Traditionally, the Chinese New Year follows a familiar script. Preparations begin days in advance: groceries are bought, homes are cleaned, and relatives slowly gather.
On New Year's Eve, families crowd around a single table for a reunion dinner, fireworks light up the sky and the annual Spring Festival Gala plays in the background.
Visits to relatives stretch on for days, sometimes until the Lantern Festival marks the official end of the holiday.
But traditions, however durable they may appear, are never entirely fixed.
As family structures and lifestyles change, many young Chinese are quietly rewriting what the holiday looks like and what it means.
Traveling instead
Zhou Mincheng, 31, works at a bank in Xi'an, Shaanxi province. Originally from Jiangsu province, she moved to her husband's hometown after they married five years ago.
Both are only children. Before marriage, they agreed to alternate New Year visits — one year with her parents, the next with his. In practice, the arrangement quickly fell apart.
Their first Spring Festival as a married couple ended in a heated argument over where to spend the holiday.
"Just thinking about not being with my parents made me feel deeply frustrated," Zhou says.
That year, after spending New Year's Eve with her husband's family, she volunteered to work during the remaining holiday, using her job as an excuse to avoid further gatherings.
When their child was born in 2023, the couple tried a second solution: celebrating with both sets of parents together. Seven people under one roof, however, proved no easier. Daily routines clashed. Eating habits differed. Privacy became a luxury.
"Everyone was properly dressed, sitting there, just staring at one another," Zhou recalls. "The only moment of freedom was when you closed your bedroom door."
Last year, they arrived at a third arrangement. Instead of staying home, the couple split up: each spouse traveled with their own parents. Their child stayed with Zhou.
It was, she says, the most relaxed Chinese New Year she had experienced since getting married.
On xiaonian (Little New Year) — a traditional prelude to the holiday — the extended family shared a reunion meal before separating. Her husband traveled with his parents to Pingyao, Shanxi province, a historical city they had long wanted to visit. Zhou took her parents and child to Sanya, Hainan province, a warm coastal resort city in southern China.
The trip was far from effortless: icy rain delayed departures, their two-year-old child struggled through a first flight, and disagreements over meals sparked fresh tensions.
But on Chinese New Year's Eve, standing on the beach, fireworks flickering in the distance while her mother and child played with sand, Zhou felt it had been worth it.
The next morning, she rose early and jogged along the beach, hoping to catch the year's first sunrise.
"For my parents' generation, the Chinese New Year once meant finally being able to eat meat," Zhou says. "But for me, having grown up in abundance, it's about being together and also having a break from work."
This year, she plans to spend Chinese New Year's Eve and the first day back in Jiangsu with her parents, before traveling with her husband and child to Guangdong province.
"As long as everyone feels happy, that's a good New Year," Zhou adds.
