: This is self-explanatory—everyone knows about the genius policy of monetized urban redevelopment.
- General Eligibility: Refers to those eligible to buy homes in Chengdu but not qualifying as first-time homebuyers or urban redevelopment participants, such as locals looking to upgrade to a second home.
- First-Time Homebuyer (No Property): Refers to households without property ownership and no property transfer records since 2016. For divorced individuals, the divorce must be over two years ago. First-time homebuyers are further divided into three tiers, prioritized in order during eligibility review (i.e., determining lottery qualification).
-
Register for a Property: Choose the property you want to register for. Your eligibility must align with the property’s restricted zone or an allowed purchasing zone, related to the previously mentioned “tier” concept.
-
Eligibility Review: Conducted in the order of tiers mentioned in Step 1. If all Tier 1 applicants have household registration for two years or more (e.g., one with 3 years, another with 10 years—both count as “two years or more”), they are prioritized by the duration of social security contributions. The number of applicants reviewed affects whether later applicants are considered, tied to the “first-time homebuyer priority” policy discussed below.
-
Approved Applicants Enter the Lottery Pool: If fortunate enough to pass the review, you enter the lottery pool. Once in the pool, everyone is treated equally—regardless of months of social security or household registration—with the same odds. Those who registered but failed the review cannot participate in the lottery and must wait until the end to unlock their registration eligibility, a process called “locking.” Until unlocked, you cannot join other property lotteries, requiring careful consideration of your preferred property.
-
Lottery Results and Home Selection: Winners select homes in the order of their lottery numbers. The selection typically lasts two days (though I haven’t experienced it myself). Based on articles about property selections, the process involves sequential choices, with about two minutes per decision. As the time nears, reminders like gongs and drums signal the urgency. You can inquire about the availability of your desired unit or floors—quite an interesting process. For details, search online for related introductions.
-
End of Property Selection: After the property selection process concludes, the eligibility of homebuyers who previously did not enter the lottery pool is finally unlocked. Those who did not select a property can now participate in lotteries for other developments.
Note: If you win a lottery but abandon the property selection for any reason—such as the desired floor being unavailable, finding the price too high, etc.—it will be counted as a forfeiture. Two forfeitures within a year will downgrade your eligibility to standard status.
Priority Policy for First-Time Homebuyers
At the end of 2020, the Chengdu government introduced this policy due to the consecutive emergence of highly sought-after developments with “10,000-person lotteries” (where the number of lottery participants far exceeds the available units):
The per-capita lottery success rate had dropped to single digits or even fractions of a percent, prompting criticism from the central government and a summons for officials from the Housing and Urban-Rural Development Commission. To better manage upward accountability—and incidentally fulfill the ideal of “providing shelter for all those in need”—the Chengdu government introduced new policies. One was the aforementioned pre-approval code system, and the most crucial: prioritizing home purchases for families without property. Specifically, if the number of applicants for a property exceeds three times the available units, all units will be reserved exclusively for first-time homebuyers and urban renewal households, eliminating the general buyer pool.
Before the new policy, each property development allocated a fixed number of units to urban renewal households, first-time buyers, and general applicants, with everyone entering a lottery together. This led to scenes of “10,000 people competing for 100 units” in popular developments—while the odds were astronomically low, even second-tier buyers like me still had a chance. Under the new policy, if registrations exceed three times the unit count, general applicants are disqualified, and only urban renewal households and first-time buyers remain in the lottery.
What forced me to flee Chengdu overnight by train was the graded qualification review for first-time buyers. Applicants meeting the strictest criteria (e.g., local household registration) were prioritized based on social insurance contribution duration. If the number of approved applicants at any stage surpassed three times the unit count, the review process halted, disqualifying all remaining applicants without further consideration.
The result? For highly sought-after properties, if the first-tier applicants alone exceeded the 3x threshold, second- and third-tier applicants never even made it to the lottery. This “brilliant” policy ensured that anyone who qualified for the lottery pool of a hot property had a minimum success rate of 33.3%—a flawless report card for the central government.
During the launch of Vanke Park Phase 5, some buyers leveraged their grandparents’ eligibility (grandparents often have no property under their names, having lived with their children for decades—with household registration in high-tech zones for over two years, or realistically, 20+ years—and 300 months of social insurance contributions, yes, you read that right, roughly 25 years). How could anyone compete with that? (Search Weibo: “Vanke Park Phase 5 first-time buyers”).
But I still held onto a sliver of hope, telling myself that there were so many just-tier-three applicants after all.
Due to the quality of Vanke Park No. 5, Vanke’s reputation, and the fact that Vanke’s units started at 189 square meters, I didn’t dare wait for Vanke’s opening and instead registered for the slightly less desirable Kaide Century Mansion. As expected—and yet still surprising—as a just-tier-two applicant, I didn’t make it into the lottery pool. According to Kaide’s published list of qualified entrants, the minimum social security contribution period was 67 months (if I remember correctly).
Because my eligibility was locked during Kaide’s lottery qualification review period, Vanke Park No. 5 suddenly opened for sales, with a unit price of just over 20,000 and a total price under 5 million, which was perfect for us. But with my eligibility locked, Vanke was out of reach.
Under the relentless barrage of Chengdu’s housing authority’s indiscriminate policies, we stopped considering Chengdu altogether. Occasionally, we wondered whether we should buy a place in Tianfu New Area first and move there once the area developed and infrastructure improved. But the future is unpredictable—we couldn’t foresee when Tianfu New Area would flourish or when the right time for us to leave Beijing would arrive. We could only choose to live in the present and make the optimal decision.
Reconsidering Beijing
During this cycle of “waiting for sales—registering—waiting for qualification review—failing to enter the lottery pool while eligibility remains locked,” my social security contributions in Beijing reached the five-year mark. This meant I had a new option—buying a home in Beijing.
