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Learning to Love

Amid growing skepticism toward love and romance in China’s online spaces, many young people are turning to university courses for emotional guidance and help navigating real-life relationships

By Wang Yan , Yi Ziyi , Li Jing Updated Aug.1

AI-created illustration (by CNS)

In November 2025, education vlogger Jia Ming posted short videos from a general psychology course he attended at Beijing’s Tsinghua University.  

The course, titled “Exploring the Mind,” focused on interpersonal relationships. Jia’s videos quickly went viral on platforms like Douyin, where he now has 117,000 followers. His inbox flooded with private messages from non-students asking how they could attend.
 
Professor Liu Jia, who teaches the class, has become a bit of a sensation. Securing a seat now requires arriving two hours early. Many students bring stools or sit on the floor, filling aisles and corners. Liu’s Douyin account, “Liu Jia’s Psychology,” has around 47,000 followers. 
 
This is trending at major Chinese universities, where classes on love, emotions and intimacy have become some of the most sought-after offerings. 

Courses at other top Beijing schools such as Peking University’s “Mindfulness Intervention for Emotional Distress” and the Renmin University of China’s “Philosophy of Love,” as well as “Sociological Thinking on Love” at Shanghai’s Fudan University, are quietly becoming sources of emotional guidance for young people, extending their influence far beyond campus walls.

Bad Romance 
This runs counter to Chinese social media trends, where many are dismissing romantic relationships. Content creators tout common mantras like “A wise person does not fall in love” and “Only fools rush in,” calling those who do sufferers of “love brain” (lian’ai nao). 

Yet beneath the cynicism, class attendance like Liu’s shows that many young people still long for love and connection, and are willing to do the homework. 

“These days, everyone has emotional problems, especially under pressure,” Jia, who studies engineering physics at Tsinghua, told NewsChina. “Professor Liu’s course deals with real-life issues we all face, so it’s easy to relate to.” 

Liu’s lecture hall, designed for 220 people, often holds nearly 500. Enrollment is now decided by lottery, and dropped spots disappear within seconds. “Getting in is harder than buying concert tickets,” Jia said. 

Wang Jiarui, a master’s psychology student at Tsinghua, also took the course. He said psychology is often misunderstood by the public: Some see it as motivational talk that merely repeats common sense, while others expect it to solve all their emotional problems entirely. 

“Psychology mainly helps people understand their emotions,” Wang said. “It is neither a cure-all nor shallow clichés, but a set of practical tools grounded in research.” 

A 2025 report on happiness in China, led by Tsinghua University professor Peng Kaiping, found that people born before the 1980s (Gen X and older) are happier than younger generations. Gen Z experiences the highest stress and lowest happiness, largely due to a decrease in social mobility. 

Inspired by the study, Wang’s informal survey among his Gen Z peers revealed similar patterns. Dissatisfaction often stems from relationships and constant comparison with others, leading to feelings of inadequacy, Wang’s respondents shared. 

Across China, college courses on love, intimacy and psychology have created rare spaces where students can openly discuss emotional confusion, often without judgement. They also offer both conceptual tools and emotional support for navigating relationships. 

A survey by newspaper China Youth Daily in 2023 covering 1,341 college students showed that 77.7 percent were interested in courses on love and relationships. Among them, 63.9 percent wanted to improve their communication skills, and 60.9 percent wanted guidance in emotional management and empathy. 

Since 2020, Lin Guanghua, an associate professor at the School of Chinese Classics at Renmin University, has taught a course that explores love through Chinese and Western philosophy and literature. 

Lin draws inspiration from a similar class she took in 2007 while doing her PhD at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, where Professor Tao Kwokcheung’s “Philosophy of Love” was packed with students. The class was part of a growing global trend. In 2000, Northwestern University near Chicago, US, offered “Marriage 101: Building Loving and Lasting Relationships” by professors Bill Pinsof and Art Neilsen. It is often cited as among the first undergraduate courses on relationships, and is still taught today. 

Lin, who is also the author of The Power of Love: 50 Lectures on the Philosophy of Love (2024, in Chinese only), says about one-third of students experience “cyber love,” where they form attachments to fictional characters or AI companions. She links this to a rising anxiety and distrust of real relationships, fueled by social media. 

“Before even experiencing love firsthand, many are already overwhelmed by theories, warnings and fears,” Liu told NewsChina. “Online spaces are saturated with extreme relationship stories, dating scams, insincere romantic strategies and even manipulative tactics.”

