[QDaily Big Survey] Where Does College Students' Money Go? We Have at Least 39 Answers

More than 50 face-to-face interviews and nearly 2,000 online survey responses — we try to give you a few clues for understanding a group that is clearly already very important.

Editor's note: QDaily is about to launch a special feature built around interviews and a series of short stories. We talked face-to-face with more than 50 college students about how they spend money, how they see work and love, how they handle their own anxiety and confusion, how they use the apps on their phones, and more. All of them are current undergraduates or recent graduates, from Nanjing University, Sichuan University, South China Agricultural University, Shanghai International Studies University, Tianjin Normal University, Peking University, the University of Electronic Science and Technology of China, and elsewhere.

At the same time, we put out an online survey on the same subject, open to students at any university. Nearly 2,000 people have submitted answers so far. You can see what more people think about these "grand questions" too.

We didn't start this series to produce statistical-report data. It grew out of one plain question — "How do college students spend their money now?" — which then set off a whole chain of further curiosity. The first piece you'll read here is an attempt to answer that question, or more precisely, to let the interviewees' own answers express a few views. It doesn't claim to be broadly representative, but it is enough to show something. We welcome your feedback.

"I think it's fine to ask my family for an iPad, but I'd feel embarrassed asking for something like a Big Bang concert." Susie, a senior economics student at Sichuan University who graduated a few days ago, has her own rules about which money to ask her family for and which money she should earn, or save, herself.

In fact, while each of these four years of college life adds up to a "muddled account," every one of these students has still set some rules for spending. Those rules may explain why, in a group whose appetite for spending is only just forming, some products win them over and others get ignored.

But that isn't the most important part.

Since China's higher-education reform in 1999, more than 6 million people like Susie have graduated from Chinese universities every year. Add in the students currently enrolled and the most conservative estimate is 30 million. The first figure is only slightly smaller than the entire population of Hong Kong; the second is about equal to the population of Saudi Arabia, the world's 45th most populous country (2015 data).

What these people have in common right now: they are roughly 18 to 22 years old, and they have no income. But underestimating them for that reason could be a serious mistake. Over the next few years they will become the people who lead consumption and set trends. They will buy homes, marry, have children.

Countless labels have been attached to them.

Most of their parents were born in the late 1960s or the early 1970s. Because their own upbringing was far from smooth, those parents did everything they could to give their children the best life and education. Many of these students are the first in their family to attend college, and their parents' expectations have never eased.

They grew up with the near-undivided attention of their parents and both sets of grandparents, but society has changed so fast that sometimes even their elders have no experience to pass on.

They are true post-90s kids, most of them only children. They want to make friends, but the people around them are so varied that finding their own identity isn't easy — sometimes even the way they back an idol is partly a form of self-expression.

They are also called millennials (in China, those born between 1984 and 1996). The group numbers 400 million in China, 31% of the country's population, and Goldman Sachs has called them "the most important demographic that exists on the planet right now."

Because they matter so much, plenty of reports and descriptions have piled still more labels onto them.

Forbes described them as a group "not interested in saving the universe, but eager to live in the moment" — people who don't want to be bound by the conventional idea of "success" and want to live a life of their own. Take a J. Walter Thompson survey: rather than follow the standard path, 27% of 15-to-25-year-olds said that taking a gap year to do what they wanted was a great life experience.

Film, television and entertainment let them glimpse the outside world early on. "Youku and Tudou alone carry 12,000 episodes of American TV drama, and most of the people watching are millennials." A survey by GVC Capital also found that 51% of them spend an hour a day watching video online and an hour playing games, and that they spend most of their time at home. For them, "staying in" and "gaming" stopped being negative words long ago.

Society likes to call them "spendthrifts," but financial-literacy research published by Tsinghua University last month found that 60% of post-90s college students believe "even one yuan needs managing" — and although the most they are willing to invest is under 1,000 yuan, 40% of post-90s college students have tried buying stocks or funds.

Judging by our survey, many students do this not to get rich overnight but out of curiosity and a wish to gather experience — and it doesn't hurt that it gives them one more thing to talk about with the people around them.

The way they handle money also betrays a sense of crisis. The research firm Youthology, in a report on the post-90s generation, argued that this generation entered adulthood early, especially after 2008: earthquakes, pollution, employment pressure, rising living costs and shrinking room to move up forced them to see society's risks and limits sooner than the generations before them.

Growing up, their parents told them, "Get into college, get a good education, and you'll have a good life." That formula may still have worked for their parents. By the time this group graduates, they find it stopped being true long ago, and that what they have to face is probably more.