Beijing is a fair city. Unlike Chengdu, which enforces strict policies at every turn, buying a home in Beijing is straightforward: you just need five years of social security contributions, five years of housing provident fund payments, or five years of individual tax payment records. If you want to speculate on property, you’d need to start paying social security in Beijing five years in advance—just find any company to register with on Taobao.
The reason Beijing is so “inclusive” and doesn’t impose restrictions is that property prices here are genuinely hard to speculate on. Property speculation requires tens or even hundreds of millions to buy up properties, since a single home costs 5 million+, and decent ones go for 8 million+. People who can afford such homes have options beyond Beijing. Moreover, most wealthy people in Beijing are from elsewhere—those who can buy properties in the tens of millions often own multiple homes elsewhere and aren’t the type to follow speculative trends.
Additionally, a new policy took effect on January 1, 2021, regarding Beijing’s car license plate lottery. Regular and new energy vehicle plates now prioritize families without cars, especially for new energy vehicles, with a three-year transition period. In 2021 (the first year), 60% of plates were allocated to such families, rising to 70% in the second year, 80% in the third, and eventually 100%. Not having a car for long trips is inconvenient, but whether we could win a license plate lottery wasn’t a primary factor in our decision to stay in Beijing. Still, it’s a nice bonus for quality of life.
House Hunting in Beijing
We considered two areas: Shaoyaoju and Wangjing. One reason was convenience for work (Lines 14/15 and Lines 13/10), and the other was the well-developed infrastructure, making it easier to sell in the future. As for school districts, we didn’t prioritize them—just having access to a kindergarten and elementary school was enough, as the property was mainly for our own use. After researching the policies, we learned that, aside from the college entrance exam, non-Beijing households with a work residence permit can have their children treated as Beijing residents for schooling up until the exam. However, top-tier schools naturally have stricter admission criteria, prioritizing families where both parents are Beijing residents, then those with one Beijing-resident parent, followed by Beijing collective households, and so on. Non-Beijing households are inevitably at the bottom of the list.
House Hunting in Shaoyaoju
In Shaoyaoju, there’s a residential area called Shaoyaoju Beili, which topped the 2020 list of most popular property transactions. This shows that most people, like us, want to consider both school districts and convenient transportation for commuting, while also preferring to live within the city (we refer to areas like Huilongguan, Xisanqi, and Tiantongyuan as suburbs or rural areas or urban-rural fringes, as these places lack well-known large shopping malls or leisure facilities).
The houses in Shaoyaoju are relatively old, rundown, and small, mostly built around the 1990s, with 90% being slab-style buildings—meaning walk-up apartments no taller than seven floors. Some of these are well-maintained, like the Ministry of Public Security’s family compound we visited, where there were no small ads plastered around, and the cleanliness and facilities were well-kept, not to mention the added sense of security (it’s the Ministry of Public Security!). Others, however, are worse, with issues like poor soundproofing, subpar community environments, or problems with children’s schooling. The school districts near Shaoyaoju might be particularly exclusive, implementing a policy tied to the property: even if you own the house, the名额 for children under that property is limited to roughly one every six years. In other words, if the previous owner used the house’s quota for their child’s enrollment less than six years ago, then even after selling the house, your child still wouldn’t be eligible to attend school. That said, I’m skeptical about this policy, as property deeds and school placements aren’t nationally networked or verifiable online, so enforcement might not be strict—and I suspect money could bypass the rule.
Shaoyaoju also has post-2000s tower buildings, which come with elevators, but these are more expensive. However, due to their proximity to the subway and the presence of some central-government-owned housing (or something similarly named—I can’t recall exactly), the turnover rate is relatively high, so selling them later wouldn’t be a problem.
House Hunting in Wangjing
The biggest advantage of Wangjing’s properties is the comprehensive amenities and, well, the large Korean population. Though they’re East Asians, they still count as foreigners, and given the government’s usual approach to international image, the area’s superficial efforts are well-polished. As a result, the roads, neighborhood quality, and public facilities are generally decent. That said, the Wangjing properties we can afford are also quite old. Within less than 500 meters, there are Wangjing and Futong subway stations, and it’s close to CapitaMall (mentioning CapitaMall reminds me of CapitaLand’s Century Mansion—yes, they’re the same, both under Singapore’s CapitaLand) and Solana. Additionally, we considered the abundance of companies in Wangjing, along with its vibrant dining and entertainment scene, meaning that selling the property later wouldn’t be an issue either.
Our current rent is 7,490 yuan, and it’s likely to increase in 2021. After buying a home, factoring in the housing provident fund, we could save several thousand yuan each month compared to renting. Moreover, after paying off the loan in a few years, we’d own the property outright—a great deal. We also considered that after repaying the mortgage in Beijing, we could sell the apartment and either buy a second-hand property in a tier-two city or return to our hometown to collect rental income, which would also bring in several thousand yuan per month.
Of course, the most important factor is that we genuinely like this apartment. It faces southwest and has a large window, with a reasonably practical layout. Since it’s an older property, we didn’t expect floor-to-ceiling windows or 3-meter-high ceilings—having a spacious balcony is already a plus.
Critics might argue that southwest-facing units get too much afternoon sun, that the neighborhood has too many renters and feels unsafe, or that a one-bedroom layout would be inconvenient if we have children or elderly relatives visiting. But for us, the significance is simple: we’ll have a home of our own.
The key to house-hunting is to clarify your needs and budget—buy what you can afford, preferably a cost-effective option with a lower price per square meter to minimize losses when selling later. The process itself is rather tedious: either the agent finds properties for you, or you spot a listing and ask the agent to arrange a viewing. Once you’ve settled on a place, you can negotiate the price with the owner. Since agents fear being bypassed (a practice called jump listing), the usual process is to communicate your acceptable price and terms to the agent, who then relays them to the owner. All discussions go through the agent rather than direct face-to-face contact.
