At 55 and Unmarried, Yu Feihong Says Happiness Comes First
A quiet appearance at an art exhibition has turned into one of the week’s most discussed cultural conversations in China. Actress Yu Feihong, now 55, was photographed at a gallery opening in a plain, understated outfit with barely any makeup, standing silently in front of the works. Commenters said she hardly looked her age — and then, as they always do, returned to the same questions: why isn’t she married, and who will look after her when she is old?
Yu has answered those questions many times over the years, and her answer has not changed. “I’m not against marriage, and I’m not committed to staying single,” she has said. “I’m committed to happiness. Marriage is not a required item on life’s list. Let things come as they come.” She has never had children and has never treated that as a gap to be filled.
For readers outside China, Yu is a familiar face from television and film, known for restrained, intelligent roles and for a public image that has always seemed slightly apart from the celebrity machine. She rarely chases headlines, gives few interviews and has built a career that spans decades without the usual scandals or publicity stunts. That reserve is precisely why her occasional remarks about how she lives tend to travel so far.
Her position lands in the middle of a real social shift. Marriage rates in China have been falling and the average age at first marriage has been rising, especially in big cities, as more women pursue education and careers and as the cost of housing and raising a child weighs on young couples. Being unmarried at 55 is still unusual enough to prompt comment, but the tone of that comment is changing, and Yu has become something of a reference point for women who want a life that is not organized around a wedding date.
The reaction online was split in the familiar way. Some praised her composure and said she looked genuinely content, while others repeated the old worries about loneliness and old age. What stood out was how little the criticism seemed to touch her. She has spent years declining to argue with the question, offering instead a simple statement of priorities: happiness first, and everything else optional.
Her appearance at the exhibition also drew attention for its restraint. In a celebrity culture that rewards visible effort, Yu’s plain suit and light makeup read as a kind of confidence — a refusal to perform youth or to apologize for age. Observers noted that she seemed more interested in the art than in the cameras, and that the photographs captured someone comfortable in her own company.
Yu’s remarks echo a broader conversation in Chinese self-help and lifestyle writing, much of it aimed at women, about not measuring a life against other people’s timelines. Whether framed as a celebrity interview or a magazine essay, the message is similar: a good life is one you can stand to live, not one that satisfies a checklist.
For a global audience, the story is a small window into how one of China’s most respected actresses has handled a question that many women around the world still face. Yu’s answer is not a manifesto. It is closer to a shrug — polite, firm and entirely her own.