三百块的质量，三百欧的价格

On the streets of Brussels, a basic single-speed bike, nothing fancy in design or materials, goes for over 200 euros. For many young people, that is not pocket change. Matthias, a 25-year-old graduate I spoke to, didn't buy his from a shiny high street shop; he scoured a secondhand store and still had to pay 120 euros, which for him is a sizable expense. No wonder, he and his friends lock up their bikes like prized possessions, in sharp contrast to China's near-ubiquitous dockless sharing bikes, often left unchained outside shops and apartments.

Take a pair of Nintendo Joy-Con controllers: in China, they cost a bit over 600 yuan, but in Europe the sticker price is 89.99 euros — about 100 yuan more after conversion. Even household basics show this curious spread: a simple ceiling fan light might sell for around 300 to 400 yuan in China — about 40 to 50 euros — but in a Belgian store, a similar quality fixture typically costs nearly double that, around 80 to 100 euros.

A brand-new iPhone 16e currently sells for 4,499 yuan ($627.72) on Apple's China website — roughly 575 euros ($676) at today's exchange rate. But walk into an Apple Store in Brussels and the exact same model starts at 719 euros, more than 1,000 yuan higher than in China. If you check the US Apple Store, the price starts at $599, which only widens the gap further.

What's behind these price gaps? Several European economists I interviewed pointed to a pattern that many in Europe would rather not discuss openly: the continent has moved away from industrial production faster than anywhere else in the developed world. Take the example of Germany, which has historically been Europe's industrial powerhouse. In 1991, industry made up over 33 percent of Germany's total economy. By 2009, it had dropped to under 24 percent, and even after years of efforts to revive manufacturing, it still hovers around 26 percent, far below its peak.

In Belgium, the story is even starker. Industrial output as a share of GDP fell from 26 percent in the mid-1990s to under 19 percent in 2023. Those lost percentage points represent factories shuttered, machines scrapped, jobs that shifted from factory floors to service counters and glass-walled offices. Across the EU's major economies, the same pattern holds true: industry shrinks while services expand, now making up about 70 percent of most national economies.

On paper, this is modern economic evolution. A larger service sector is often seen as a sign of progress, higher living standards, and smarter, more flexible jobs. You rarely see factory workers on the streets of Brussels, Berlin, or Paris these days. The same people who once tightened bolts on an assembly line now tap on tablets, guiding clients through insurance plans and mortgage refinancing — ideally over a cappuccino in a cafe booked three days in advance.

Not long ago, I visited a European scholar who studies modern tech and the digital economy. He was refreshingly honest about the contradiction: he fully supports Chinese companies selling into Europe, calling it a win-win. Chinese enterprises make money while European consumers get affordable, good-quality products. He was true to his word, too — he proudly showed me his Chinese-made electric car, which he claimed was the first of its kind in his small city (though he admitted he might have exaggerated a bit). He started it up for me, soft ambient light glowing through the panoramic sunroof.

But he didn't just praise Chinese industry. He also offered a blunt observation: despite the appeal of lower prices, Chinese goods still don't command the same trust among European consumers. I tried to challenge him on that, pulling up the latest data for Chinese electric car sales in Europe. He was right. In February 2025, registrations for Xpeng vehicles doubled in Germany — but the total was still only 162 cars. Compared to China's domestic EV market, where brands measure monthly sales in tens or hundreds of thousands, that's barely a rounding error.

His advice to Chinese companies? If you want Europeans to buy your products, don't just ship them in from Asia and hire a local sales rep. Build factories here. Hire locals. Sponsor the local football team. Make your brand feel like the friendly neighbor down the street — not a faceless exporter on the other side of the planet. "Europeans trust brands they see around them, brands that feel familiar," he said. "If Chinese companies employ local people, join local events, share the same lunch tables — trust will follow."

In a way, Europe's uneasy relationship with industrial decline is rooted in its own past. The world's first Industrial Revolution began here. For centuries, Europe was synonymous with engineering prowess — cars, planes, ships, locomotives, even the rockets that once reached the stars. For Europeans, making things wasn't just an economic necessity; it was identity. Small wonder that when an economy moves past manufacturing, people miss it — not in the sense that they want to return to the assembly line, but in the sense that they still trust what they can see, touch, and assemble themselves.