Other Properties We Viewed
Aside from Wangjing and Shaoyaoju, we also looked at places near Joy City or Xuanteqi (yes, the same Xuanteqi featured in Struggle—now infamous for its high concentration of models and escorts, earning it the local rhyme “Xuanteqi, gates face west, inside live only ‘chickens’ best”). The area is central, and due to certain historical reasons, property prices are relatively low, so we considered it too. During viewings, we learned about several property types, summarized below:
-
**Purchased Public Housing (PPH)**https://baike.baidu.com/item/已购公房: Also known as reform housing or post-sale public housing, these are former publicly owned units sold to urban employees under state or local housing reform policies at cost or standard prices. Those with full ownership can trade them on the market, though some provincial PPHs require employer consent before sale. The property deed will note whether it was sold at cost, preferential, or standard price. The remarks section or property records may include terms like “housing reform sale” or “public housing sale, full ownership.” Key points:
-
PPH includes central-government-owned housing and ordinary public housing. Central-government units require employer approval for market listing, while ordinary PPHs may have clauses granting the original employer first refusal rights or sale restrictions, often detailed in the original purchase contract.
-
Downsides: Many are older buildings, which could affect loan terms, and layouts tend to be modest, often with smaller units.
-
Upsides: Prime locations, lower taxes, higher loan ratios (banks view them as stable assets), compact layouts, and better functionality per square meter at lower total prices.
-
-
Commercial Housing: Refers to properties developed by real estate development companies (individuals or foreign companies) on land leased from government authorities with usage rights of 40, 50, or 70 years, approved by relevant government departments. These properties are built for market sale or rental, including residential, commercial, and other buildings. Commercial housing is also known as “full-property-right housing.” Legally self-built, co-built, or commissioned residential or other buildings on state-owned or collectively owned allocated land for personal use do not fall under commercial housing and are categorized as “small-property-right housing.” What we typically purchase is commercial housing, including new homes and second-hand properties (existing homes).
-
Price-Capped Commercial Housing: This is a type of commercial housing with restrictions on both price and unit size (area), primarily aimed at addressing housing difficulties for middle- and low-income families. It is a temporary measure to curb high housing prices and is not the same as affordable housing. Essentially, the government restricts land usage during land sales and caps developers’ pricing to a certain ratio, controlling housing prices at the source.
-
Type I/II Affordable Housing: The affordable housing commonly referred to is Type I affordable housing, a policy-based housing arrangement under national planning. These properties are for self-occupancy only and cannot be rented, lent, or used for non-residential purposes. They can only be sold on the market after five years. Type II affordable housing includes resettlement housing, Kangju or Anju housing, and other properties managed under affordable housing policies.
-
Shared-Ownership Housing: In this model, the government and the buyer jointly fund housing construction. The contract specifies the financial contributions and respective rights and obligations for future exit procedures. Upon exit, the government repurchases the property, and the buyer can only liquidate their own equity portion, ensuring closed-loop operation of subsidized housing. Beijing has several shared-ownership housing projects, such as near Xiaomi’s technology park and Dongba. Details on land presales and upcoming projects can be found on the official website, all of which are presale properties.
Negotiation
Finally, we found a property we liked. The owner of the house we were interested in was living in Hohhot at the time. She had purchased the property in 2007 and had rented it out ever since, never living there herself. After deciding to negotiate the price, we asked the agent to contact the owner to arrange a discussion. Normally, this would be done in person, but since the owner was out of town, we opted for a video call first to gauge her interest. It would be awkward if she traveled all the way here only to face an offer of 2 million for a 5-million-yuan property with a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. The agent asked if we were okay with a video call, and we agreed.
On the day of the “negotiation” (the term feels oddly formal, as if we were discussing state affairs, but it’s the term the agent used, so we went with it), my wife and I had to work late. Instead of meeting at the Lianjia branch in Wangjing, the agent kindly drove to a Lianjia office near my workplace for the video call.
Perhaps this day stands out in my memory, or perhaps fate wanted me to remember it vividly—or maybe it’s a Truman Show situation, and I’m the center of the universe. More likely, it was just a coincidence: that day was the coldest since I arrived in Beijing. Checking the news later, I learned that January 6, 2021, was Beijing’s coldest day since 1960.
During the negotiation, four representatives from Lianjia were present: the two agents who showed us the property; one property maintainer, whose role was to manage the homeowner relationship (the homeowner was their client); and one negotiation expert, who, according to the two agents, was the store manager.
The negotiation lasted until midnight, with the focus naturally being the total price. The homeowner insisted on a final offer, stating they couldn’t go any lower because they were selling to buy two properties in Tianjin, and a lower price would make that impossible. Additionally, while the standard deposit for a home purchase is typically around 300,000 to 500,000 yuan (this amount is meant to secure the property deed with Lianjia, not paid during the negotiation), the homeowner requested an 800,000 yuan deposit due to their own purchase needs. This led to a back-and-forth negotiation, which also touched on issues like my social security status and income proof. By midnight, we still hadn’t decided whether to proceed. If we had chosen to buy, we would have needed to transfer 10,000 yuan to the homeowner on the spot as a goodwill gesture, after which Lianjia would mark the property as sold and remove the listing.
The negotiation expert from the agency was indeed the store manager, and their communication skills were clearly honed through deliberate training. My wife and I, having worked in the internet industry, thought we’d seen all sorts of deceptive, coercive, or manipulative tactics—but those were always behind a screen. Facing a skilled negotiator in person, even I needed a moment to grasp their underlying intentions. Of course, once you realize their goal, no matter how sincerely they try to befriend you or how openly they analyze the pros and cons, it all boils down to one thing: getting you to buy the house quickly so they can earn their commission.
