It’s 8 a.m. on Sept. 17, and 25-year-old Lin Yong is milling about outside the headquarters of Pangdonglai, a retail company that operates dozens of malls and grocery stores across China’s central Henan province. He’s among 30 ex-convicts who have arrived for job interviews — and for once, they’re not at a disadvantage.

Life after leaving prison can be challenging, especially when it comes to finding work, with many employers unwilling to “take the risk.” However, in August, Pangdonglai’s founder, Yu Donglai, promised to create jobs specifically for people with criminal records at the company’s newest mall in Xinxiang, a city just north of the province’s capital, Zhengzhou. Of the 1,000 or so vacant positions, he pledged to reserve 2% for ex-cons.

After waiting about 30 minutes outside Pangdonglai Times Plaza in Xuchang, a city south of Zhengzhou, Lin and his fellow candidates are led to an interview room, where they eventually come face to face with Yu for a short pep talk. “You’ve already paid the price for your past mistakes,” the CEO tells them. “Don’t feel inferior. Just do your job well.”

It’s a group interview, with everyone sitting in a circle. One by one, the candidates introduce themselves and their prison experience, as well as their understanding of the company culture. (Editor’s note: For personal reasons, Lin, who was released from prison early for good behavior in 2025, requested not to include his crime or sentence in this story.)

Lin was urged to apply to Pangdonglai by a community worker responsible for checking in on him every month. The recruitment ad read that applicants need only be under the age of 35, have a middle school education or higher, and have spent no longer than 10 years in prison.

After making his initial announcement on Douyin, the Chinese version of TikTok, Yu took to social media once again a few days later to respond to comments on the recruitment of ex-cons, calling on society not to discriminate against these individuals, but instead to accept them with kindness and tolerance.

Lin says that when he saw netizens joking that Pangdonglai “values convictions over academic degrees,” he felt that a criminal record could actually be an advantage for his job application. “Labels are something you give yourself, not something others impose onto you,” he adds.

“Forgive yourself”

It was 1 a.m. when Du Gang saw Yu’s initial post. The 37-year-old immediately shook his wife awake to share it with her, and she encouraged him to apply for a job.

The next day, he took a three-hour train ride from his home in Anyang to Xinxiang to ask staff at a service desk in one of the existing Pangdonglai malls when the official recruitment announcement would be released. He was simply advised to follow the company’s official account on the WeChat messaging platform. “It wasn’t a wasted trip,” Du says. “At least I knew where the information would be posted first.”

Ten years ago, Du worked selling medical devices. One night, after securing a major contract, he took some friends to karaoke to celebrate, booking a private room. While there, several intoxicated men barged in and a fight broke out, leaving one of the men with serious injuries. Du and his friends paid 500,000 yuan ($70,275) in compensation, and in 2016, Du was handed a suspended three-year sentence for intentional injury.

Not long after, he began working in sales for a private hospital and was caught committing medical insurance fraud. He was eventually convicted on the new charge and given three years and three months in prison, to be served concurrently with his previous sentence.

During his more than 1,000 days and nights “counting bricks” in his cell, Du lost all contact with his wife and their little girl. Upon his release in the summer of 2023, he was finally reunited with his daughter, then 5 years old, but she refused to go near him until her mother confirmed the man standing before her was truly her father.

“The fact that I can talk about these things now without getting emotional means I’ve finally moved on,” he says. “Before you can give back to the people around you, you must first learn to forgive yourself.”

Du has held several jobs since leaving prison, but none have lasted long. One was at a medical device company in Anyang, which didn’t conduct a criminal background check when he was hired as a sales rep — yet they did when he was offered a promotion. When his past came to light, he was fired.

Recently, he went through three rounds of interviews for a fertilizer company in the northern Hebei province before being asked to provide his educational qualifications, a personal credit report, and a certificate proving he had no criminal record.

“Right now, every industry is struggling — even for ordinary people, it’s hard to find work,” Du says. “Companies are worried about taking risks. If other candidates have clean records, why would they hire people like us with criminal backgrounds?”

Despite being over the required age, Du still made a trip to the Pangdonglai store in Xuchang to submit his résumé and job application. In the end, he didn’t make the cut.

Open-door policy

Zhang Lin, who works in human resources for a traditional manufacturing company, has previously hired ex-cons as security guards and drivers, and says that recruiters in his industry tend to be more open-minded and rarely conduct criminal background checks on candidates.

“Jobs here require workers to spend most of their time interacting with machines, not people,” he explains. “I’m more concerned with the motives behind their crimes and their behavior in prison.”

