For Chinese millennials, Renren was more than a social media platform — it was a digital diary, a link to their classmates, and a snapshot of their youth. But in recent days, users have discovered that the site, once dubbed “China’s Facebook,” is no longer accessible, raising questions about the future of a platform that shaped an era of online socializing in China.

Domestic media reported earlier this week that Renren users were unable to log in, encountering account and password errors. On Dec. 2, the platform confirmed it had suspended services, claiming that it is undergoing an “upgrade.”

“Renren is undergoing an upgrade, much like trading in your trusty fuel-powered car for a new energy vehicle after years of use,” the platform stated on its website. “We kindly ask for your patience until our new car hits the road.”

The announcement also assured users that their data would be protected during this transition and vowed to keep their personal information safe from any threats.

Founded in 2005 as Xiaonei.net, Renren began as a campus-focused social network created by Wang Xing, founder of the Chinese tech giant Meituan, and several university students. It was later rebranded as Renren.net in 2009, broadening its scope to target young professionals alongside students.

By the end of 2010, the platform had amassed 170 million registered users. The following year, Renren went public on the New York Stock Exchange, reaching a market value of over $7 billion — second only to domestic behemoths Tencent and Baidu at the time.

Among its defining features was Happy Farm, a virtual farming game introduced in 2008 that allowed users to plant, water, harvest, and trade crops to earn points. The game became a nationwide phenomenon, inspiring similar features on platforms like Facebook and Tencent’s QZone and turning “stealing vegetables” from friends’ farms into a cultural craze.

Despite this early success, Renren’s fortunes declined quickly in the 2010s, as it struggled to adapt to a rapidly evolving social media landscape. Attempts to expand into businesses like gaming, group buying, and video services all failed to gain traction.

Meanwhile, newer platforms such as the social superapp, WeChat, and the microblogging platform, Weibo, captured the attention of Chinese users with more innovative features and mobile-friendly designs. In 2018, Renren was sold for $20 million, effectively marking the end of its relevance to China’s internet scene.

The abrupt suspension of Renren’s services this week has left many users scrambling to retrieve years of memories stored on the platform. With no prior notice, users were unable to back up or migrate their data, sparking widespread frustration.

Some of the troubles date back months, if not longer. Qu, a former user who requested to be identified only by her surname, told Sixth Tone that she had tried to log into her Renren account earlier this year to retrieve a cherished photo but was met with error messages.

The image, taken in 2009 during her time as a university student in England, held sentimental value as a record of her visit to a lake in Germany. During a recent return trip to the same location, she realized the photo was stored exclusively on Renren after her hard drive broke years ago.

Determined to recover it, Qu turned to a data retrieval service on Taobao, China’s leading e-commerce platform, paying 200 yuan ($28) to regain access to her account. After successfully retrieving the photo, she shared the method on social media, drawing interest from others eager to recover their own memories. “Everyone has their obsessions,” she said.

Another former user, surnamed Yin, also turned to Taobao but ultimately found success by filing a complaint through the Internet Information Service Complaint Platform. After two to three weeks, Renren’s customer service responded with an email containing his recovered data.

For most Chinese born in the ’80s and ’90s, their attachment to Renren is less about social media and more about preserving memories of their youth. Even as the platform faded into irrelevance, its associations with their formative years have imbued it with a sense of nostalgia.

Li Kun, a university student from 2010 to 2014, remembers earning “Campus Star” status on Renren — a leaderboard ranking users by profile visits. Her posts included school-related updates shared through photos and text.

After graduating, Li joined Renren as an employee, fulfilling a long-held ambition. There, she met her future husband, a colleague who had discovered her profile through the platform’s real-name registration system. At the time, Renren was a prominent player in China’s tech industry, and its employees were in high demand. “Having Renren on your resume made job-hopping easy back then,” Li told Sixth Tone.

Although Li and her husband have since moved on to new careers, they chose to settle near Renren’s former headquarters, a decision influenced by their connection to the platform. In 2017, they returned to take wedding photos in front of the company’s logo, which has since been removed.

Though she acknowledged that times had changed, Li said: “There is no substitute for Renren in China.”

Editor: Apurva.

(Header image: VCG)