China’s Phone Checks & Arbitrary Arrests: National Security Law Kills Tourism!

Warning. Don't go to China. Police can check anyone's phone anytime. You could be detained at any moment. Chinese think the world is China's vassal. Mock Singapore as just a small province. China's wolf warriors trigger. Growing worldwide backlash. Warning. Poisonous Chinese products in your home. Containing carcinogens, Chinese goods. Infiltrate, disrupt markets, and cause global harm. China plants fields of stones. Stuck to rebars to generate GDP. Bizarre, corruption-disguised projects. Flood the country while people struggle to survive. Rent a girlfriend. Service booms. As odd, rent-a-person trend floods Chinese platforms. Happy Lunar New Year from the Decoding China team. Wishing you prosperity in the year of the horse. Warning. Don't go to China. Police can check anyone's phone anytime. You could be detained at any moment. The CCP's increasingly extreme security policies have left both domestic and international travelers deeply uneasy, which also explains why foreign investment and expatriates have been rapidly leaving China in recent years. While passing through Chinese customs, a traveler from Hong Kong was ordered to unlock his phone at the inspection counter. There was little explanation. The instruction was simple. Open it. The chat history in his WeChat group was scrolled through in front of him. Multiple reports indicate that spot checks of phones and laptops belonging to inbound travelers at entry points such as Shenzhen and Shanghai now occur routinely. This no longer appears to be an isolated occurrence. It suggests a control mechanism that is becoming more visible and more normalized. China's Ministry of State Security announced new regulations, effective July 1, 2024, granting law enforcement the authority to inspect electronic devices in cases involving national security. In China, it is not uncommon for administrative measures to precede legislation, with laws later codifying what has already been implemented. When discretionary power expands without equally transparent oversight, it becomes difficult for individuals to know where the boundary lies. At the same time, China revised its anti-espionage law, significantly broadening both definitions and enforcement powers. National security authorities may conduct searches, seize property, question individuals, and impose travel restrictions. The definition of espionage and threats to national security is expansive. Posting comments about Taiwan or Hong Kong on social media, photographing locations deemed sensitive, discussing politically sensitive topics, or conducting interviews without official permission may all fall under scrutiny. When legislation does not clearly delineate the line between lawful behavior and criminal conduct, individuals cannot be certain when they may have crossed it. Parallel to the legal expansion is a public reporting incentive system. State media have cited rewards ranging from $100,000 to $500,000 when approximately $14,000 to $70,000 for providing leads on espionage activities. On Chinese social media, the phrase walking 500,000 has emerged to describe individuals who could be reported in exchange for a reward. Official propaganda videos warn that spies can disguise themselves as anyone. Taxi drivers, delivery workers, building managers, and parking attendants, people who interact with the public daily, are portrayed as part of a vast defense network. When everyday interactions are reframed through suspicion, society begins to operate in a state of constant vigilance. Concrete cases have deepened these concerns. Taiwanese activist Lee Hengli was detained and later sentenced on national security-related charges. After returning to Taiwan, he publicly described interrogations and ideological reform programs during his imprisonment. A senior executive of Japanese pharmaceutical company Astellas was detained under suspicion of violating the anti-espionage law. Despite diplomatic protests from Tokyo, the legal process proceeded under Chinese jurisdiction. The editor-in-chief of a Taiwanese publishing house disappeared after traveling to the mainland and was later confirmed to be under investigation for alleged secession-related offenses. These are not theoretical scenarios. They are documented precedents. The repercussions extend beyond China's borders. The U.S. State Department maintains a Level 3 travel advisory for mainland China, warning of the risk of arbitrary detention and limited access to consular services. The Australian government advises its citizens to exercise a high degree of caution, citing broadly defined national security laws. Although flight numbers between China and the United States have risen compared to the pandemic period, foreign visitor levels remain far below pre-2019 figures. Japan has seen a strong rebound in inbound tourism, while Japanese travel to China remains relatively restrained. When legal risks are difficult to predict, caution becomes a rational response. In Taiwan, national security officials have repeatedly urged citizens to be cautious when traveling to the mainland, particularly regarding the possibility that phones may be inspected at entry or exit points. Business people, journalists, and activists are advised to carefully assess potential risks before traveling. Every country has the right to safeguard