This is understandable, and we didn’t hold it against them. However, my nature is to be wary of service providers with vested interests, so even after nearly four hours of negotiation from 8:30 PM to midnight, my wife and I unanimously decided: we needed to sleep on it. The store manager asked, “What exactly do you need to think about?” We couldn’t articulate it clearly—just that such a big decision required more consideration. The agents were visibly frustrated.
The Decision
After a night of deliberation, we decided not to proceed. The next day, we informed the agents, citing the price as too high. Surprisingly, by the afternoon, my wife had second thoughts. She felt the property was still a good fit but wanted to view more options before committing, thinking it’d be a shame to settle after seeing so few. We discussed it again that evening and ultimately leaned toward buying. I asked my wife whether her desire to buy outweighed her hesitation, and she said it did. So, I proposed a price we could accept and believed the homeowner might agree to as well. To our shock, the homeowner refused to budge unless we added another 5,000 yuan. After much deliberation, we reluctantly agreed.
The homeowner had an unusual request: while deposits typically don’t exceed 500,000 yuan, they insisted on 800,000 yuan because they needed the funds to purchase property in Tianjin. We agreed but set our own condition: delaying the online signing and down payment. We wanted to postpone payment and the mortgage as long as possible—ideally six months. However, the homeowner said six months was too long because they couldn’t delay their own final payment that much. After discussion, we settled on late April.
Another issue is the agency fee. Theoretically, it’s 2.7% of the total property price, but it can be negotiated down to 2.5%. Lianjia isn’t willing to go any lower than that. At one point, they hinted that 2.45% might be possible but required approval, which later fell through. However, they offered to compensate in other ways, such as reducing our potential financial risks. Specifically, during the drafting of the agreement, it was stipulated that in case of force majeure, we could negotiate with the seller for a full refund (usually, the 10,000 yuan deposit is non-refundable). We ultimately accepted this arrangement.
There’s no special trick here—just be thick-skinned. After all, the unit is in 10,000s.
Once confirmed, we immediately transferred a 10,000 yuan earnest deposit to the seller’s bank account. A few days later, we signed a purchase intent agreement, which outlined when to pay the 800,000 yuan, when to sign the online contract, and when to pay the agency fee. At the signing of the intent agreement, we transferred another 50,000 yuan to the seller and agreed to pay the remaining 800,000 yuan deposit within 15 days of signing. Meanwhile, the seller would hand over the property deed to Lianjia as collateral (before this, the seller and Lianjia would check whether the property had any registered household registrations. If so, a so-called compensation fee would be withheld from the full payment, which would only be released to the seller after the household registration was transferred out). By early March, we began the process of signing the online contract and used it to apply for housing provident fund loans and commercial loans. The subsequent steps—property transfer and handover—were all stipulated in the contract. More details will follow.
This entire process was handled alongside the agent. Since we paid over 100,000 yuan in agency fees, we didn’t hesitate to ask them any questions we had. Lianjia’s intermediary services are quite reliable—their processes are standardized, and they’re professional. They could explain everything clearly, from how to secure a loan to calculating the down payment and handling the property transfer. If any issues arose—for example, if it was difficult to obtain an income certificate—they would find a solution. I’ve heard that in some places, agents handle all the paperwork, including falsifying income certificates and bank statements (though these aren’t required now). You’d only need to provide the down payment, but of course, these fake documents carry risks. If you default on the loan years later, the agents won’t take responsibility—they’re only after the commission. In contrast, Beijing, being the capital, is much stricter. You must provide a genuine income certificate; otherwise, you can’t buy a property. Similarly, you must have five years of social security or tax records; otherwise, you’re ineligible.
One point worth mentioning is that intermediaries serve two purposes: connecting buyers and sellers (what’s the term for this again?) and resolving trust issues between the two parties. Therefore, when we paid the deposit, the money was first transferred to Lianjia, while the seller handed over the property deed to them (later, the bank would hold it during the loan process). Only after we paid the remaining down payment and secured the loan could we retrieve the deed from the bank.
Gathering the Deposit
There’s not much to say here—just calculate all the costs accurately and pool together whatever funds you have. Since my family contributed part of the money, I opened a Rural Commercial Bank account in Beijing to avoid cross-bank transfer fees. The deposit was transferred to Lianjia’s payment platform, called Jiajia Pay. Once the transfer was confirmed as received and under supervision, we could request the seller to hand over the property deed as collateral.
On the weekend before the deadline, we pooled our money together and went to the nearest Lianjia branch near our home. Since part of the money was in my bank account and part was in my wife’s, the Lianjia agent had to generate separate orders for each of us. We then went to a nearby Lianjia store, informed them we needed to make the payment, and used their POS machine to swipe our cards. Their POS is specifically designed for large transactions with no spending limits. Regular bank cards linked to WeChat or online banking usually have a daily transfer limit of 300,000 RMB, but Lianjia’s POS machine doesn’t have this restriction, so we could swipe directly. We made two payments for the deposit—one from my wife’s card and one from mine—and then used my wife’s card again to pay the agency fee. In less than two minutes, nearly a million RMB was gone. This was undoubtedly the largest transaction we’d ever made at that point (though the real down payment of 1.2 million RMB was still to come).
While we were gathering the deposit, the property owner (who wasn’t in Beijing) arranged for someone to accompany the Lianjia agents to the local police station to verify the household registration status, confirming that no one was registered under the property’s address. The agent also advised us to apply for a temporary residence permit in Beijing, which would likely be required for the online signing of the contract later.
