Chinese Actor’s Off‑hand Remark Ignites Nationwide “Listen‑to‑Earn” Audiobook Side‑Hustle】

Zhang’s story began the way most internet sensations do – with a seemingly mundane detail that caught the public’s imagination. In an episode of the variety show “姐姐当家” (Sister Be the Boss), Zhang was asked why he was unusually quiet while waiting for his meal. He replied that he was hoping the money he earned from listening to novels on a mobile platform would finally show up in his account. Within hours, the phrase “听小说赚钱” (listening to novels to make money) surged to the top of trending topics, prompting a flood of memes, jokes, and genuine curiosity about whether the practice could be turned into a viable side gig.

The idea itself is not new, but its current incarnation is the product of several years of evolution in China’s booming audio‑content market. Early audio platforms such as Himalaya (喜马拉雅) began offering free inspirational talks and short courses as early as 2018, laying the groundwork for a culture of on‑demand listening. However, these services primarily paid content creators, not listeners. The turning point arrived in 2020 when ByteDance, the parent company of TikTok’s Chinese counterpart Toutiao (今日头条), launched 番茄畅听 (Tomato Novel), a free app that combined web‑novel reading with a streaming audio feature. The app’s “free version” promised a cost‑less experience for users who wanted to binge‑listen to serialized fiction, and it subtly introduced a reward system that would later become the template for an entire niche of “earn while you listen” applications.

From 2021 onward, a slew of apps entered the market with the explicit promise of monetizing listening time. Users could accrue virtual currency – often called “gold coins” (金币) – simply by keeping the audio stream active. The conversion rates were modest: in many cases, roughly 33,000 gold coins earned a single yuan (about 14 US cents). The apps also gamified the experience with daily check‑ins, red‑packet bonuses, referral incentives and, in some cases, the prospect of becoming a professional narrator. A typical user might be limited to 180 minutes of reward‑eligible listening per day, meaning that the most diligent listener could expect to earn a few yuan a day – enough for a cup of coffee, but nowhere near a full‑time wage.

Despite the modest payouts, the allure lies in the low barrier to entry. For commuters, stay‑at‑home parents, or anyone with “碎片时间” (fragmented time) to spare, the idea of earning a few yuan while absorbing a story is tempting. The early adopters who posted screenshots of their earnings often celebrated “白捡100块” (picking up 100 yuan for free) and “免费充会员” (free membership upgrades), fueling a perception that the apps could double as cheap entertainment and a pocket‑money source.

The social media response has been a mixture of amusement, skepticism, and genuine interest. Some users exclaim, “我的天这说法太好笑了吧!” (“My goodness, this is too funny!”), while others wonder, “谁能想到听小说还能搞副业呢？” (“Who would have thought listening to novels could be a side hustle?”). Yet there are also comments that cast doubt on the sincerity of the trend, especially given Zhang’s celebrity status. Posts like “他俩在热搜上挂了好多天了，真的搞不懂姐姐怎么想的...” (“They’ve been trending for days; I really don’t get what the sister thinks...”) and “他还不缺听小说这点米吗” (“Does he still need this meager amount of rice from listening to novels?”) suggest that many see the narrative as a publicity stunt rather than a genuine financial lifeline.

Beyond the memes, the phenomenon is reshaping parts of China’s audiobook industry. Platforms such as 番茄畅听, 追阅小说, 风阅小说, 小猪免费读书 and 下饭爽文小说阅读器 have carved out a business model that blends traditional subscription revenue with micro‑rewards. By incentivising users to stay logged and accumulate listening minutes, these services boost engagement metrics that are valuable to advertisers and potential investors. The demand for narrators has also risen, as some apps now pay users who submit their own readings, turning ordinary listeners into content creators.

The ripple effects extend to the publishing sector. Audiobook sales in China have been on a steady climb, and the new “listen‑to‑earn” model could accelerate that growth by expanding the audience pool beyond dedicated book lovers to anyone looking to make a little extra cash. Publishers may feel pressure to prioritize audio adaptations of popular web novels, and to negotiate royalty structures that accommodate the extra revenue being shared with listeners. At the same time, the emphasis on volume – more listening minutes equals more coins – raises concerns about quality control. Critics warn that a race for quantity could dilute the overall listening experience, pushing platforms to favor low‑cost, mass‑produced content over higher‑quality productions.

From a societal standpoint, the trend embodies a broader democratization of income generation. The low‑skill, low‑time‑commitment nature of the activity makes it accessible to students, retirees, or anyone with intermittent free moments. This “micro‑gig” model, however, also highlights the precariousness of digital labor. Earnings are often minuscule, and the algorithmic rules governing reward calculations can change without notice, leaving users with little recourse. Consumer‑protection advocates have pointed out the potential for exploitation, especially if apps lure users with promises of higher payouts that never materialize.

The regulatory landscape is still catching up. In China, the gig economy has prompted authorities to consider new rules around minimum wages, data privacy, and fair compensation for digital tasks. Platforms that pay users in virtual currency rather than direct cash may skirt existing labor protections, leaving participants without formal employment status or benefits. Moreover, the sheer scale of user‑generated income – even if small per person – could become a taxable revenue stream, prompting tax authorities to devise mechanisms for tracking and collecting on these micro‑earnings.

As of mid‑2025, the “listen‑to‑earn” apps remain popular, but they have shifted focus from pure monetary reward to a hybrid of retention tools: VIP days for inviting friends, automatic listening logs, free trial periods, and occasional promotional payouts. The earnings themselves remain modest; most users report pocket‑money amounts that cover trivial expenses rather than substantively supplementing a household budget. Nonetheless, the model illustrates how a simple change in incentive structure can convert a leisure activity into a gig, and how a celebrity’s off‑hand comment can turn an obscure app feature into a national talking point.

Zhang Weiyi may have sparked the wave, but the story of “听小说赚钱” is less about any one individual and more about a digital ecosystem that blends entertainment, micro‑labor, and the ever‑present desire to monetize idle time. Whether the trend will mature into a sustainable income source or fade as a fleeting meme remains to be seen, but its emergence offers a glimpse into how technology continues to reshape the boundaries between work and play in the modern Chinese economy.