Amid online fatigue and urban isolation, shared living rooms offer young people a return to face-to-face connection and emotional openness.

Would you open your living room to strangers?

For Cheng Danni, a 27-year-old in Shenzhen, Guangdong province, the answer is yes. She has transformed her 80-square-meter living room — decorated with her beloved toy collection — into an intimate social salon that regularly welcomes people she has never met before.

Cheng began hosting social gatherings in February 2024, initially moving between cafes and public spaces. It wasn't until seven months later, after she customized her current apartment, that she felt she finally had "a place where I could truly have a voice". Since then, she has organized dozens of themed meetups in her home. Most attendees were born after 1995, many after 2000.

"A family living room offers a private, cozy atmosphere where people can express themselves more openly and sincerely," Cheng said.

What Cheng is doing is part of a broader shift taking shape among young urbanites across China. Under the concept of the "shared living room", private homes — or purposefully designed spaces that feel like one — are becoming hubs for small, meaningful gatherings where people talk, listen, and connect without pressure or predefined goals.

"Weplay" is among a growing number of shared living room initiatives in Beijing.

Steven (pseudonym), 31, a co-founder of the project, said many young people in large cities cannot afford spacious homes of their own. So, in mid-2024, he and his friends rented a venue near the China World Trade Center to create what they call "a second living room for young people in Beijing".

"Our activities all revolve around the idea of a living room," said Stella (pseudonym), 29, another co-founder. "Anything you'd normally do at home — playing board games, singing, or having deep conversations — can happen here."

According to Steven, bonds at "weplay" often begin with shared interests. None of the founders are professional event planners — most run the project alongside full-time jobs. Many participants are "slash youth" as well: an insurance agent who runs Formula One fan groups, a university lecturer who leads healing workshops, or a network engineer who teaches photography.

Over time, shared living rooms like "weplay" have evolved into small "windows to the world", offering participants a chance to encounter lives beyond their usual social circles.

Stella, for example, hosts a regular workplace roundtable at "weplay" that highlights lesser-known professions — train drivers, antique collectors, hospice caregivers, and staff from international organizations. These careers, which rarely cross paths in everyday life, become tangible and relatable here.

"A good event balances relaxation with substance," Stella said. "It should be enjoyable, but also meaningful."

To date, "weplay" has welcomed over 7,000 visitors and hosted more than 500 events annually, mostly attended by people aged 25 to 35.

Offline connections

For Zhao Wei, 26, the rise of shared living rooms reflects a deeper shift among Gen Z digital natives, who are increasingly questioning the virtual nature of their online social lives.

In the summer of 2024, Zhao opened her living room in Guiyang, Guizhou province, to host sessions centered on OH Cards — a psychological tool that uses images and words to encourage reflection and self-discovery.

"Offline gatherings make it easier for people to share life experiences and develop genuine curiosity about one another," Zhao said. "The OH Cards act as a medium to facilitate natural self-expression. Often, I don't need to guide the conversation at all. Everyone helps create a welcoming atmosphere."

Zhao recalled a woman in her 30s who, during an OH Cards session, confronted unresolved childhood trauma. When asked what she would say to her younger self, the woman responded quietly, "I hate her. I don't want to say anything."

But within the group's accepting environment, she gradually came to realize that her adult self did have the strength to comfort her wounded inner child. Her perspective shifted. "If I could go back, I would hug that helpless version of myself," she finally said.

For Zhao, moments like these are what sustain the project. "I want to create a space where people feel free to explore themselves without fear of judgment," she said.

Steven shared another experience. He recalled a young woman who had just moved to Beijing and was struggling with setbacks and self-doubt. She nervously joined an English practice meetup at "weplay", gradually became a regular, and eventually began organizing her own discussion sessions focused on social relationships.

"These connections spark spontaneous interactions," Steven said."They're very different from goal-oriented social events like alumni reunions or matchmaking gatherings."

Cheng has seen similar outcomes in her own living room. Conversations there have led to interest-based groups that organize offline meals, workouts, and even sunrise hikes.

"People come here to find like-minded companions — friends they can truly share experiences with,"Cheng said.

Stella, who works in the internet industry, has also noticed declining activity on dating apps. "After a while, people get tired," she said."You interact with many people online, but you don't really know them. There's no genuine contact, and you can't even be sure the information is real."

"Big data may quickly match you with someone who seems compatible," Steven said. "But it often misses the real person behind the profile. What young people truly want today is authentic, human connection."

Fittingly, it was at "weplay" that Steven met his wife. "We weren't looking for romance," he said. "But it's exactly this casual, purpose-free interaction — the kind you'd have in a living room — that allows meaningful relationships to grow naturally."

mengwenjie@i21st.cn