In Hangzhou, China, a striking new development is reshaping the idea of city living. The Regent International apartment complex — a sleek, futuristic tower that can house nearly 30,000 people — has drawn global attention for its ambition and its unsettling implications.
Standing 675 feet tall and curving in a dramatic “S” shape, the building was designed by Alicia Loo, the architect behind Singapore’s famous Marina Bay Sands. Unlike that symbol of luxury, Regent International is built on practicality — a vertical city created to tackle overcrowding in one of China’s fastest-growing urban centers.
Now home to about 20,000 residents, the complex functions as a self-contained ecosystem. Inside are restaurants, markets, gyms, swimming pools, salons, cafes, and even small medical clinics. Some locals joke that you could live your entire life inside without ever stepping outdoors — and that’s exactly the idea.
Rents start around $200 for a small studio and go up to roughly $600 for more private units, making it an appealing choice for young professionals, recent graduates, and remote workers. The design caters to China’s mobile urban population — people who value affordability and convenience over traditional living spaces.
The building hums with constant movement. Couriers fill the lobby, residents crowd elevators, and communal areas glow at night with the buzz of noodle shops, karaoke bars, and coffeehouses doubling as coworking hubs.
Yet the project has stirred sharp debate. Critics label it “dystopian,” saying it reflects the isolating side of modern urban life — where efficiency replaces nature and privacy. Many units are small and windowless, and most measure under 400 square feet.
Urban planners admire its sustainable features, including shared utilities, efficient energy systems, and advanced waste management. But mental health experts question whether such dense living can support real human connection.
For some, the trade-off is worth it. “I can live alone and have everything I need right here,” said one designer on the 22nd floor. “It’s not lonely — it’s efficient.”
Others disagree. “It feels like being part of a machine,” another resident said. “Everyone’s civil, but no one really knows each other. It’s convenient, not living.”
Architect Alicia Loo defends her work, saying Regent International isn’t meant to replace traditional communities but to adapt urban living for the future. “We can’t expand endlessly outward,” she said. “We have to build upward — and make it livable.”
Online, the building has become a viral sensation. Videos of its endless corridors and massive atriums draw millions of views — some viewers in awe, others disturbed. To many, it represents both the promise and the peril of tomorrow’s cities.
Ultimately, Regent International raises a difficult question: how much personal space are people willing to give up for affordability and convenience?
As cities worldwide struggle with housing shortages and rising rents, the “vertical city” may soon become more common. For now, Regent International stands as both innovation and warning — a glittering paradox in Hangzhou’s skyline, where the future of urban life feels both exciting and confined.