Watch: Why the lonely in China are hiring 'temporary children'

"The biggest difficulty really was the loneliness. Sometimes, if I wanted to talk to someone I'd talk to the TV."

Yang, 91, lives on the outskirts of China's bustling capital Beijing. Following the death of her husband, she was so lonely that she says she even considered the possibility of voluntary euthanasia.

"I asked my son about it but he told me it was banned. I told him that if it ever becomes legal I want to do it - I didn't want to live any longer."

Suffering glaucoma, with failing eyesight, she was unable to even do basic things like adjust the controls on her air conditioner.

Cases such as Yang's have become increasingly common in Chinese cities which Associate Professor Teresa Kuan, from the Chinese University of Hong Kong, says is "exacerbated by the structure of society and the modes by which people interact".

There are many causes of isolation in China. Most of it happens when rural migrants pursue economic opportunities, leaving behind close-knit support networks for urban centres where loneliness and uncertainty can be difficult to overcome, or when graduates uproot themselves chasing employment on the other side of the country.

Suffering from glaucoma and failing eyesight, 91-year-old Yang found simple tasks and daily life increasingly difficult on her own.

But now a growing "loneliness industry" has emerged to try to fill these gaps in people's lives.

Yang says her life has been transformed by one of these services - Wang Yingwei and his electric scooter delivery team - who started coming over twice a day with hot meals but whose help extends far beyond that.

"We see ourselves as community children," Yingwei told the BBC. "It means putting yourself in the shoes of older people and carefully considering their needs.

"For example, they may be drinking tap water which can be cloudy and contain a lot of lime. I can fix this problem with a filtered water tank. Such a small thing can make them much happier. Maybe they can't shower because their equipment is broken. I'll buy a part, replace it and their shower is fine."

"The elderly treat us like their children, and we treat them like our own parents," he added.

Yingwei's services cost less than half the price of employing a caregiver.

Wang Yingwei and his small delivery team offer more than just meals, bringing human connection to elderly residents.

The former mobile phone salesman says he started his company to help seniors remain at home without having to move into retirement facilities. He was inspired to do this after his own father-in-law, who had developed Alzheimer's, had to go into a nursing home. Yingwei said he felt that the conditions there were so sub-standard he wanted to make sure others could stay out of institutions like this for as long as possible.

His small business currently employs four people but he says there is a possibility he will expand as demand grows.

There is still a shortage of solid data on the size of this sector – which operators say has exploded in recent years – but securities company Sinolink valued it at around $7.4 billion in 2025. And this is only expected to grow given the trajectory of modern lifestyles.

Zheng Ruizhi, another client of Yingwei's who lives in Beijing's northern outskirts, welcomed him at the door with a big smile.

"After retiring, I don't have much opportunity to hang out with others," the 75-year-old, whose son lives two hours away from her, told the BBC.

She was recovering from a recent injury which she said was making everyday tasks more difficult.

Zheng Ruizhi, 75, shares a lighthearted moment with Wang Yingwei during a home visit.

But the arrival of Yingwei – who she calls her "dear boy" – lightened her mood.

"I call you 'dear boy' because I am so fond of you. I genuinely like you from the bottom of my heart. I also admire and trust you. When you help me out, I don't have a single worry or fear," she told him.

Yet the services offered by those in this sector are not limited to home visits.

Twenty-three-year-old Liu Yanyan, for instance, works as a "medical escort". She acts as a friendly face taking clients to see the doctor, or picking up their test results or medication from city hospitals, which can be intimidatingly large and bureaucratic.

"Some of my customers are people in their 20s who came to Beijing to build a career. They might not have friends here or feel awkward asking colleagues to accompany them because of the concept of social reciprocity in Chinese culture," she said. "If I accompanied you to a doctor's appointment for free, you might feel obligated to buy me a meal or a movie ticket afterwards."

She said that, because of this, there are many people in modern Chinese society who tend to keep to themselves.

"So, they hire someone like me to accompany them to the hospital. If they had to go alone, they could feel scared or anxious."

Liu Yanyan, a 23-year-old medical escort, helps clients navigate complex city hospitals.

At the core of many businesses catering to loneliness in China is a simple offering: human connection.

Teresa Kuan said that some people prefer the option of pouring their hearts out to a complete stranger for a fee.

"If there is a companion you have paid for, the relationship is not exactly equal. It is a service relationship, so you don't have to deal with the unpredictability of a standard relationship. The thing about friendship is that it can be unpredictable. You don't know when someone might disappoint you. But, in a service relationship, you have a better idea of what to expect."

Wang Zhoutao runs a hiking business to help people who want to climb China's famous mountain Huangshan in Anhui Province.

"We provide emotional support, like cheering them up, taking their photo or telling jokes. It's really a service based on companionship," he said.

The former soldier added that he normally hikes up the mountain with clients 10 to 15 days a month. When fully booked, this could be as many as 30 times a month.

Mountain escort Wang Zhoutao guides a client up the steep steps of Mount Huangshan.

He gave an example of a young woman he once accompanied who felt ostracised at work. "She felt useless and wanted to prove something to herself," he said.

"We started climbing but it was a tough trek as the weather was really hot and we were sweating a lot. There were moments she wanted to give up but I told her, 'If you quit now and can't get over this mountain how will you handle anything else in life?'. I kept encouraging her."

After they made it all the way he said she sent him a long message of thanks describing her inner journey and expressing her gratitude.

"The pace of life is just too fast these days. People face pressure from work, relationships and family expectations," he said. "I think my clients are mostly people who feel a void in their relationships or have suffered a setback."

Human connection is a necessity but, in a society grappling with loneliness across generations, it has now also become a commodity.

Back in her little Beijing flat, Yang is feeling more comfortable now that Yingwei has sorted out her problem of making the air conditioner work properly.

"It's good to have someone around when you need it, someone you can share your innermost thoughts with," she said.

"I did struggle with loneliness but that's been resolved now. I'm quite happy.

"I can't lose Yingwei and the others. They've all got a good heart."