its national security. Yet when that safeguarding extends into personal devices, private messages, and routine conversations, the signal sent goes beyond counterespionage. It creates an environment in which individuals begin to regulate themselves before any authority intervenes. The most effective system of control is not necessarily the one that arrests the most people. It is the one that convinces people to fall silent before they are ever asked to unlock their phones. Chinese think the world is China's vassal, mock Singapore as just a small province. China's wolf warriors trigger, growing worldwide backlash. Under the CCP's brainwashing propaganda, toxic party culture, and the great firewall of internet censorship, many Chinese people have come to believe their country is the world's superpower. When they encounter modern, civilized societies, they are shocked and unable to accept the reality. A wave of videos criticizing Singapore has recently surfaced on Chinese social media, filled with complaints and sharp remarks. In these viral clips, Singapore is described as the most nitpicking country in the world. Many netizens emphasize its strict regulations, fines for chewing gum, bans on smoking in many public areas, penalties for littering, spitting, or eating on public transport. Some exaggerate that even minor infractions can result in fines of thousands of Singapore dollars. Beyond legal strictness, critics mock what they call chaotic traffic. The presence of older gasoline-powered cars, the relatively small number of electric vehicles, and even the continued use of diesel engines. Some derisively refer to Singapore as a poor county, pointing to its small size and suggesting that its image of development is merely cosmetic. The criticism does not stop at daily life. A segment of nationalist voices has framed the issue politically. They note that more than 90 percent of Singapore's population is ethnically Chinese and argue that, from a national or historical perspective, Singapore should eventually return. In some online discussions, Singapore is grouped together with Taiwan in speculative narratives of future reunification. Whenever Singapore makes statements not fully aligned with Beijing's positions, it is labeled by some as a pawn of the United States. Yet, when examined through data and international indicators, a very different picture emerges. According to Gallup's 2023 Global Law and Order Index, Singapore ranks first worldwide in public safety and confidence in the rule of law. In 2025, its GDP per capita reached approximately 90,000 US dollars, among the highest in the world and the highest in Asia. Singapore is widely recognized as a major international financial center, hosting regional headquarters for multinational corporations across banking, insurance, trade, and technology. China has been Singapore's largest trading partner since 2013, accounting for over 12 percent of its total merchandise trade. Meanwhile, trade between Singapore and the United States remains substantial, totaling tens of billions of dollars annually. The United States is Singapore's largest foreign investor, while Singapore ranks among the top Asian investors in the US. Why, then, does the wave of criticism persist despite these figures? Some observers suggest that the intensity of the reaction partly reflects internal pressures within Chinese society. When Singapore is criticized for being overly competitive, it raises questions about the intense social pressures many people face at home. When its strict legal enforcement is attacked, some ask whether inconsistent rule enforcement domestically deserves equal scrutiny. Social media amplifies emotion. A single story about a fine can trigger thousands of angry responses within hours. Observers note that differences in behavior and attitude between Chinese Singaporeans and mainland Chinese stem from their distinct social environments, education, and governance. The country values civic etiquette, rule of law, and social order. Balancing personal freedom with social responsibility, its government emphasizes education, ethics, and character development while protecting individual rights under a genuine rule of law. By contrast, under the Chinese Communist Party, traditional culture has been deeply politicized. Ideological campaigns such as the core socialist values are used to shape public thought. Freedom of belief and individual rights are limited, while social behavior is guided by propaganda. Analysts say that Chinese society today shows greater obedience to authority than voluntary civic virtue, a major departure from the Confucian principle of propriety and moral restraint. In Singapore, the law is the foundation of governance. The judiciary operates independently, free from political interference. Everyone, from officials to ordinary citizens, is equal before the law. In China, however, judicial independence is weak. Courts often follow party directives, and laws serve regime stability more than citizens' rights, eroding public trust. Politically, Singapore operates a parliamentary system with transparency and public accountability. Citizens have a degree of participation and oversight, and authority stems from efficiency, not ideology. China, meanwhile, is ruled by a single party that tightly controls social and political life. Dissenting voices and independent thought are