Their monthly spending — note that this isn't only the pocket money their parents give them, but the sum of everything they spend — runs 2,000 to 3,000 yuan a month, judging by our survey at the relatively good schools. Remember the 30 million students enrolled at any one time from the start of this article? You can't simply multiply the two numbers together (this obviously isn't a median), but you can get a sense of how enormous a group of consumers sits behind them.

After talking with more than 50 students, though, we found it hard to write a tidy summary of "how college students spend money" — each of their stories is interesting in its own way. And for most students who aren't yet financially independent, how they spend matters less than their attitude toward money, and, you can imagine, what sort of view of wealth they will grow into.

Susie, from the start of this article, leaves Sichuan University on June 25. She has been to seven or eight endless farewell dinners, and around graduation her share of the meals came to about 500 yuan. She is about to start her career at Ernst & Young (later renamed EY), one of the "Big Four" accounting firms, in Shenzhen.

She told us that in Shenzhen this job normally pays about 7,500 yuan a month. If she is still there three years from now, her income will reach 10,000 yuan.

What does 10,000 yuan mean? According to the latest 2015 figures, the average monthly income in China was 4,134 yuan, so Susie would earn more than twice the average. Add their greater willingness to "invest in themselves" and they become the "mainstream group" a number of brands have their eye on. Even Maybelline, which held on to "New York" in its tagline for decades, changed it to "Being Beautiful Now" to court this group in China that likes to live in the moment.

Our own thinking keeps coming out of discoveries like this one. Now let's look at more of what they said.

The students we talked to: where did their money go?

I follow dozens of fashion bloggers on Weibo, and I look at what they wear for outfit ideas. The outfit I wore the other day came from a blogger's recommendation. I find it really useful.

— A senior at Peking University majoring in English literature, who preferred not to give her name.

I buy things in installments. I study math, so I can work out the discount rate. If it's interest-free I'll use Baitiao (JD.com's installment credit); if there's interest, I do the math first. Part of the reason I borrow is to build a credit record, because bank loans leave one — and a good credit record can help me get a business loan or buy a home later.

— A math student at Tsinghua University who thinks far ahead. He is currently on leave from school to start a business.

There isn't much I want in the first place, and if you miss it, you're unlikely to get a second chance.

— Gao Yi, a senior in the architecture department at Sichuan University. As she put it, "No amount of money can buy my happiness."

I've never once managed to save. I figure you spend what you have, and as long as it's within your means you should enjoy life… Once it's spent, it's spent — buy first, worry later… But I really hate the feeling of owing money.

— Zheng Jiayu, a senior economics major at Sichuan University.

Keeping a budget book is supposed to help you control your spending, but I've realized I'm the kind of person who buys whatever she likes. I won't force myself to keep at it, and if I see I've badly overspent in a given month, it just puts me in a bad mood.

— Tao Jiayi, a senior in mechanical engineering at Shanghai Jiao Tong University. "Not looking" may be a good strategy.

Freshman and sophomore year I spent 2,000 yuan a month; junior and senior year it became 3,000. The extra went on clothes and makeup for myself — over those last two years I bought more than 20 lipsticks. Lipstick changes my mood.

— Tao Jiayi again. She's right about that: lipstick is one of the best things to buy in a financial crisis.

Earning money really isn't easy, and you get to see all sorts of people out there. The ones who come in to get their phones fixed are uncles and aunties, people you don't click with when you try to talk to them. The work is hard, especially this kind of entry-level work, but it's also like getting a vaccination in advance — once you're really out in the world, it definitely won't be as simple and easy as being a student.

— Sun Shu, a senior math major at Sichuan University. He likes buying shoes and books, and has watched Mr. Six three times and Captain America: Civil War twice.

The biggest single thing I've spent money on in college was my driver's license, 5,000 yuan. My parents paid part of it and I covered the rest out of my own savings.

— Chao Yue, a senior physics major at Peking University, already accepted into a direct PhD program.

I'm crazy about anime, and I'll invest in it. Posters, prints, mech-design art books, fan-made doujinshi — they also put out keychains, or little notebooks with characters printed on them. These things are pretty expensive, tens to a hundred-odd yuan each. I buy them because it's a kind of attachment; I don't care whether I use them every day. When you look at them you feel, this is how I live, this is part of me.

— Zhang Xiadan, a graduating senior in the Chinese department at Sichuan University. She calls this "investing" — though the right to define any term does belong to Chinese-department students.

