According to data from Germany’s Federal Office for Migration and Refugees, BAMF, the number of Chinese nationals applying for asylum in Germany has risen steadily over the past five years.
In 2025, the figure reached 1,700, a threefold increase on 2023.
In September last year, China ranked eighth among countries of origin for asylum seekers in Germany.
Even more have sought asylum in Italy – more than 3,800 in 2025, according to data from the United Nations refugee agency, UNHCR. A further 1,500 applied for protection in Britain.
Germany’s asylum system guarantees applicants free food and accommodation, health insurance, and social integration courses. Each applicant receives a monthly allowance of about 400 euros.
That’s more generous than most other EU states, a fact that Chinese migrants have shared on social media.
On YouTube, a video posted by a 22-year-old Chinese man has garnered more than 370,000 views. In it, he recounts his journey to Germany via the Balkans, and the support he has received from the German state since applying for asylum.
What he fails to mention is the low rate of approval when it comes to Chinese asylum seekers. Of more than 2,000 applications from Chinese nationals in 2025, 56 per cent were rejected, according to BAMF data.
Zhang’s application was turned down, but he received ‘tolerated stay’ status on appeal, meaning he is not at immediate risk of deportation. After obtaining a German work permit, he found work in an e-commerce warehouse and then a food-processing factory.
“Although I entered through illegal means in the beginning, the German government provided me food and housing, and even the integration courses were free — all paid for by German taxpayers,” Zhang said. “So I must be grateful and give something back by working and paying taxes.”
Even if Zhang is turned down for asylum, he can still secure a long-term residence permit if he demonstrates he earns a stable income, pays his taxes and meets the integration requirements. Then he hopes to be reunited with his wife and children, in Germany.
Wang, however, struggled with the language barrier and the loneliness of life as the only Chinese resident of the reception centre where he was housed.
With his asylum application still under review and the prospect of waiting years to secure a long-term residence permit, Wang saved up his monthly allowance and bought a plane ticket back to China.
“Just for the residency, it didn’t feel worth it,” he said.
Such disillusionment is not uncommon; some Chinese migrants leave Germany for southern Europe and work in the grey economy within local Chinese communities, or head back to Serbia or the Middle East in hopes of earning more than the monthly allowance provided to asylum seekers in Germany.
After more precarious employment in China, Wang left again and returned to the Balkans. This time, he came across far more Chinese migrants.
He met a dozen at a bus station in Sarajevo, the Bosnian capital, en route to Bihac and nearby Velika Kladusa.
“Everyone is being very cautious, asking around for all kinds of information, forming teams and sticking together,” Wang said.
But two weeks later, Wang went back to China, the allure of migration waning.
“That kind of ‘good life’ isn’t what I want,” he said. “It’s impossible for me to truly integrate.”
“I need my family, so I won’t do it again.”
*The names of migrants quoted in this story have been changed.
Dzemal Catic contributed to this article.
This article was produced within the framework of MOST – Media Organisations for Stronger Transnational Journalism, a Journalism Partnership funded by the Creative Europe programme that supports independent media specialising in international reporting.