restricted. For centuries, China prided itself as a land of propriety, guided by Confucian ethics, cultivating oneself, managing one's family, governing the nation, and bringing peace to the world. But after 1949, when the CCP took power, that moral foundation was overturned. In its place grew power worship and utilitarianism. The wolf-warrior propaganda promoted aggression as patriotism and humility as weakness, distorting nationalism into hostility. As a result, the once gentle image of the Chinese has been replaced by scenes of rudeness abroad, cutting queues at airports, shouting in public, damaging relics, or labeling critics as anti-China. The CCP's culture of struggle has institutionalized rudeness, from diplomats making obscene gestures online to censorship that promotes hostility and discourages reason. Even civic behavior has deteriorated, with declining empathy and social trust after decades of ideological control. Some hotels and tourist attractions now display signs in Chinese, please do not be loud, please do not spit. Experts note this is not the decline of a people, but the failure of a system to cultivate moral character. Warning, poisonous Chinese products in your home, containing carcinogens, Chinese goods, infiltrate, disrupt markets, and cause global harm. A blogger issued a stark warning. Can you believe this? At a hospital in Guangdong, a one-year-old girl was diagnosed with leukemia. Normally, most leukemia patients have a family history of the disease. But her parents stated clearly, no one in their extended family had ever suffered from leukemia. After multiple rounds of examinations, doctors began tracing environmental factors in the child's daily life. They discovered that the family had been using cheap imitation porcelain bowls to feed her. Laboratory tests showed that formaldehyde levels exceeded safety standards by 77 times, and melamine by 24 times. This is not an isolated incident. In recent years, the Chinese market has been flooded with imitation porcelain tableware, plastic toys, children's shoes, strollers, diapers, and countless products labeled for children. Independent inspections have revealed that many of these products contain phthalates, lead, cadmium, melamine, and other chemicals far exceeding safety limits, sometimes by dozens or even hundreds of times. One sample of children's shoes exceeded national phthalate standards by nearly 500 times. A stroller model exceeded allowable levels more than threefold. Cheap jewelry exported overseas was found to contain heavy metals 10 to 700 times above safety thresholds. In Wuhan, a nine-year-old girl played with crystal clay, a toy marketed as creative and harmless. The borax in the product got into her eye and corroded her cornea, leaving her vision at only 0.06. In multiple cities, stink bombs and explosive bags shaped like grenades are openly sold near elementary schools. According to market regulators in Guangzhou, the sulfur dioxide produced by these toys is an acute toxin. High concentrations can cause severe damage to the respiratory and nervous systems. Even more disturbing is how these products are made. Investigative reporters documented small workshops collecting expired diapers and factory rejects, sometimes even used diapers, sorting them crudely, repackaging them, and selling them online. Flies swarmed the facilities. Workers admitted they would never allow their own children to use these products. Yet on e-commerce platforms, the same items were advertised as premium quality at factory direct prices. The next link in the chain is ultra-low-cost e-commerce. In 2024, China's dominance over South Korea's cross-border retail market intensified significantly. China accounted for a record 63.4 percent of the country's 7.6 trillion won in overseas purchases, leaving the United States far behind. The aggressive expansion of platforms like AliExpress and Temu, often criticized for disrupting local markets with ultra-low pricing strategies, saw their combined monthly active users surge to over 16 million, effectively reaching one-third of the entire South Korean population. However, when Seoul authorities inspected 31 children's and household products sold through these platforms, eight were found to contain toxic substances exceeding safety limits. Among 404 pieces of cheap jewelry tested, 96 contained cadmium and lead above acceptable levels. Low prices do not appear out of thin air. They are achieved by cutting costs somewhere. And safety is often the first casualty. Alongside this is what many parents now call the parenting trap. Children's instant noodles, children's soy sauce, children's toothpaste, children's body wash. Add the word children and the price doubles. Advertisements promise no additives and extra nutrients. Parents wanting the very best for their kids willingly pay. Yet professional testing has shown that many so-called child-safe products are actually lower in quality than their adult counterparts. Flavor enhancers and additives are used to make the products more appealing to children. When a child says it tastes good, parents continue buying. The trust lies in the label and in the belief that the system enforces standards. When both unbranded goods and established brands show systemic problems, the issue is no longer consumer choice. The issue is the system itself. Under the rule of the Chinese Communist Party, the