I keep part of my money on my bank card and part in Yu'ebao. More and more of what I pay for goes through Yu'ebao. Swiping to pay on my phone doesn't hurt, so the money slips away without my noticing — a hundred yuan can be gone in a moment.

— Xue Yan, a senior Japanese major at Shanghai International Studies University. She understood how the world works far too early.

My parents have no sense of financial planning, so I manage their bank accounts. I started using Yu'ebao in high school, but the interest is low. Now I do a lot of P2P lending — I'll have money in more than ten at once, all run from my phone. The annual return is 10% to 11%; anything above 12% and I get careful.

— Kong Qingxun, a freshman marketing major at Jinan University. Did you catch that — a freshman! May China's economy hold up until he graduates.

Looking at my Taobao bill makes me anxious. I can feel clearly that I can't afford to support myself.

— Zhang Shu, a senior architecture major at Sichuan University. She'll eat 1.5-yuan fried rice so she can afford Super Junior.

Back then online banking hadn't rolled out quick payment yet, and you had to use a security token to pay. So I handed my token to a classmate and had her take it home with her. After that there was no way for me to shop online at all, and it really did save me a lot of money. Even the money I'd usually spend on albums went unspent and piled up as savings.

— Zhang Shu again. She is hard on herself, and used what she saved on a trip to Guangzhou.

Freshman year I started with 2,000 yuan a month for living expenses, and I'd spend more than 1,000 of it on books. There were special offers every month back then, and whenever I saw one I'd buy on the spot. My first Singles' Day in college I spent more than 2,000 yuan, maybe more. I got through those days on two steamed buns dipped in soy sauce, or rice mixed with Lao Gan Ma chili sauce, plus the cafeteria's free soup.

— Guo Haochen, a senior in the journalism department at Nanjing University's School of Journalism and Communication.

The study-abroad agency charged me 52,000 yuan, nowhere near worth the price. All they did was help me pick schools and revise a few essays. The base fee was 48,000 yuan, another 5,000 for a top-30 school, and 10,000 more for a top-15 school. If I could do it again, I absolutely would not use an agency.

— Zhe Yi, a senior in environmental science and engineering at Shanghai Jiao Tong University. Get fleeced? First you need the money.

I took a year off in my sophomore year, and by 20 I'd made nearly a million yuan. I teach guys how to date at the "Bad Boys Academy." I have more than 10,000 students, each paying 1,000 yuan in tuition. I've traveled to 10 countries.

— Niss, a sophomore math major at the University of Electronic Science and Technology of China in Chengdu. He also runs an outdoor-activities company and an influencer incubator. We'll tell you what the "Bad Boys Academy" is in one of the stories coming in the next few days.

I think the money most worth spending is money you invest in yourself, and that includes investing in your education, in learning, and in how you look. I tend to spend a bit more on those. I'm fairly rational, not prone to impulse buying. I only buy something if I think it's genuinely useful, and I think through what I'll use it for first. The most expensive thing I bought in college was a bag, about 12,000 yuan, paid for with my own card, and I still use it.

— Yu Bing, a senior at Nanjing University's School of Geographic Sciences. She and her decision to buy that bag both come across as very rational.

My Engel coefficient is enormous — food is the biggest part of my spending. When I go out shopping I can eat my way from the Bund to Xujiahui: fresh-meat mooncakes on Nanjing Road, pan-fried buns, beef-stuffed fried buns, lamb skewers, xiaolongbao… One mooncake is 5 yuan, two for 8, and in a single day I'll spend at least 50 or 60 yuan on street food alone.

— Ding Yijun, a senior communications major at Shanghai Jiao Tong University. Well done, describing a glutton in such academic terms.

I don't think any spending is justified. It's all manufactured demand — fitness, for instance, that's manufactured too. I used to work out, but I gave it up, it ate too much time, I only kept it up a month or two. I need to put more of my energy into studying.

— The same Ding who reeled off that list of food. Have you really not heard that "supply side" is the fashionable term now?

I didn't start wearing makeup until senior year. My roommate came back from an internship and told me I couldn't go on like this, so I went to Etude House and bought a full set: eyebrow pencil, brow powder, mascara, eyeliner pencil, eyeliner gel, contour, highlighter, BB cream, primer, lipstick and so on. Spent seven or eight hundred yuan.

— Muki, a senior computer science major at Shanghai Jiao Tong University.

Before I buy a camera I read a lot of reviews, draw up a shortlist, go through sample photos, check model numbers and compare specs. I do a lot of research before I settle on the camera that suits me best. The peak of happiness comes somewhere between placing the order and opening the box; after that it drops off sharply.