If an applicant voluntarily reveals that they have served time, Zhang will typically contact the prison to ask about their conduct while inside. “At most, I’ll ask whether they were granted a reduced sentence for good behavior,” as it makes them a stronger candidate, he says. In interviews, he also sometimes explores what candidates may have learned from their period of incarceration.

However, the onboarding process for ex-cons is often longer than usual, with extended probation to see how they adapt and integrate. Zhang says his company takes measures to keep their backgrounds confidential to avoid any problems with colleagues.

By contrast, the barriers to entry are much higher in other industries. For example, Li Ming, who used to work in HR for a major electric vehicle company, said that any job applicant with a criminal record — or unable to prove they didn’t have one — was automatically disqualified.

“There’s no loss for the company if it doesn’t hire ex-cons, but hiring them comes with risks,” he says, adding that he would always prefer to hire a weaker candidate with a clean record. “In today’s job market, there are too many applicants competing for too few jobs, so companies can afford to be choosy.”

According to Beijing attorney Tang Dongyan, Chinese law places two kinds of employment restrictions on convicted criminals: one type is a blanket ban on key positions in society, including civil servants, judges, or teachers; the other blocks individuals from certain industries based on their specific crimes, such as preventing someone incarcerated for food safety offenses from working in food production upon release.

However, the country’s Prison Law states that convicts enjoy equal rights after completing their sentence, while the Employment Promotion Law ensures that all workers have the freedom to choose their careers.

Tang explains that for positions and industries not mentioned in the law, companies are not allowed to conduct criminal background checks on job candidates. Some regions have even stricter regulations, such as in Shanghai, which explicitly forbids employers from requesting criminal record certificates.

In reality, however, the practice remains prevalent. With few administrative punishments, even if a job seeker were to report a recruiter for conducting a background check, there’s little to no recourse available to them.

“As criminal legislation has evolved, the proportion of minor to major offenses has risen, and the traditional view that possessing a criminal record is equivalent to posing a high risk to society no longer aligns with the complex realities of today’s society,” Tang says, explaining that China’s Criminal Law now covers many misdemeanors — actions that are criminal because they’re prohibited, such as illegally occupying farmland or throwing objects from high places — which are inherently different from violent crimes like murder, arson, or robbery.

Ex-cons face multiple challenges when attempting to reintegrate into society, including employment discrimination, low social recognition, and strained family relationships. The difficulty of securing stable employment can push them into the margins of society, and potentially back into a life of crime.

Tang believes that Pangdonglai’s recruitment policy sends a positive message that ex-cons should be treated equally, and that employers should be open and inclusive.

On the right path

After nearly five hours of interviews, the recruiters at Pangdonglai gather Lin and his fellow candidates to announce their decision — all 30 will be hired. The room erupted in loud applause.

Yet, almost instantly, Lin begins to worry whether he can pass the company’s six-month probation period. “I just hope I can get along well with my leaders, and that they’ll notice me,” he says.

As the new Xinxiang mall is still under renovation, Pangdonglai has stated that more information on the ex-cons’ actual positions will come later, with roles to be based on their individual qualifications. Lin believes they are unlikely to be customer-facing roles. “There are some things that everyone knows just have to be a certain way,” he says. “Once you truly understand what it means to have this identity, you let go of any unrealistic expectations.”

After returning home empty-handed from Xuchang, Du wrote Pangdonglai a letter introducing himself and asking for a job interview. The response, which came a few days later, was effectively “Thanks, but no.” Du has decided to try again next year, when a new store is expected to open in Zhengzhou.

“At least Pangdonglai’s recruitment campaign has brought more public attention to the plight of ex-cons,” he says. “The doors of the world will likely open a little bit wider for us now.”

In comments under videos posted by Yu about his recruitment philosophy, many former inmates have posted personal introductions, seeking opportunities. Some employers have also left messages expressing their willingness to hire them.

Before receiving the interview invitation, Lin had planned to team up with a friend he met in prison to start a cross-border e-commerce business. The company already has hundreds of employees, and the friend was willing to offer him training. However, Lin feels the Pangdonglai job offers the chance of a more stable life.

While much of life for this 25-year-old remains uncertain, he feels he’s finally on the straight and narrow.

(Due to privacy concerns, all names except Tang Dongyan are pseudonyms.)

Reported by Gan Yumin and Zhu Yawen.

A version of this article originally appeared in Original (Jiefang Daily). It has been translated and edited for brevity and clarity, and is republished here with permission.

Translator: Carrie Davies; Editors: Wang Juyi and Hao Qibao.

(Header image: Visuals from VCG, reedited by Sixth Tone)