I Searched Xianyu for a Treadmill. I Found a 14-Year-Old Girl Instead.

A secondhand app. You go there to sell an old treadmill, a scratched desk, a phone that no longer holds a charge. In the visible corners, people bargain over furniture and sneakers. In the corners you do not see, someone is selling something else. Someone is selling a 14-year-old girl.

The reporter searched Xianyu for “swimming lessons.” A shop popped up. The photo showed a young girl standing beside a pool. He clicked in and asked: do you do home visits? The reply was short: add WeChat. On WeChat, a table arrived. Age, height, weight, available times. The youngest line read: 14. The price: 20,000 to 30,000 yuan. He asked: can it be cheaper? The other side typed a sentence: “Life only comes once. This cannot be discounted.”

He took a screenshot. He exited. He searched “in-home fitness.” Another shop appeared. The customer-service bio had four characters: “处宝可约,” a coded phrase that roughly translates to “virgin treasure, bookable.” He asked: do you have 14-year-olds? The reply: yes. He asked: how do I book? The reply: scan the code first, join the group. He scanned. The group sent a schedule. He looked at it. He closed it.

Xianyu responded: this year, it has banned 98,358 porn-related accounts and taken down 15 gangs. The reporter searched again. He could still find them. He opened one. He asked: any girls? The reply: add WeChat. He added. WeChat sent a table. It was the same as the last one.

In 2016, same-city chat was openly priced. In 2019, People’s Daily asked how a secondhand platform could become a convenient channel for pornographic transactions. In 2020, the Cyberspace Administration supervised Xianyu’s self-inspection and flagged nearly 160,000 harmful products. In 2024, the code words became “secondhand air conditioner” and “Giant bicycle.” In June 2026, a reporter bought underage photo sets for 8 yuan. Ten years. The slang changes. The problem does not.

Xianyu customer service said: product publishing relies on machine review, 6 to 24 hours. Human review appears only when a user appeals. Transactions move off-platform, so the platform cannot control them. The reporter asked customer service where these people find their customers. Customer service did not reply. The reporter answered himself: on Xianyu. Six hundred million users. Search, recommendation, private chat. The platform is the entrance.

Pause here. She is not a “precious treasure.” She is a child. Somebody’s sweet child. Somebody’s darling girl. Not a listing. Not a table with age, height, weight, and available times. Not a price that “cannot be discounted” because “life only comes once.”

She is 14. Second year of middle school. Maybe she is worried about a math problem. Maybe she is sulking because her deskmate said something careless. Maybe one night she was scrolling on her phone and a private message arrived. Then, on some day, she became a word on a shelf. A price. A sentence typed by a stranger who sounded calm, almost bored, as if he were selling a cup, a phone, an old treadmill.

The reporter found these people easily. Too easily. Search “model home shoot,” “in-home fitness,” “swimming lessons.” The shops that appear use photos of young girls. You click in and ask. They do not say it directly. First chat. First add WeChat. First scan a code and enter a group. Once you leave Xianyu, the real “course schedule” arrives. You can guess what is written on it.

A whole process, practiced as if it has been done hundreds of times.

Xianyu says it has been managing this. This year alone, it has frozen 98,358 accounts and dismantled 15 gangs. 98,358 sounds like a lot. But open Xianyu, search a few keywords, and you can still find them. The reporter found them as soon as he searched. The speed of banning cannot catch the speed of opening new accounts. Ban one. Change a phone number. Register again. The cost is almost zero.

Xianyu’s own customer service said: product publishing depends on machine review. The machine reviews fixed sensitive words and directly violating images. The black market does not use fixed words. “Swimming lessons” is not a violation. “In-home fitness” is not a violation. Only when you enter that private chat, that group, do you learn what is hidden under those words. The machine cannot see through the skin. Human review appears only when a user appeals. By the time you appeal, the transaction has already been completed on WeChat. So the platform says: the transaction moved off-site. I cannot manage it.

Those 98,358 accounts were banned by Xianyu. It knows these people exist. It knows what words they use. It knows how they guide users off the platform. It knows how many times they change their shells. It knows. But it did not stop them before they sent the first private message. Stopping them costs money. It requires manpower, upgraded algorithms, round-the-clock monitoring. The traffic is already in hand. The advertising fees are already being collected. The 0.6% service fee is already being deducted. Review is left to the machine.

When one of those 98,358 accounts is selling a 14-year-old girl, the money saved is not enough to compensate for one child’s life.

“Life only comes once. This cannot be discounted.” The sentence was typed so lightly, so matter-of-factly. As if he were selling a cup, a phone, an old treadmill.

A platform with 600 million users. A door without a lock. A 14-year-old girl standing behind the door. We do not know who she is. We do not know where she is. We do not know how she got there. But she is there.

Then Xianyu says: we banned 98,358 accounts. But that 14-year-old is not in the number.

He turned off his phone. On the desk was a glass of water. It had gone cold. He took a sip. He opened the document. He wrote. He finished. He published. Then he searched for his own article. It was still there.