law is subordinate to political power. Regulatory agencies answer to the same administrative hierarchy they are supposed to supervise. Independent journalism is restricted and civil society is tightly controlled. Misconduct is not an exception. It becomes a method of operation. Under the corrupt rule of the CCP, the highest priority is not the protection of children or public health, but the preservation of political control. Enormous resources are poured into security, censorship, and social surveillance. Meanwhile, consumer safety in food, household goods, and children's products becomes secondary. Such an environment encourages deception. Make money quickly, sell quickly, exit before consequences arrive. Violations are addressed only when they trigger public outrage. Otherwise, they are ignored or quietly settled. This is the root of the problem. Toxic products do not remain within national borders. They are packaged, exported, and sold globally under the label of cheap. As long as that corrupt governing structure remains intact, cheap bowls, shoes, toys, and diapers will continue to pose real dangers. Not abstract risks, but tangible threats to the entire world. China plants fields of stones, stuck to rebars to generate GDP. Bizarre, corruption-disguised projects flood the country while people struggle to survive. Let me show you. These are the stones that were planted at the secret Zhongnan Tourism Resort. They are real stones, not foam props. When you knock on them, they produce a hard, metallic sound. Some sound distinctly different from natural rock. Because inside, there is iron. Each stone has been drilled through, threaded onto steel rebar, and firmly embedded into the ground, covering a vast area. From a distance, it looks like an impressive large-scale art installation. Up close, it feels deliberately constructed. People immediately began asking, why plant stones? For what purpose? Some speculated it was meant to deceive satellite inspections and inflate land-use data. Others insisted it was simply a sculptural landscape. But when similar phenomena keep appearing across the country, the issue is no longer about aesthetics alone. In one impoverished county, a 17-meter tall statue of the cow herd and weaver girl cost 7.15 million yuan, roughly 346 times the average annual income of a local resident. When journalists asked whether the funds had been transparently allocated, officials responded with repeated, I don't know, and I'm not sure. One even shouted at reporters to leave. Elsewhere, statues of gods are effectively custom-built, according to demand. Gods of wealth, academic success, marriage, even a car god holding a steering wheel to bless drivers with safety. Worshippers can choose the deity they prefer. Faith becomes a product. Divinity is reduced to a market commodity. From giant fiberglass cabbages symbolizing wealth, to observation towers mocked as five giant nails driven into Beijing's dragon vein, to European-style bridges replacing traditional Chinese architecture. These are not isolated incidents. They are widespread. If one or two projects were controversial, they might be dismissed as poor design choices. But when distortion becomes normalized, when the grotesque is legitimized through administrative power, it ceases to be error. It becomes a pattern. These projects do not appear spontaneously. They are approved. They receive public funding. They are protected by authority. And behind every large construction project lies a substantial flow of money. On the surface, this is a story about public funds and potential vested interests. At a deeper level, however, it reflects something more troubling, the inversion of standards. Public art is traditionally expected to elevate the human spirit and embody values such as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and integrity. Instead, an increasing number of public works are criticized as vulgar, exaggerated, or aesthetically distorted. When such imagery becomes commonplace in public space, society gradually adapts to the distortion. Initial discomfort turns into indifference. Indifference turns into acceptance. Acceptance turns into normalization. From a perspective, this is not accidental. When aesthetic standards are lowered, when divine imagery is commercialized, when traditional culture is replaced with hollow symbolism, the moral foundation of society weakens. A society that loses clear moral reference points becomes easier to steer. When people no longer react strongly to distortion, they are less likely to react strongly to injustice. When reverence for the sacred erodes, so too does reverence for truth and moral principle. And that is the central issue. According to this line of critique, moral degradation is not merely a cultural byproduct. It creates an environment conducive to centralized control. When citizens no longer rely on enduring moral standards to judge right and wrong, they increasingly depend on definitions imposed by the system itself. In a society where distortion is legalized by authority and vulgarity is protected by public budgets, the boundary between right and wrong no longer rests in ethical tradition. It rests in the will of those in power. From this critical viewpoint, when traditional moral values are systematically blurred, society becomes more manageable. And that, it is argued, ultimately helps the CCP