Other Important Home-Buying Conditions
Work Residence Permit / Temporary Residence Permit
Note that this is a residence “permit,” not a residence “card.” Since 2021, the Social Security Bureau has gradually shifted to an online application process for residence cards and permits, issuing electronic versions. To apply, you can follow the “Beijing Residence Permit” official WeChat account, upload the required documents, and fill in your current rental address and contract details. If the rental is under only one spouse’s name, you’ll need to prove the relationship between the other spouse and the tenant—for example, by uploading a marriage certificate. Otherwise, it might be considered cohabitation without legal recognition, making it impossible to obtain the temporary residence permit. If everything checks out, the review takes about five days. A police officer will then visit for verification, take a photo with you, and upon approval, your temporary residence permit will be available the next day in the Beijing Tong app.
No Criminal Record
This is particularly important, though I can’t recall which step specifically requires it—it might be when applying for the temporary residence permit, applying for a provident fund loan, checking your points for the household registration lottery on the Social Security Bureau’s website, or even when applying for a car license plate lottery. The requirement states that you must not have any administrative or criminal penalties (e.g., detention for xx days or fines of xx RMB) within the past five years. Otherwise, your application for relevant documents might be affected. In short, avoid conflicts with idiots and make sure you don’t do anything stupid yourself.
Online Contract Signing and Down Payment
The next step was signing the online contract. We had to wait until March, when our company’s February provident fund contributions were visible in the system, before we could proceed with the online signing. Only then could we use the online contract to withdraw the provident fund and apply for a combined loan.
During this process, the Lianjia agent mentioned they needed to update an address for some reason—apparently, the neighborhood’s name had changed over time. It was previously called “Wangjing New Town” but is now known as “Wangjing West Garden, Area 4,” causing a discrepancy between the property certificate and the Housing and Urban-Rural Development Committee’s records. This step wasn’t strictly necessary, but the exact reason wasn’t clear to us.
Additionally, the online signing price on the contract is used for filing with the Housing and Construction Committee. This price determines the loan amount and serves as the basis for calculating taxes. For example, if your actual transaction price is 5 million yuan and you want a loan of 2.5 million yuan but can only afford a down payment of 2 million yuan, you could set the online signing price at 3.58 million yuan (i.e., 250 / 0.7 ≈ 3.58 million yuan, since the loan amount in the online contract cannot exceed 70% of the signing price, meaning the down payment in the contract must be at least 30% of the signing price). In this case, your taxes would be calculated based on 3.58 million yuan, while the down payment listed in the contract—3.58 million - 2.5 million = 1.08 million—is meaningless. The actual down payment follows the terms of the original transaction contract (at least, that’s what the agent told me).
This leaves significant room for maneuvering. If you want a higher down payment and a smaller loan, you can set a lower online signing price, which reduces both your loan and tax burden. Conversely, if you want a larger loan and a smaller down payment, you can raise the online signing price, increasing the tax but lowering the down payment. A quick search online reveals cases where a second-hand home’s total price is 9.9 million yuan, but the online signing price is only 3.3 million yuan—clearly to minimize taxes. The remaining 9.9 - 3.3 = 6.6 million yuan would be accounted for in the transaction contract as expenses like renovation, furniture, or appliances, which are not taxable.
The down payment amount printed on the online contract can still be negotiated with the seller before printing (see the “pitfalls” section below). At this stage, the payment due = (total down payment - already paid deposit - 100,000 yuan household registration deposit - 30,000 yuan property fee). In other words, the down payment is split into four installments: the first is the deposit already paid, the second is paid after online signing, the 100,000 yuan household registration deposit is transferred to the seller on the day of title transfer after verifying the household registration, and the 30,000 yuan property fee is paid on the day of handover. Below is the home purchase process as displayed by Lianjia:
Online signing is very simple. You just need to provide the real estate agent with your and your spouse’s household registration booklet (for collective households, you’ll need the original personal page and a copy of the household registration front page stamped with an official seal), along with signing various documents. One of these documents needs to be uploaded to the Ministry of Housing and Urban-Rural Development for filing, along with various affidavits—I can’t remember the specifics, but basically, you just sign whatever the agent asks you to sign.
It’s worth noting that if both spouses are co-investing in the property, both must sign the documents. However, the Ministry of Housing and Urban-Rural Development’s website closes at 5 PM, and it’s inconvenient to take time off work just for this. So, you can print the documents at your workplace, sign them (there’s a signing order—the person taking out the loan signs first), take a photo, and send it to your spouse. They can then print it out, sign it, take another photo, and forward it to the agent. This is perfectly acceptable—no original documents are required.
After completing the online signing, the agent will provide you with an online signing password, which will be used for the next step of withdrawing your housing provident fund. When the time comes, you’ll need to enter the contract number and password, and the property information will automatically populate.
Pitfalls
Here, we encountered a pitfall when paying the down payment. To be precise, it was caused by our over-trust in the Lianjia agent. When signing the deposit agreement to determine the timing and amount of the down payment and loan, we weren’t sure if I could provide sufficient proof of income, and my wife’s salary couldn’t cover twice the monthly mortgage payment. So, we planned to take out a smaller loan and make a higher down payment.
At the time, the Lianjia agent told us that the down payment could still be adjusted after signing the contract. Once we confirmed whether the proof of income could be issued, we could simply re-sign a down payment adjustment agreement with the landlord—it was straightforward. They advised us to write the contract with the lowest possible loan and highest possible down payment for the time being. We believed them without asking the critical question: What if the landlord refuses to adjust the down payment? We’d then be bound to the high down payment specified in the contract, but we didn’t have the funds for it.
And that’s exactly what happened. The landlord was also using our deposit to pay for their own property purchase in their hometown, so they had already committed our deposit as their own and were waiting for our down payment to proceed. As a result, they were unwilling to adjust the down payment amount in the contract.
Initially, because we weren’t sure about the proof of income, we followed the agent’s advice and took out the minimum loan. However, we explicitly told the agent to communicate to the landlord that “the down payment amount in this contract may change later depending on whether my proof of income can be issued.” But I suspect the agent never actually relayed this to the landlord.
