Robert Marquand of The Christian Science Monitor published an article on how love and money are reshaping Chinese society. (Excerpts)

Bright and earnest, Zhu Zi and Gao Yanping fill out a wedding application in neat Chinese characters at a marriage registry above a bakery. Zhu waited years to find a husband like Gao. It was Zhu, a little saucy, who first phoned Gao, a little quiet. They hit it off: Both are under 30, engineers, smart, living in Beijing, and, most crucial, they are from the same province, Shaanxi, which means annual visits home together. They lived together unmarried for 14 months, something illegal until last year, before Zhu, tired of waiting, proposed. Gao right away said OK
The couple took a number, waited in line, and said "I do" in just over an hour. The certificate costs about $1.15. Marriage forms no longer ask frightening questions about parents' history or Communist Party affiliations. Nor must couples seek permission from their "work unit" boss, a major shift from last year.
"It is easier to meet people now, but it is harder to find the right one," says a young female junior exec as she sips from her water bottle. "We never had cellphones or text messages before, and we can meet many new people every day. But our expectations for a partner are so high that few can match them."
Along with this, a discourse of "feeling" and "emotion" that used to exist mainly in elite circles is now heard at all levels, from tycoons to taxi drivers. Shops advertise "passion styles" for cars and kitchens. Romance novels are a rage. Divorce was discouraged and nearly non-existent. Marriages were arranged among families or inside "work units;" a main criterion was the communist or "revolutionary" credentials of the spouse's family.
Wealth, it turns out, has caused many urban Chinese to think and behave in ways that don't always include families. Boarding schools have tripled in the past decade. Extramarital relations have skyrocketed. As the cost of living increases in urban China, many young women, often from outside the city, are subsidized by men.
Typical is Yu Weijing, 25, who stays in Beijing by being enrolled in graduate school. Her boyfriend is 40, divorced, has a son, and owns a pharmacy. They stay together five days a month. He pays her rent. She is now dating another businessman, and wonders if she should change income sources, since she hears the pharmacist is also dating. She wants a "short cut" to financial security and a good life, and repeats a saying here that "a good date is better than a good job." Officials are considering transparency laws requiring husbands to show family earnings to wives; many divorce cases exist now where wives are suddenly left only with the furniture.
Before, one never talked about a "boy- friend" or "girlfriend." A special friend was a "partner," and it implied an impending marriage. No longer. In the city, females will ask males out. Young Chinese want to get to know one another. The American "eight-minute date" has just hit Beijing.
The new craving for "feeling" has brought new experimentation - not always with happy results. The most popular film in China last year, "Shouji (Cellphone)", centered on a man who cleverly used his cellphone to shield his lovers from his wife. The film introduced the phrase "aesthetic fatigue," which describes a culture of too many overripe relationships. The pace is often so intense that the passion burns out quickly; too many relationships are based on sex alone, Chinese complain.
"Singles aren't talking about marriage, lovers aren't talking about the future," as one put it. A saying among high school and college students describes a weariness with a growing pattern of "one-week" relationships: "On Monday, you send out vibes. Tuesday, you express true desire. Wednesday, you hold hands. Thursday, you sleep together. Friday, a feeling of distance sets in. Saturday, you want out. On Sunday, you start searching again."

For full article click here, http://www.csmonitor.com/2004/1215/p01s04-woap.html?s=spworld