NANJING, China-When Gao Wenjia spotted Nanjing's "Romantic Center" on his social-media feed, he knew instantly where he would tie the knot-even if it meant traveling more than 2,000 miles from his home.

This is no drab government office. Nestled in a lakeside park, the city's marriage mecca is decked out with pink heart balloons and red flowers. A poem declares that "love is like a clasp of jade." A flower arch, Roman columns and chandeliers decorate an underground photo studio.

With the population of China shrinking, Beijing wants more marriages and babies. One long-shot strategy: turn the government bureaus that handle marriage paperwork into swoon-worthy destinations.

Throwing in honeymoon vouchers and cash handouts for new babies, the government aims to create what it calls a "birth-friendly society."

Gao and his bride-to-be, Dong Peipei, lined up in Nanjing to complete their official paperwork alongside other couples toting selfie sticks, bouquets and even pets. Within minutes, the lovebirds from the far-west region of Xinjiang were hitched.

"There are so many social-media spots here perfect for taking photos," said Dong.

Couples in China have to visit a government office to register their marriage. Traditionally that is just an administrative chore, and the real celebration happens elsewhere at a wedding banquet.

But the government saw an opportunity to turn the hassle into something more fun. Last year, Beijing loosened regulations to allow couples to register their marriages anywhere, not just in their hometown, igniting competition among local governments for a slice of the wedding tourism pie.

The government acted after a precipitous fall in China's marriage rate. The number of marriages dropped by about half compared with a decade earlier to more than six million in 2025.

In Nanjing, one new marriage registration office is located on a heart-shaped island within a famous lake, where orange signs encourage twosomes not to "walk too fast" because "happiness should be savored." Another such office is in the city's historic Confucius Temple complex, offering traditional Chinese outfits for photos.

The effort is paying off, at least for now. In the policy's first year, Nanjing's marriage registrations jumped more than 15% year over year. More than 22,000 out-of-town couples traveled to Nanjing to put a ring on it.

The Nanjing Romantic Center's mission is fostering an "atmosphere of romantic love" starting from getting the certificate, said Zhang Shuqin, who works in business development for the center. It has a bridal shop overflowing with sparkly gowns and a coffee shop serving up lattes with Chinese symbols for happiness.

"There are many people who don't particularly want to get married, but if the country is going to develop we will definitely need young people to choose marriage," Zhang said.

While efforts such as Nanjing's might redirect marriages to nicer locations, demographers are skeptical that they will do much to address the overall issue. Younger generations are wary about the financial burden of marriage and raising children, while shifting cultural norms mean women no longer rely on marriage for economic security.

"The government's overall strategy is easy entry and a difficult exit," said Ye Liu, an expert on Chinese demographics at King's College London, noting that the government has made divorce more difficult in recent years. But this fails to address the "deep-seated structural issues," she said.

With the marry-anywhere policy, Beijing is turning to a familiar move in its economic playbook: pushing provinces and cities to duke it out for growth.

Mountainous Yunnan province offers craggy backdrops for wedding photos while the southern island of Hainan has sandy beaches. Other cities stress convenience rather than romance, setting up registration offices in central locations such as banks and subway stations. The relaxed policy allows students or migrant workers to get married quickly without having to travel home.

Local governments are betting that a wedding wave will also have a side benefit: more tourism and spending in an otherwise gloomy economy. Businesses near Nanjing's registration centers woo customers with wedding-themed discounts. Chinese state media have hailed this "sweet economy" as a new engine for consumption.

Su Yuyun, who runs a small cafe at the Nanjing Romantic Center, makes special drinks for newlyweds and gives away custom refrigerator magnets.

"Coffee shops nowadays are not a booming industry-too many people are doing it and it's highly competitive," she said. Catering to the wedding crowd, she said, gives her a leg up.

At the entrance to one registration office, a maternity health leaflet wishes newlyweds "a happy marriage and a speedy pregnancy." A sign at the Romantic Center advertises an AI platform that uses photos of couples to imagine their future children.

Yet Yu Wenlei, a 21-year-old university student in Nanjing who was volunteering at the Romantic Center on a recent Saturday, said her fellow Gen Zers have reservations about parenthood.

"Most of my friends are willing to get married but not have kids," she said, mentioning the fierce competition in China for places at the best schools. "We're afraid we can't guarantee a happy, carefree childhood for our kids."

Dong and Gao, both 27, said they had no plans to have children soon. And Dong-even after traveling across the country to get a marriage license-seemed to understand why many of her generation hesitate about walking down the aisle.

She was initially scared about getting married, she said, because she fought a lot with Gao. "But there is no other solution-our parents are pushing us," she said.

Gao quickly butted in: Fighting, he said, "is very normal."