With no other options—after all, we’d already paid an 800,000 yuan deposit—we had to scramble to gather the funds, borrowing from here and there, and then negotiate with the landlord (though there was little room for negotiation, as they also needed the money for their own property purchase and had to bargain with their seller). Eventually, we managed to scrape together the agreed amount, allowing us to proceed with printing the online contract and moving on to the next steps.
About Loans
There are three types of loans:
-
Housing Provident Fund Loan – Uses your monthly housing provident fund (typically several thousand yuan) to repay the loan. The interest rate is relatively low, around 2%, but the loan amount is limited. The quota increases by 100,000 yuan annually, with a maximum cap (60,000? I forget). In Beijing, where a decent property starts at 3–4 million yuan, this option alone isn’t sufficient.
-
Commercial Loan – A loan taken from a commercial bank (though state-owned banks also offer this service). The interest rate is higher, but the loan amount is more substantial.
-
Combined Loan – As the name suggests, it’s a mix of commercial and housing provident fund loans. The housing provident fund portion is repaid using your provident fund, while the commercial loan portion is repaid from your savings (or salary).
The essence of a mortgage loan is that your property is pledged to the bank. When you apply for a loan, you need to take your property ownership certificate to the bank and state (for example) that you need a loan of 3 million to purchase this house. The bank will hold your property certificate and, under normal circumstances, will offer you a 5% discount on the requested loan amount, meaning you can only borrow 2.85 million. With a total price of 5 million (excluding agency fees), your down payment would then be 2.15 million. After you fully repay the loan, you must obtain a loan clearance certificate from the bank to truly own your property deed. Otherwise, if you fail to repay the loan during the term, the bank has the right to auction your house—such properties are the so-called “court-auctioned homes.”
For commercial loans, the bank will require you to sign documents such as an affidavit confirming the loan is for essential housing needs, stating the funds will only be used for home purchase purposes and not for other uses. Additionally, they will ask you to fill out information in advance, such as the interest rate reset date for LPR loans, and the following:
Or below:
About Withdrawing Housing Provident Fund
I didn’t go through the company withdrawal process—perhaps it’s easier for individuals to withdraw via their employer? After some research, I found that according to the 2020 policy update on the Beijing Housing Provident Fund official website, individuals can withdraw their provident fund to purchase property, including homes within Beijing’s administrative area or in the provincial capital of their registered residence (yes, only the provincial capital—check the official guidelines for specifics).
Once the online signing is completed and you’ve obtained the online contract and password, visit this link: http://gjj.beijing.gov.cn/web/index/grwsywpt/index.html to fill in the required information. If your marriage was not registered in Beijing (i.e., you’re not a Beijing local), the system won’t be able to verify your marital status, so you’ll need to prepare your marriage certificate and upload two pages: the photo page and the issuing authority page.
Follow the steps to withdraw the entire provident fund balance to your provident fund card in one go. For the same property, both your own and your spouse’s provident fund can be withdrawn simultaneously. Just truthfully fill in your marital status and upload the marriage certificate number and other required details.
I previously saw online claims that a signed commitment letter was still required, but now it’s no longer needed on the website. After completing the information above, there will be a commitment statement below—just check the box and click submit.
After completing the application, you can request a receipt in PDF format:
You can then check the withdrawal progress within the system. The website features a very user-friendly design, and you can explore the specifics on your own.
The provident fund withdrawal system operates daily from 8:30 AM to 7:00 PM and is unavailable outside these hours. I logged in at 8:31 AM to apply for the withdrawal, and by 2:00 PM after my lunch break, my provident fund card notified me that the funds had been deposited—remarkably fast.
One important note: If one spouse has already withdrawn the provident fund through the website or their employer, the other spouse must process the withdrawal in person or through their employer for the same property contract. Online withdrawal will no longer be possible, or the submission will fail, displaying the following prompt:
For detailed operations and instructions on withdrawal, please refer to:
http://gjj.beijing.gov.cn/web/zwfw5/386727/386730/386732/676618/index.html
Since my wife’s company takes 40 days to process housing fund withdrawals, which was too long for us to wait, we decided to handle it ourselves on-site. According to the official website, any housing fund management department can handle the withdrawal, and the funds will be credited on the same day. So we went to the Haidian Housing Fund Management Department near my wife’s company. The housing fund management department is closed on weekends and operates from 9 AM to 12 PM and 1:30 PM to 5:30 PM on weekdays (literally my dream working hours 🤦🏻♂️). We went in the morning and needed to bring both parties’ ID cards and marriage certificate—just one marriage certificate is sufficient, but we brought both just in case.
Upon entering, we took a number. The lobby manager, knowing we were withdrawing funds for a home purchase, kindly reminded us to also take two forms for scheduled withdrawals, allowing us to set up automatic future withdrawals so we wouldn’t need to come every time. I asked the teller whether we needed to leave 100 yuan in the account when withdrawing since our housing fund loan (i.e., the face-to-face signing) hadn’t been disbursed yet. The teller informed us that on-site withdrawals automatically leave 10 yuan by default.
So I began processing my wife’s housing fund withdrawal, and after completing that, I started the regular withdrawal service. On-site housing fund withdrawal is incredibly fast—even faster than online processing. How fast exactly? For my online withdrawal at 8:30 AM, the funds arrived in my account around 2 PM. As for my wife’s on-site withdrawal, the balance was credited before she even left the service hall (probably just a database field update 🤪):
Face-to-Face Signing
Online signing registers the property transaction with the Housing and Urban-Rural Development Commission, followed by the face-to-face signing, which is the on-site process for handling the combined loan. On April 8, 2021, we took leave to visit the bank in person to complete the loan procedures. The landlord (an elderly couple) and the real estate agent were also present. Lianjia’s loans are processed at the Shijingshan Branch of China Merchants Bank in Lugu (as mentioned by the agent).
