You can marry for Love, you can marry for Money, or, in Beijing, … you can marry for a license plate.
As authorities try to cap the number of vehicles in China’s car-choked capital, they’ve taken to doling out new license plates via a six-time-a-year lottery. The odds are daunting. This June alone, more than 2.8 million people entered the drawing, and officials handed plates out at the lowest rate ever: one per 843 entries.
Since any driver who has resided in Beijing for more than a year can register, the drawing is fair in principle. But the license-plate system has a big loophole. While private sales of license plates are banned, the rules allow transfers between spouses.
Thus one solution: sham marriages. In crowded forums and chat rooms, plate owners offer to tie the knot - for the right price.
“All we need is a marriage registration, and we can get you a license plate,” one middleman boasts in an online ad. “No need for the lottery - pay once and get the benefit for life!”
But that benefit doesn’t come cheap. At current rates, a fake-marriage license plate costs some 90,000 yuan - more than many Chinese-made cars. So-called leopard numbers, which include the same digit at least three times, are most desirable, and licenses with 888 can run as high as 150,000 yuan.
It’s a steep price to pay for the dubious privilege of driving in Beijing, with its clogged roads, angry drivers, and paucity of parking. But the booming middle class sees a car as a necessity, so demand is intense.
One young man tried the lottery for three years before taking the fake-matrimony route. The woman he chose had posted an ad saying: “Men who are interested [in fake marriage] to transfer the license, contact me. Middlemen don’t bother.”
A resident of Hebei was among the fortunate ones. He had two plates, so he posted one online, and a woman offered 80,000 yuan for it. He accepted. They divorced their respective spouses, married each other, and arranged the transfer. Once the paperwork was approved, they divorced a second time, and remarried their original spouses.
Enticements for matrimonial mischief extend beyond license plates. In Shanghai, people get sham divorces to take advantage of lower real-estate down-payment requirements for first-time buyers. One broker in the city married four different customers to help them satisfy regulations restricting housing purchases to locals.
Decades of the one-child policy and parents’ preference for males has led to a glut of men and a dearth of women. Among middle-class Chinese, owning a house is seen as an “entry ticket” for male suitors to be considered eligible mates. Which raises an odd dilemma: To get a real wife, you need a house. But to get that house, you may first need a fake wife.