consolidate power and sustain its rule. Rent-a-girlfriend, service booms, as odd, rent-a-person trend floods Chinese platforms. Every lunar new year, young people in China once again face intense pressure from their parents about marriage. In this context, a phenomenon that is no longer new, but increasingly open and commercialized, has surged across social media platforms. Renting someone to take home for the holidays. Numerous women post promotional videos offering to pose as girlfriends and accompany clients home to meet their families during the new year. The pricing is laid out with startling clarity. Holding hands costs 50 yuan, about 7 US dollars. A peck on the cheek is 100 yuan, about 14 US dollars. Meeting the parents and addressing them as mom and dad costs 500 yuan, about 72 US dollars. During peak holiday demand, rental prices can reach 2,000 to 2,500 yuan per day. Some claim they can earn tens of thousands of yuan in just half a month over the new year period. There is even an app called Rent Me, where users can rent out their time in various roles. Boyfriend, girlfriend, bridesmaid, or even temporary life actors, advertised with polished and professional descriptions. Behind the seemingly light-hearted videos lies a shadow market operating with surprising structure. Clients can specify details about the rented girlfriend, age, personality, education level, occupation, and family background. Before traveling, both parties carefully coordinate a script. How they met, how long they have been together, what jobs they hold, and their plans for the future. Everything is designed to stage a convincing performance in front of parents and relatives. Yet the darker side of this market is substantial. In some cases, rented girlfriends are expected to share a room while staying in remote rural areas. Several women have openly declined such arrangements, citing safety concerns. The risk of assault or even human trafficking is not imaginary, especially when traveling to unfamiliar and isolated locations. A Chinese lawyer has warned that contracts involving the rental of a person for holiday visits violate public morals and are therefore legally invalid. This means that if financial disputes or physical harm occur, legal protection is far from guaranteed. More troubling still is the blurred boundary between renting a girlfriend and disguised prostitution. When journalists inquired about physical intimacy, some intermediaries responded ambiguously. Holding hands is acceptable. Kissing is generally not, but could be considered if the price is right. Despite these risks, the market continues to expand. Why? The answer lies in the lived reality of China's young generation. For example, Momo, 29, a graduate of a teacher's university, participates in the service as a way to supplement her income. She admits that many of her clients come from rural areas, where marriage pressure is especially intense. In one case, an unemployed man in Shandong still paid 2,500 yuan, about 360 US dollars, per day to rent a girlfriend for the new year, simply to save face. On the other side, many young men avoid real relationships because of the cost. Shan, an office worker earning less than 6,000 yuan per month, about 864 US dollars, explains that after paying 1,500 yuan in rent and utilities, around 1,000 yuan for transportation, and roughly 1,500 yuan for food, mostly takeout due to long work hours, he has almost nothing left. A single date at a modestly decent restaurant can cost 400 to 500 yuan. Three dates a month total, around 1,500 yuan. Add gifts, social obligations, and miscellaneous expenses, and by the end of the month, savings are virtually non-existent. Layered on top of financial strain is the 9-9-6 work schedule, 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week. Many young workers live in suburban areas and spend nearly two hours commuting each day. Exhausted by work, they lack both the time and emotional capacity for romance. It is not that they do not want to love, it is that they cannot afford to sustain it. In this environment, marriage becomes less a matter of emotion and more a financial equation. Bride price, housing, and a car. Expectations that often reach hundreds of thousands to millions of yuan and are taken for granted can drain the savings of three generations. As many young people bluntly put it, in the past, people married to Now, not marrying is also a way to survive. The statistics speak for themselves. The rate of first marriages in mainland China has dropped nearly 60% in the past decade. The country's birth rate ranks among the lowest in the world. Against this backdrop, renting a girlfriend to take home for the new year is no longer merely a bizarre trend. It is a symptom of a society struggling to reconcile traditional expectations with harsh economic reality. And when marriage becomes a luxury good, temporary rented relationships may simply be a short-term fix for a long-term structural dilemma that still has no clear solution. That's it for this special holiday update. We want to take a moment to thank you for your continued support over the past year. Your viewership is what keeps Decoding China running. If you value our independent analysis, please consider subscribing and hitting the notification bell. Wishing you and your family a prosperous year of the horse. Thanks for watching, and stay tuned.