At the signing, it was mostly about signing documents—whatever they asked us to sign, we signed. If we had questions, we asked on the spot. However, it’s important to double-check the information while signing. For instance, I noticed that my wife’s phone number was printed incorrectly on the first document—a “5” was written as a “4.” I pointed out the mistake, and the clerk had me cross out the “4,” write a “5,” and then both my wife and I signed next to the correction.
They explained the basics of repaying the housing provident fund loan and the commercial loan during the session, and we could ask questions anytime. The housing provident fund repayment is automatically deducted every month. However, since my wife’s and my monthly provident fund contributions far exceed the required repayment amount, we needed to withdraw part of the provident fund to cover the commercial loan portion. That’s why, as mentioned in the previous section, we had to apply for the regular provident fund withdrawal service at the Housing Provident Fund Management Center, typically every three months.
Here’s a conspiracy theory I have—feel free to share insights if you know the reason. I noticed that almost all the commitments and guarantees we signed during the face-to-face session, such as the “Loan Notification Letter,” required us to handwrite “Yes” or “Confirm” (e.g., a section asking whether we were fully aware of the risks, where we had to write “Yes”) and then sign. But there was also an identical copy of these documents where we only needed to sign without writing “Yes” or “Confirm.” I quietly told my wife that this might be a way to shift liability—if something went wrong later, like us defaulting on the loan, the bank could pull out these blank commitments with our signatures and fill in “No” where “Yes” should have been. Since our signatures were already there, it would appear as if we had consented, absolving the clerk of responsibility. Since we’re unlikely to default, I didn’t press further, though the clerk simply said it was for backup purposes, and we let it go.
The essence of the loan process is that the house is pledged to the bank, which assesses its value and then transfers the money to the seller. Therefore, the landlord had to provide bank account details for receiving the loan and also hand over the property deed to the bank as collateral. After completing the housing provident fund loan, the clerk informed us that the new property deed and loan contract would be issued about 1–2 weeks after the property transfer. The loan would be disbursed to the landlord’s bank account approximately one month after the transfer. The loan contract could be mailed, but the property deed had to be collected in person. Since both our names were on the deed, we both had to bring our IDs to pick it up at the Post-Loan Service Center, located in Xicheng District. Other details were covered in a document about combined loan repayments provided by the clerk, and we could ask questions on the spot if anything was unclear.
Property Transfer
Next was the scheduled property transfer. Ours took place on April 17, 2021. According to the earlier purchase agreement, we had to transfer the down payment to Lianjia’s designated escrow account within three days before the transfer. So, on the last weekend before the transfer—April 11, 2021—we deposited the funds into Lianjia’s “Jiajia Pay” account.
The property transfer was processed at the Chaoyang District Real Estate Registration Center. The agent scheduled a queue number for us a few days in advance, so we just needed to show up on the appointed day. Our process took place in Zone A on the second floor, where a person (likely also from Lianjia) had us sign a stack of documents. Then, the seller—an elderly couple—signed their portion of the paperwork, followed by tax payment, which we covered as the buyers.
While tax payment terms are technically negotiable, the current market favors sellers, making “take it or leave it” the norm—so buyers typically foot the tax bill.
After swiping the card again to pay tens of thousands in taxes, the process was finally complete. We were then notified to wait for an SMS about an processing fee. Clicking the link to pay it, we headed downstairs to the self-service kiosk, scanned our ID cards, and printed out the property deed.
When the property deed comes with two attachments to be affixed—one being the building floor plan and the other the Beijing Property Registration Form (printed copy)—you have to stick them on yourself. My wife remarked how this self-service printing of property deeds and self-attaching of attachments must have saved quite a few government job positions…
Here’s a commemorative photo after receiving the property deed:
After completing the property transfer, the next step is to visit the household registration office at the local police station again. They will verify the household registration information to confirm that no one is registered at the property. Once confirmed, the 100,000 yuan household registration deposit will be transferred to the seller (Police station photo: the pretty police officer is checking the household registration records):
I originally thought that updating household registration would be done through computer operations—just a few clicks on the computer. However, it turned out that after handing the property deed to the police officer, they went to the area where household registrations are stored (right behind the spot in the picture) and searched through a row of cabinets for the relevant information. If found, they’d come back and say it exists; if not, they’d say it doesn’t. There wasn’t even a paper receipt, which felt like it could easily be manipulated—a huge loophole compared to a nationwide computer database or written receipts like transaction slips.
Of course, after the transfer is completed and the property deed is printed, it isn’t handed over to you immediately. The agent still needs to submit the deed to the bank for mortgage purposes, after which the bank will disburse the loan to the seller’s bank account. Later, the property deed will be stored somewhere near Xizhimen (the exact location isn’t important), and you’ll need to go pick up the deed and loan contract—that’s when you officially receive the property deed!
Property Handover
This step involves going to the property management office with the agent and the seller (an auntie) to settle things like utility bills and owner registration. It’s a straightforward process, step by step, with nothing much to say. Only after this is done will the over 30,000 RMB property deposit be transferred to the seller’s bank account, and the seller (auntie) will hand over the keys to you, marking the completion of the process! I felt relatively at ease with Lianjia during this step. Their agent didn’t try to pressure me—no comments like, “Just sign the property deposit first, and the owner will settle the rest later; let’s just follow the procedure.” Instead, they insisted on sticking to the process: all fees must be settled before the property deposit can be released, which was fair. During the fee settlement, we discovered an unpaid hot water bill of 3,740 RMB. The seller had prepaid the full year’s property fees, so we had to reimburse her for the unused portion. A check on the cold water bill revealed an unpaid 740 RMB charge from 2006. The seller said she bought the property in 2008, so it wasn’t her responsibility. The Lianjia agent reassured us, saying, “Don’t worry about such old charges,” but the 460 RMB fee from 2015 needed to be settled by her, which she did. Other fees, like cable TV, gas, and electricity, were calculated one by one. In the end, the seller owed us over 2,800 RMB, which she transferred on the spot.
