Over the past few years, the harsh job landscape for Chinese workers has given rise to a vivid lexicon capturing the anxiety of a generation. Phrases like “lying flat,” “involution,” and “996″ have become shorthand for the pressures and frustrations of life in the world’s second-largest economy.

The latest addition is “slash youth”—a term for young people piecing together a living through multiple part-time jobs. The “slash” reflects how many define themselves through a series of roles: writer/photographer/designer. Once a statement of creative ambition, it’s now often a matter of survival.

The growing embrace of slash work highlights deeper structural strains in China’s labor market.

The government recently reported that urban youth unemployment for 16- to 24-year-olds had fallen to 14.9% in May. But that figure now excludes college students, lowering the number on paper without meaningfully addressing the problem. Many analysts believe the true rate remains well above 20%.

A major factor behind the rise of slash work is the disconnect between China’s university system and the jobs actually available. Each year, over 12 million students graduate from college. Many aspire to work in tech, finance, or government—fields that once promised upward mobility. But these sectors are now absorbing fewer new workers, the result of property market fallout, regulatory crackdowns on private education and tech, and weak global demand. Even well-qualified graduates are struggling to find entry-level opportunities.

In this environment, many are turning to freelance or flexible jobs simply to get by. Researchers estimate that more than 80 million people in China now work as “slashers.” Most aren’t pursuing passion projects—they’re cobbling together incomes by tutoring, delivering food, livestreaming, and freelancing in digital media or service jobs. The work can be flexible, but also unstable and devoid of long-term security.

For 24-year-old Lin Yuhan, a marketing graduate from Chengdu, the past year has been a juggling act. After failing to land a full-time job through campus recruitment, she now tutors high school students, designs social media fliers, and works weekend shifts at a milk tea shop.

“I apply to full-time jobs every week, but nothing comes through,” she said. “It’s not what I imagined after graduation, but at least doing a little of everything keeps me moving forward. I don’t want to move back home unless I have no other choice.”

The trend is equally visible in smaller cities. Zhang Rui, 28, returned to his hometown in Henan after being laid off from a real estate firm in Shenzhen. He now delivers food, edits short videos for a local wedding studio, and occasionally livestreams himself repairing bicycles.

“None of these jobs by themselves is enough to live on,” he said. “But together, they pay the bills. I’ve given up looking for one stable job—I don’t think it exists anymore for people like me.”

China’s gig economy hasn’t been an easy landing zone. Many slash workers rely on algorithm-driven apps that demand fast turnaround and high availability, especially in delivery and transport services. The stress, unpredictability, and lack of labor protections have all taken a toll. Studies and investigative reports have pointed to the physical strain and mental burnout common among young gig workers.

While some still view slashing as an opportunity to explore different interests or avoid rigid office culture, most don’t see it as a choice. They are navigating a fragmented job market that no longer offers the stability their education once promised.

Beijing has acknowledged the issue and introduced measures to ease the pressure: job fairs, government-backed internships, small-business subsidies, and central bank support for credit access. But these efforts have so far failed to meaningfully reduce youth unemployment.

Economists and labor experts say the government may need to do more—investing in vocational education, improving legal protections for gig workers, and creating more job pipelines in sectors like healthcare, green energy, and advanced manufacturing.

The rise of slash youth also reflects a deeper shift in how young Chinese view their place in society. The conventional path—from university to a white-collar job, to homeownership, to family—is no longer reliable. Many are building lives through a patchwork of roles and platforms, unsure whether the future holds a permanent career or just more improvisation.

The ingenuity of these workers shouldn’t be dismissed. But their stories point to a broader unease. For now, slash work is a stopgap. Whether it becomes a bridge to new opportunity—or a sign of long-term economic fragmentation—may depend on how the state adapts to a changing world of work.

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