— Muki again. On the road of materialism she is no beginner.

I've bought three bicycles in college: a Decathlon 5.1 for 1,200 yuan, a Merida Warrior for 1,500, and a secondhand Dahon P8 for 1,800. All of them have gears, and riding them around campus feels cool, sharp. But they're too expensive, so I get nervous leaving them parked downstairs.

— Muki, still.

I bought a very expensive bag before an internship at McKinsey, because on my first day I saw that every single intern came to work carrying Prada or Dior. Really. And I felt that even if I lost out in other ways, I couldn't lose out on appearances. I told my mom at the time: if I turn up with a backpack every day, that's it, I'm finished, I can't do this job. So the whole internship was basically about covering that upfront investment. When everyone around you carries Prada to work, you realize money does matter quite a lot… I picked a lower-key brand, one where people can't immediately tell what it is.

— A senior at Fudan University who preferred not to give her name. An internship can move a person's spending up a whole level.

Before I interned at L'Oréal I didn't even use facial cleanser. Then one day I looked in the mirror and noticed I'd tanned, with a huge number of little freckles, and I thought: that's it, my youth is over, I have to take this seriously… After that I sank a lot of money into it, one or two thousand yuan a month, and it kept getting out of hand. Shiseido, SK-II. A sheet mask every two or three days, and morning and night on my face every single day. Serum and face cream get replaced every month.

— The same internship-loving student.

My biggest expense in college is still electronics — phones and computers take the most. I bought my phone on JD Baitiao installments… But I do keep some sense of what I should and shouldn't buy. There's plenty I've wanted and not bought, like all kinds of Marvel merchandise, or really high-end outdoor gear — those seven-or-eight-thousand-yuan hardshell jackets — and bike parts.

— Bai Cheng'an, a senior in fluid mechanics at Peking University. A shame. So will you buy that Marvel merchandise eventually?

The most expensive thing I bought in college was probably registering for the TOEFL. Over 1,600 yuan, and once you add a few days away, the hotel and the travel both ways, one sitting comes to about 2,000 yuan.

— Wang Bolun, a senior in environmental chemistry at Nanjing University. We really want to ask: apart from studying, are there truly no other big expenses?

The way I understand money now is to buy the things you actually want. Daily necessities are obviously worth spending on. When I buy clothes the material has to be good first, pure cotton, and I don't mind about the style; there's no need to chase trends. I'd rather have something I can wear for several years, something practical… I don't pay much attention now to whether I have money, probably because what I have is already enough for me.

— Xu Jie, a senior Korean major at Shanghai International Studies University. Becoming middle class starts young.

My family lives in central Shanghai, and just outside our door my mom picked out an apartment for me without much thought. Do the math: housing is 90,000 yuan per square meter now, so a year's salary, without eating or spending a single yuan, would just about buy one square meter. Put two people's incomes together and it would still take 35 years to buy a small 70-square-meter place.

— That is what genuinely middle class looks like. Xu Jie again.

I don't take earning money all that seriously, because living in this era you won't starve and you won't freeze, and as long as you keep your energy up you won't be left with nowhere to live. You'll get by. People live in order to reach some better state they're after. Because sometimes once you reach a good state you don't need to think about money at all — the money follows you.

— An optimist who preferred not to give her name, a senior in the landscape department at Tongji University.

Last semester we suddenly realized our lives were pretty dull, that we only lived in the daytime world, and we wanted to see the nighttime one too… The international students at school took us to a lot of places, once or twice a week. I found out that for foreigners, going out at night is a perfectly normal thing to have done since childhood… We've been to some very good nightclubs, with high cover charges, the sort of place where plenty of celebrities turn up.

— Qingqing, a senior in cultural industry management at Tongji University. Here is someone who talks about clubbing in remarkably philosophical terms. What we're curious about: will that line of argument get your parents to raise your allowance?

I've realized there's no way for me to tell whether what I buy on Taobao is real or fake. To buy one piece of clothing on Taobao, with dozens of shops selling it, you might spend two hours comparing prices to save ten yuan. The time cost is very high, I think, and the shopping experience isn't good either, so I decided to buy in physical stores… And you don't go out only to shop. You can get a meal with friends while you're at it, try things on in the fitting room, and even if you're not going to buy, try on clothes you'd never normally wear and take a pile of selfies. That's what I do.

— Qingqing on Taobao.