The “Exploring the Mind” course delivered by Liu Jia, a professor at Beijing-based Tsinghua University, attracts a great many university students (Short-video screenshot)

Young people attend a lecture by Lin Guanghua, an associate professor at the School of Chinese Classics at the Renmin University of China. Lin has become well-known for her course that explores love through Chinese and Western philosophy and literature (Photo Courtesy of Interviewee)

‘Love Brain’ 
Wang Jiarui organized an exercise for classmates called a “Life Auction.” Each student received a virtual budget of 100,000 yuan (around US$15,000) to bid on 16 life attributes, including health, financial freedom, social prestige, love and altruism. The minimum bid was 10,000 yuan (around US$1,500). Health turned out to be the most sought-after, followed by status and financial freedom. No one, including Wang, bid for love. 

When asked why, Wang said, “I’ll think about it when I have more free time.” Now 30, he has returned to graduate school after working for several years. He expects a relationship at his age would eventually lead to marriage, but says he is not financially secure enough, especially in an expensive city like Beijing. 

Jia Ming also had a relationship during college, but it ended because he felt the costs outweighed the benefits. “I was busy making videos and livestreaming to earn money, while my ex focused entirely on calculus. We had too few shared interests,” Jia told NewsChina. “I figured it was better to prioritize my career and get my life on track first.” 

While many students say they are too busy for relationships, young workers report exhaustion after long hours. Psychologist Lin recalled one recent graduate told her, “After a long day at work, all I want to do is lie down and do nothing.” 

Xiang Biao, director of the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology in Germany and former Oxford University professor, observes that fewer young people are pursuing committed relationships. Love is increasingly treated like an investment expected to yield returns. Many are unwilling to accept its inevitable uncertainties, effort and emotional costs. If a relationship fails to contribute to personal growth, it is merely chalked up as a loss. Those with more romantic views are mocked as suffering from “love brain.” 

“This is not only utilitarian thinking,” Xiang told NewsChina. “As local [offline] social ties erode, romance becomes a detached and optional project rather than part of everyday life. Once dating becomes a separate and deliberate task, people instinctively begin weighing its costs and benefits.” 

Older generations often formed relationships through classmates, coworkers and friend groups. Today, real-life encounters more likely begin on dating apps, while organic social ties have weakened, Xiang said. 

“Young people increasingly perceive others as one-dimensional characters[which only exist in writings, with no images], influenced by carefully curated online personas that display only polished and partial versions of the self. These idealized connections may feel romantic at first, but they are difficult to sustain,” Xiang said. 

Lin adds that fear of being hurt is central to young people’s skepticism toward love. 

“They fear entering relationships because they are overly afraid of the pain love may bring. But they rarely consider that such pain, though perhaps inevitable, can also help them grow. What matters is learning how to transform the pain of love into valuable experience, spiritual growth and life-nourishing energy,” Lin told NewsChina. 

“You cannot approach romance with pure rationality,” Lin said. “If you remove heartfelt emotion, then there is no love left at all.”

Seeking Answers 
Since publishing her book, Lin has given over a dozen public lectures. She said young attendees often ask her whether idealized love is possible in a world of modern day pressures. 

Despite the cynicism, many still turn to university courses on love and psychology in search of answers. These classes function as spaces for emotional reflection, providing young people with both the structure and language to discuss relationships. 

Driving their popularity is the absence of judgment-free spaces for young people in China to openly share their feelings, fears and relationship struggles. 

Wang Jiarui notes the contrast in some Western countries, where support groups and community organizations are offered for relationship and family issues. This kind of support is often difficult to obtain from family members and friends. 

“As I get older, I’ve realized how difficult it is to share my problems with people around me. No one can ever fully understand another person,” Wang said. 

China has fewer resources capable of offering professional and non-judgmental emotional support, Wang said. University courses on love and psychology are becoming safe spaces for young people to discuss their confusion and anxieties seriously. 

Xiang Biao sees these courses’ popularity as very positive. “It shows that young people are not simply resigning themselves from reality. Instead, they are actively trying to understand why life and relationships have become this way,” Xiang told NewsChina. 

“This trend also offers an important opportunity for educators, researchers and cultural practitioners to respond to young people’s genuine emotional and spiritual needs,” he said. 

Nevertheless, Xiang believes the practical impact of classroom learning alone is limited. 

“[Students] attempt to replace insufficient real-life experience with abstract theories. But theory can never fully compensate for a lack of lived experience. Ultimately, love is rooted in real life,” Xiang stressed. 

He argues that educators and researchers need to develop new forms of teaching, research and communication that better respond to young people’s emotional needs. Traditional classroom models that offer only rigid analysis of relationships have limited value. 

“Life cannot be understood through theory alone. It is shaped first and foremost by firsthand experience. I firmly believe that real interpersonal connection with peers is indispensable. Without it, all abstract theories about life remain detached from reality,” Xiang said.

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