36-Year-Old Homeless Man Poses as Nightclub Owner, Tricks Five Women into Funding His Luxury Lifestyle in Shanghai

A case emerging from Shanghai has brought to light an intricate deception that allowed a homeless man to briefly inhabit a life of luxury by persuading unsuspecting women to fund his daily expenses. Over the course of just ten days, a 36-year-old man identified as Chen managed to convince five different women that he was a wealthy nightclub owner with significant cash reserves.

His elaborate act involved the use of counterfeit training banknotes, fake job promises, and carefully crafted online personas, all of which enabled him to dine in upscale restaurants, frequent entertainment venues, purchase new clothes and a smartphone, and check into high-end hotels—all without spending a single yuan of his own.

Police uncovered the details of this unusual operation only after one of the women realised she had been deceived and lodged a formal complaint. What followed was an investigation revealing how Chen navigated between homelessness and indulgence, sustained almost entirely by false displays of wealth and psychological manipulation.

Chen’s Method of Fabricating Wealth

The foundation of Chen’s deception was a meticulously assembled illusion of prosperity. Although homeless and without steady income, he had access to bundles of training banknotes—fake currency commonly used for counting practice, recognisable by their printed markings but similar enough to real notes when handled superficially. To create credibility, Chen layered a few genuine banknotes on the top and bottom of each bundle, allowing him to display what appeared to be tens of thousands of yuan in cash without raising suspicion.

This tactic was central to convincing women that he was successful and financially secure. His method extended beyond the physical display of money. Chen crafted an online persona through which he presented himself as a recruiter offering “high-paying companionship” jobs. Operating in chat groups under a separate identity, he positioned himself as an intermediary capable of arranging well-paid engagements for women seeking temporary work.

When potential victims reached out, he seamlessly transitioned into his role as a wealthy nightclub owner, offering them supposedly lucrative future payments. By doing so, he shifted the transactional dynamic: instead of the women expecting to pay for his company, he suggested that he would pay them handsomely for theirs. During in-person meetings, Chen reinforced his fabricated story with calculated performances.

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He regularly visited high-end restaurants, bars, and entertainment venues, always arriving with a woman he had recently contacted. Each time, he acted as though he were accustomed to luxury, but when it came time to pay, he would find reasons for the women to cover the expenses—claiming temporary inconvenience, lack of immediate access to funds, or the need to keep his large cash bundles “safe.” Because the women had witnessed the cash in his possession earlier, they saw no reason to doubt his explanations.

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This blend of psychological confidence, apparent liquidity, and persuasive storytelling enabled Chen to sustain his deception until the volume of victims and inconsistencies in his behaviour eventually drew attention.

The Complaint That Exposed the Scam

Chen’s scheme began to unravel when a woman identified as Liu Qian filed a complaint with police in Shanghai’s Putuo District. The day before she reported him, she had spent time with Chen exploring the city, dining out, and visiting entertainment spots. He had presented himself as a nightclub owner and had promised to pay her 3,500 yuan in cash.

According to Liu, he arrived at her home the next morning with a black plastic bag and displayed what he claimed was between 50,000 and 60,000 yuan. He insisted the money should be placed under her bed to ensure favourable Feng Shui, and he further told her that he intended to “hire” her in the future, suggesting that the funds were meant for her upcoming payment and shared expenses.

Liu, who needed to pay rent later that day, believed she could temporarily use a small portion of the cash before receiving her promised compensation. However, when Chen left her home on the pretext of taking a phone call, she decided to inspect the money more closely. It was then that she discovered the deception: the majority of the notes inside the bundle were training banknotes, with only a few real ones placed strategically to disguise their counterfeit nature.

Realising she had been tricked, Liu reported the incident to the police. Officers quickly traced Chen’s movements and began interviewing individuals at the establishments he had frequented. It emerged that Chen had been visiting expensive locations with different women nearly every day. Staff recalled seeing him arrive confidently, dressed well, and often appearing to be in control of the situation. Yet, they also confirmed that the women were the ones who paid for all meals, drinks, hotel rooms, and transportation.

Once in custody, Chen admitted to operating without a permanent home. On days when he could not find a new woman to deceive, he spent nights sleeping on benches in public parks before resuming his search for another target the following morning. The clothes he was wearing at the time of his arrest, as well as his recently purchased smartphone, had all been paid for by the women he had conned.

How the Scheme Reveals Broader Social Vulnerabilities

Beyond the intriguing details of Chen’s individual case, the incident highlights a range of broader social and psychological vulnerabilities that he exploited with remarkable precision. First among these is the trust many people place in visual indicators of wealth. Cash, especially when displayed openly and in significant quantities, carries powerful symbolic weight. Chen understood that presenting physical money—even counterfeit—would override many doubts and allow him to manipulate the perception of his financial status.

His victims, upon seeing wads of apparently genuine currency, interpreted him as affluent and therefore reliable. The case also underscores how social expectations and personal insecurity can intersect. Chen’s victims were women seeking high-paying opportunities, and his online persona was tailored specifically to those who might be persuaded by the promise of quick financial gain.

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By offering well-paid companionship roles, he positioned himself as a gatekeeper to economic opportunities, making the women more inclined to believe his assurances. This dynamic created a power imbalance that he used to rationalise asking them to cover expenses temporarily, with the implied promise of future compensation.

Additionally, Chen’s confidence played a decisive role. Individuals operating fraudulent schemes often rely not only on materials such as counterfeit money but also on a demeanour that projects stability and sophistication. Reports suggest that Chen behaved with an air of entitlement in upscale venues, acting consistently with the image of a wealthy businessman. For his victims, this performance reinforced their assumptions and reduced their scepticism.

The incident also brings attention to the precarious circumstances faced by people experiencing homelessness. Chen’s situation, while defined by deception, also reveals the extreme lengths to which individuals may go when living without security or income. His case is not representative of homelessness as a whole, but it demonstrates how desperation, combined with opportunism, can fuel elaborate attempts to navigate social systems and personal survival.

For law enforcement, the case serves as a reminder of the challenges inherent in detecting low-level, fast-moving personal fraud. Chen operated across several districts, interacted with multiple victims in a short time span, and used cash rather than traceable electronic transactions. These factors made him difficult to identify until a victim took formal action and provided detailed information.

Authorities have indicated that they are reviewing additional cases to determine whether more women were targeted using similar methods. The investigation also emphasises the importance of public awareness regarding scams that rely not on digital manipulation but on in-person psychological tactics. While many fraud alerts today focus on online privacy, account breaches, and digital impersonation, this case demonstrates that traditional interpersonal deception remains a significant threat.

Chen’s actions, though unusual in scale and execution, highlight the need for individuals to exercise caution when encountering sudden displays of wealth or opportunities that appear disproportionately rewarding. Fraud prevention experts have long noted that scammers often rely on compressed timeframes—intense interactions over short periods—combined with emotional manipulation and financial pressure points. Chen’s ten-day spree aligns closely with this pattern, with each victim targeted quickly before doubts could form.

As the investigation continues, authorities in Shanghai are expected to release additional information about potential charges and the final list of victims. For those affected, the case has been a stark reminder of the importance of verifying claims, especially when dealing with unfamiliar individuals who present implausibly lucrative offers.

The episode stands as a compelling example of how appearances, when leveraged strategically, can override critical judgement and enable manipulation even in highly urbanised and financially literate environments like Shanghai.