Anything I actually want is worth the money — I want a Kindle, I want to buy clothes I like. What isn't worth it… is things like going out to eat with people I don't like, the meals you can't refuse for the sake of appearances, class dinners and so on. It's already arranged so I have to go, I don't enjoy it once I'm there, and the whole outing was unnecessary.

— Lü Bingjie, a senior Russian major at Tianjin Normal University.

Now that I earn my own money, I often buy things for my parents that they'd think unnecessary but I think matter. A while ago I wanted an air purifier, and since my family is in Hebei, where the air isn't good either, it occurred to me that my parents needed one too. If I'm using something, they should have it too; I shouldn't be the only one enjoying it. The purifier was about 1,000-odd yuan.

— This thoughtful student at Peking University studies advertising. A senior, about to graduate.

Ever since I got into rock climbing, that's where most of my money goes: climbing gear. Shoes, for instance — entry-level ones cost 300 yuan, and you have to replace them after a semester or two. I'm about to replace mine, and I'm thinking of a pair over 600 yuan next. Then there's the chalk and other things climbing uses.

— Another student who preferred not to give his name. He spends his money on his hobby. A junior in the electronics department at Peking University.

I started liking Kris Wu in 2013, watching Happy Camp. I just thought, how can someone be this good-looking, this sunny. I bought several magazines with him in them, more than 200 yuan altogether — I'd never have bought that sort of magazine before. It's not about boosting his sales figures, I just wanted to see the issue he was in. Take the last issue of Rayli I bought: the content inside was terrible, barely any interview at all, and I didn't even like the outfit in the shoot, but because he was the one photographed, I bought it.

— Qin Yi, a senior journalism major at Nanjing University. As fans go, this sounds quite restrained. Also, no idea where things stand with her now.

Working out keeps my mind and my body in good shape. Over winter and summer break, when I go home, I hire a personal trainer — 300 yuan an hour, three or four sessions a week, every other day, an hour each time. All told I've spent five or six thousand yuan. I think it works; my shape has at least improved, though I don't control my diet at all and basically still eat and drink what I like… There were times I wanted to quit, it's exhausting, and the reason I didn't is that I'd spent so much on the trainer I couldn't bear to waste it.

— Xiao Ran, a senior in dramatic literature at Tianjin Normal University. A student who already understands sunk costs.

I went to class for a month or two freshman year, then got into esports and stopped going entirely. I'd often spend the night at internet cafes. My family gives me two or three thousand yuan a month for college, and when that isn't enough I earn extra by gaming, taking orders to boost people's ranks. Gaming brings in anywhere from a few hundred to 10,000 yuan a month — 10,000 if I grind flat out for a month. It's priced by the job, roughly 400 to 500 yuan per rank tier, anything below Platinum. Gaming is my only way of making money in college, and I earn something every month; it depends on whether I feel like playing… Now I also stream when I have time. Every month I spend one or two thousand yuan at internet cafes, two or three thousand on a mouse-and-keyboard setup, and 20,000 to 30,000 on in-game skins and outfits. Yes, 20,000 to 30,000, on skins and outfits. I play League of Legends, Hearthstone and DNF too, and I've put another 10,000 to 20,000 into those.

— Pan Chen, a senior in international trade at Tianjin Normal University. A gamer.

I never used to wear makeup, but when I interned at Uniqlo in Japan I noticed that Japanese women always go out with makeup on, so I started buying cosmetics and clothes like mad. I bought cosmetics at drugstores and clothes in the department stores around Shinjuku and Shibuya. The most expensive single item was probably a bottle of Albion Skin Conditioner, five or six hundred yuan a bottle, but on small items like lip color I keep it under 200 yuan. As for what to buy and what to skip, I also go by the @cosme Best Cosmetics Awards recommendations.

— Cui Ying, a senior Japanese major at Shanghai International Studies University. Further proof of the right way to do an internship.

My mom's view is: buy it if you need it, don't if you don't. I think you should be a bit good to yourself. If I like something, I'll buy it even when other people would call it poor value, and even though buying it means tightening my belt afterward. I bought a ukulele once because I wanted to learn, and I never told my parents. I signed up for two different classes for it, priced between 300 and 1,000 yuan.

— Wang Mengfei, a senior at Tongji University's School of Medicine. The real question underneath all of this is who gets to define "need."

Note: Luo Zhen also contributed to this article.

Below are the money-related results of QDaily's college student survey:

Note: this survey was launched by QDaily on the Wenjuanxing (Sojump) platform on June 6, 2016. As of noon on June 20, 1,889 people had taken part.