Just Got Scammed in China — What Do You Actually Do?

This page is triage. If something feels wrong right now, jump to the walk-away scripts below — they work mid-conversation. If the money is already gone, the reporting steps take about thirty minutes and start with the same emergency numbers in China (110, 120, 119) you'd use for anything else. And if nothing has happened yet, better still: read the six classic scams first. The teahouse invitation, the "art student," the meterless taxi — they all run on the same script, and recognizing it is most of the defense.

Getting out mid-scam

Almost every tourist scam in China depends on your politeness. There is no stage where a scammer physically stops you from leaving — the trap is social pressure: the tea is already poured, the "friends" are already seated, the driver is already moving your bag toward the trunk. So the single most effective move is embarrassingly simple: stop talking, turn, and walk. You do not need a reason. You do not need to be rude. You need distance.

If you want words to walk out on, use these. Say them once, flat, and keep moving:

For a taxi that "forgot" the meter — a classic overcharge travelers run into everywhere — one phrase settles it before the car moves:

If the driver refuses, get out. There is always another car, and a refusal tells you everything about the fare you were about to pay.

When someone blocks the exit socially — a bill you never agreed to, a "manager" suddenly appearing — escalate exactly one step:

Say it calmly and take your phone out. Scam operations survive by staying invisible; the word bàojǐng — report to police — usually ends the performance on the spot, because a visit from officers costs them far more than your bill.

Reporting it: 110 and 12301

If the scam involved coercion, a significant amount of money, or anyone touching you or your belongings, call 110 — China's national police line, free from any phone with signal. Dispatchers work in Mandarin, so the reliable move is the same one that works for every emergency here: hand your phone, or your screen, to any nearby adult.

At the police station, ask for the report receipt — 报警回执 (bàojǐng huízhí). It's a short stamped document confirming you filed a report, and most travel insurers ask for it before paying a theft or fraud claim — check your policy for the exact requirements. Photograph it the moment it's in your hand.

For complaints that are about tourism rather than crime — a venue that inflated the bill, a guide who rerouted your day through commission shops, a tour that vanished — the number is 12301, China's tourism service hotline. It handles tourist complaints nationwide and can push a case to the local tourism authority, which has real power over licensed venues and guides.

Getting money back, realistically

How you paid decides your odds. If you paid through Alipay or WeChat Pay, open the transaction inside the app and report it — both apps have built-in complaint flows for fraudulent payments, and a report can trigger an investigation of the receiving account. Do this the same day, and pair it with the 110 report: a payment platform takes a complaint far more seriously when a police case number is attached.

If you paid by card, call your bank and ask about a chargeback for a fraudulent or misrepresented transaction. Your 报警回执 and screenshots are your supporting documents. Timelines and rules vary by bank and card network, so let them walk you through it — and start promptly, because chargeback windows close.

If you paid in cash — the teahouse bill, the "gift" you were pressured into buying — be honest with yourself: small street-level scams are rarely refunded. Report anyway. Your report costs you twenty minutes and builds the record that lets police shut a repeat operation down; the tourist after you benefits even when your two hundred yuan doesn't come back.

The mindset that prevents most of it

Nearly every scam aimed at travelers here opens the same way: a stranger with unusually good English approaches you, warm and curious, with an invitation — tea, art, a bar, "practice English with us." Real life runs the other direction. Locals who want to chat will happily do it where you already are; they don't need to move you to a second location where the prices live. A friendly stranger who picked you out of a crowd and wants to take you somewhere is the pattern. When you see the pattern, walk.

The second rule covers the rest: nothing legitimate requires handing cash to a stranger — not a "temple donation" a monk pressed on you, not a deposit for a tour sold on the sidewalk, not a fine that must be paid on the spot in bills. Legitimate businesses in China overwhelmingly run on scannable, traceable app payments; an insistence on untraceable cash is itself the tell.

Those two habits — decline the approaching invitation, refuse cash-to-strangers — defuse the teahouse scam, the art student, the fake monk, and their cousins before they start. For how each one plays out beat by beat, spend five minutes with the six classic scams before your trip. It's the cheapest insurance you'll buy.