Feng Qingyang had always hoped to launch his own company, but he never thought this would be how—or that the day would come this fast. 

Feng, a 27-year-old software engineer based in Beijing, started tinkering with OpenClaw, a popular new open-source AI tool that can take over a device and autonomously complete tasks for a user,  in January. He was immediately hooked, and before long he was helping other curious tech workers with less technical proficiency install the AI agent.

Feng soon realized this could be a lucrative opportunity. By the end of January, he had set up a page on Xianyu, a secondhand shopping site, advertising “OpenClaw installation support.” “No need to know coding or complex terms. Fully remote,” reads the posting. “Anyone can quickly own an AI assistant, available within 30 minutes.” 

At the same time, the broader Chinese public was beginning to catch on—and the tool, which had begun as a niche interest among tech workers, started to evolve into a popular sensation.

Feng quickly became inundated with requests, and he started chatting with customers and managing orders late into the night. At the end of February, he quit his job. Now his side gig has now grown into a full-fledged professional operation with over 100 employees. So far, the store has handled 7,000 orders, each worth about 248 RMB or approximately $34. 

“Opportunities are always fleeting,” says Feng. “As programmers, we are the first to feel the winds shift.”

Feng is among a small cohort of savvy early adopters turning China’s OpenClaw craze into cash. As users with little technical background want in, a cottage industry of people offering installation services and preconfigured hardware has sprung up to meet them. The sudden rise of these tinkerers and impromptu consultants shows just how eager the general public in China is to adopt cutting-edge AI—even when there are huge security risks. 

A “lobster craze”

“Have you raised a lobster yet?” 

Xie Manrui, a 36-year-old software engineer in Shenzhen, says he has heard this question nonstop over the past month. “Lobster” is the nickname Chinese users have given to OpenClaw—a reference to its logo.

Xie, like Feng, has been experimenting with OpenClaw since January. He’s built new open-source tools on top of the ecosystem, including one that visualizes the agent’s progress as an animated little desktop worker and another that lets users voice-chat with it. 

“I’ve met so many new people through ‘lobster raising,’” says Xie. “Many are lawyers or doctors, with little technical background, but all dedicated to learning new things.”

Lobsters are indeed popping up everywhere in China right now—on and offline. In February, for instance, the entrepreneur and tech influencer Fu Sheng hosted a livestream showing off OpenClaw’s capabilities that got 20,000 views. And just last weekend, Xie attended three different OpenClaw events in Shenzhen, each drawing more than 500 people. These self-organized, unofficial gatherings feature power users, influencers, and sometimes venture capitalists as speakers. The biggest event Xie attended, on March 7, drew more than 1,000 people; in the packed venue, he says, people were shoulder to shoulder, with many attendees unable to even get a seat.

Now China’s AI giants are starting to piggyback on the trend too, promoting their models, APIs,  and cloud services (which can be used with OpenClaw), as well as their own OpenClaw-like agents. Earlier this month, Tencent held a public event offering free installation support for OpenClaw, drawing long lines of people waiting for help, including elderly users and children.

This sudden burst in popularity has even prompted local governments to get involved. Earlier this month the government of Longgang, a district in Shenzhen, released several policies to support OpenClaw-related ventures, including free computing credits and cash rewards for standout projects. Other cities, including Wuxi, have begun rolling out similar measures.

These policies only catalyze what’s already in the air. “It was not until my father, who is 77, asked me to help install a ‘lobster’ for him that I realized this thing is truly viral,” says Henry Li, a software engineer based in Beijing. 

A programmer gold rush

What’s making this moment particularly lucrative for people with technical skills, like Feng, is that so many people want OpenClaw, but not nearly as many have the capabilities to access it. Setting it up requires a level of technical knowledge most people do not possess, from typing commands into a black terminal window to navigating unfamiliar developer platforms. On the hardware side, an older or budget laptop may struggle to run it smoothly. And if the tool is not installed on a device separate from someone’s everyday computer, or if the data accessible to OpenClaw is not properly partitioned, the user’s privacy could be at risk—opening the door to data leaks and even malicious attacks. 

Chris Zhao, known as “Qi Shifu” online, organizes OpenClaw social media groups and events in Beijing. On apps like Rednote and Jike, Zhao routinely shares his thoughts on AI, and he asks other interested users to leave their WeChat ID so he can invite them to a semi-private group chat. The proof required to join is a screenshot that shows your “lobster” up and running. Zhao says that even in group chats for experienced users, hardware and cloud setup remain a constant topic of discussion.

The relatively high bar for setting up OpenClaw has generated a sense of exclusivity, creating a natural opening for a service industry to start unfolding around it. On Chinese e-commerce platforms like Taobao and JD, a simple search for “OpenClaw” now returns hundreds of listings, most of them installation guides and technical support packages aimed at nontechnical users, priced anywhere from 100 to 700 RMB (approximately $15 to $100). At the higher end, many vendors offer to come to help you in person. 

Like Feng, most providers of these services are early adopters with some technical ability who are looking for a side gig. But as demand has surged, some have found themselves overwhelmed. Xie, the developer in Shenzhen who created tools to layer on OpenClaw, was asked by a friend who runs one such business to help out over the weekend; the friend had a customer who worked in e-commerce and had little technical experience, so Xie had to show up in person to get it done. He walked away with 600 RMB ($87) for the afternoon.

The growing demand has also pushed vendors like Feng to expand quickly. He has now standardized his operation into tiers: a basic installation, a custom package where users can make specific requests like configuring a preferred chat app, and an ongoing tutoring service for those who want a hand to hold as they find their footing with the technology.

Other vendors in China are making money combining OpenClaw with hardware. Li Gong, a Shenzhen-based seller of refurbished Mac computers, was among the first online sellers to do this—offering Mac minis and MacBooks with OpenClaw preinstalled. Because OpenClaw is designed to operate with deep access to a hard drive and can run continuously in the background unattended, many users prefer to install it on a separate device rather than on the one they use every day. This would help prevent bad actors from infiltrating the program and immediately gaining access to a wide swathe of someone’s personal information. Many turn to secondhand or refurbished options to keep the cost down. Li says that in the last two weeks, orders have increased eightfold.

Though OpenClaw itself is a new technology, the general practice of buying software bundles, downloading third-party packages, and seeking out modified devices is nothing new for many Chinese internet users, says Tianyu Fang, a PhD candidate studying the history of technology at Harvard University. Many users pay for one-off IT support services for tasks from installing Adobe software to jailbreaking a Kindle.

Still, not everyone is getting swept up. Jiang Yunhui, a tech worker based in Ningbo, worries that ordinary users who struggle with setup may not be the right audience for a technology that is still effectively in testing. 

“The hype in first-tier cities can be a little overblown,” he says. “The agent is still a proof of concept, and I doubt it would be of any life-changing use to the average person for now.” He argues that using it safely and getting anything meaningful out of it requires a level of technical fluency and independent judgment that most new users simply don’t have yet.

He’s not alone in his concerns. On March 10, the Chinese cybersecurity regulator CNCERT issued a warning about the security and data risks tied to OpenClaw, saying it heightens users’ exposure to data breaches.

Despite the potential pitfalls, though, China’s enthusiasm for OpenClaw doesn’t seem to be slowing.

Feng, now flush with the earnings from his operation, wants to use the momentum—and the capital—to keep building out his own venture with AI tools at the center of it.

“With OpenClaw and other AI agents, I want to see if I can run a one-person company,” he says. “I’m giving myself one year.”