Receiving the Property Deed
I initially thought I’d get the property deed before the property handover, but it turned out to be the other way around. Finally, the deed was in my hands, and at this point, there wasn’t much left to say—no more pitfalls, just routine details that aren’t worth documenting.
Renovation
Renovation involves too many things to cover here, so it deserves its own separate post. I’ve already started drafting it and look forward to recording the progress.
Future Plans
A one-bedroom apartment isn’t a long-term solution, so we plan to upgrade when the time is right. As for when? At the very least, we’ll have to wait until the mortgage on this property is fully paid off…
I asked the agent earlier about the process of upgrading. They explained that it involves two contracts: first, I’d act as Seller B and sign a sales contract with Buyer A, who would then secure a bank loan to pay me. Next, I’d act as Buyer B and sign a purchase contract with Seller C, applying for another bank loan to pay them. There’s no scenario where the bank bypasses me to directly transfer the loan from Buyer A (for buying my property) to Seller C (for the property I’m buying).
Through detailed conversation, I learned that the seller of our current property is planning to buy two properties in Tianjin—I had initially thought it was in Hohhot. Their plan is to use one property in Tianjin for their child’s schooling and another in the suburbs for their retirement. The two properties are within a 30-minute drive of each other, which seems like a solid choice.
Some friends have settled in Tianjin through the Haihe Talent Plan for educational qualification-based residency, while others who are older have also relocated there. Their goal is to work in Beijing but, lacking Beijing household registration (hukou), they cannot have their children take the college entrance exam there. Thus, they opt for Tianjin, allowing their children to take the exam there. It’s a decent alternative, and I might consider selling my current home to move there in the future.
Others have moved to Qingdao, often due to internal transfers within their companies for business operations there. It’s another good option—I’ve heard you can buy a home there with just one year of social security contributions, though I haven’t looked into the details.
Reflections
I’ve rambled on about all sorts of things here, with two purposes in mind: first, to document my own experience of buying a home, and second, to help those who haven’t yet purchased a property avoid pitfalls, understand the process better, and make informed decisions without being misled. Some might pity people like us: draining our parents’ life savings and our own hard-earned money (though I’ve never worked 996 in Beijing… hence my Weibo bio: “Atypical programmer=_=”) blessing to buy a cramped sub-60-square-meter apartment with barely any livable space. With that same money, we could have bought a 100+ square-meter home in a second- or third-tier city, had money left over, lived closer to our parents, cared for them, and taken several vacations a year to enjoy family happiness.
And they’re not wrong. Watching my parents age day by day, and now using their own earnest advice—“Everything online is a scam! Don’t believe anything on the internet!”—to warn them in reverse (“Scams are everywhere now, the tech is advanced, even phone calls and video chats can’t be trusted—only transfer money in person!”), I’ve definitely had those thoughts. But I still want to make the most of my earning potential before I turn 35, accumulating as much wealth and assets as I can. In five or six years, once the mortgage is paid off and it’s time to think about my child’s kindergarten or elementary school, I might sell the place. By then, my parents will have just retired, and we can reconsider our options. In short, I still have some time before 35, and my parents aren’t so old that they need constant care, so I’d rather focus on earning while I can.
As I said, the future is uncertain, and policies keep changing. I admire those who can cut through the noise, discern historical trends, and make optimal decisions (like catching the rise of stocks, real estate, or Bitcoin). As the saying goes, “Those who align with heaven prosper; those who defy it perish.” But ordinary folks like us—or even “small fry,” as we might be called—can only make short-term choices that serve our immediate interests. In our daze, half-asleep state (or, put another way, amid information asymmetry), we’re herded along by national policies and macro forces, like lambs to the slaughter or bundles of chives, living out our lives in anxiety, hesitation, and penny-pinching. It’s the tragedy of self-proclaimed “higher intellects,” the so-called pinnacle of creation: most are here to reproduce and pass on genes, while only a select few—the true “chosen ones”—get to shape history.
However, everyone has different pursuits. Without judging their nobility or baseness, if we focus solely on the process itself, there is no right or wrong in the act of striving. The Buddha said, “Life is a journey of cultivation.” The older I grow, the more profound this statement feels. The essence of human life lies in the journey, not the destination, for the destination is always the grave. To be born, to cry, to laugh, to love, to hate, to feel joy, to feel sorrow, to experience pride, to face despair, to envy, to sympathize, to strive, to languish, to fail, to succeed—all of this is life. I generally dislike it when young people talk about how things will be when they’re older, as such words often feel like empty lectures from those standing upstream in the river of time, looking down to educate those who come after. Or worse, they may be useless remarks squeezed out in the moment to cover up an inability to witness another’s embarrassment or to persuade them. Do what you ought to do when the time comes—live in the present.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve been revisiting Romance of the Three Kingdoms lately that I’ve gained a deeper understanding of its opening lines. I’ll leave them here at the end, for they resonate deeply—how fortunate to express one’s thoughts through verse:
The mighty Yangtze flows eastward,
Waves sweeping away heroes of yore.
Right and wrong, success and failure—all vanish in a blink.
Green mountains remain as ever,
While sunsets redden time and again.
On the riverbanks, white-haired fishermen and woodcutters,
Accustomed to autumn moons and spring breezes.
A jug of unrefined wine brings joy in reunion.
Countless tales of past and present,
All dissolve into laughter and conversation.
From the author:
I often wish that when facing some key decisions in life, someone could tell me the best course of action so that I would not waste my precious time. Putting myself in others' shoes, I therefore write blogs often, hoping to record in this tiny corner of the vast Internet the once-in-a-lifetime experiences that matter to me, and to help those who seek help.
