The number of students who take offline courses at “Fall in Love Emotional Education” has grown from one in 2014, to more than 300 now, according to Zhang Mindong. About 90 percent of graduates end up with girlfriends, he said.
At the October session, there was Yu Ruitong, a 23-year-old software developer who had three previous relationships; Ye Chaoqun, a 27-year-old small business owner who is hoping to make the woman he likes fall in love with him; and James Zhang, a 30-year-old cancer doctor who is looking to expand the circle of women he knows. Both Mr. Ye and James Zhang have returned to polish what they learned earlier — this time free of charge.
To show his students what they were up against, Zhang Mindong held up a profile of an attractive woman on a dating app that had garnered “likes” from 7,000 men. “This is the environment in China,” he said.
In the first hour, Zhang Mindong proclaimed them sartorial disasters. Most of the first day was devoted to improving dress. (“Narrow collars, sleeves should be folded up above the elbow and trousers should be fitted.”) They bought clothes and got haircuts.
“After getting into a relationship with a woman, many Chinese men let themselves go. They don’t wash their hair, change their clothes and become really dirty,” said Zhang Mindong, who was wearing hip glasses and a fitted white shirt.
“But that’s not the case for women, and this is why so many Chinese men can’t have a long-term relationship.”
The makeovers are followed by the students posing for photos — reading Stephen Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time,” sipping tea and nibbling canapés presented in a silver bird cage, looking pensively out a window. That culminated in selfies with Wang Zhen, a female friend of Mr. Cui’s.
That’s designed for dating in the digital era. In China, where the mobile internet has revolutionized social life, getting to know a person takes place almost exclusively on WeChat, a popular social media tool that is used by nearly 1 billion people.
Most social interactions in China usually start or end with people scanning each other’s WeChat QR codes — a practice known as saoing — or adding each other’s WeChat IDs. Many women form their impressions of men based on photographs on WeChat’s “Moments,” a Facebook-like tool.
On a Thursday night outside a busy shopping mall in Jinan, the students got their first challenge: approach women and ask for their WeChat contacts.
“You give her two choices: ‘Why don’t you add me or I sao you?’” Zhang Mindong told the students. “So no matter what she picks, you’ll succeed.”
After practicing their moves on Ms. Wang, the students set off. Zhang Zhenxiao rushed up to two women, who paused but continued walking. He chased after them and stopped them again. After a minute, they walked away.
“I didn’t succeed,” a dejected Mr. Zhang said, returning to the group.
“No, the fact that you approached them means you did,” Mr. Cui said, patting him on the back.
By the end of the night, all the students had obtained at least one WeChat contact.
The classes, held in an apartment on the grounds of Shandong University, have an air of brotherly camaraderie — the students, huddled together on a floral couch scribbling in notebooks, practiced real smiles and flirtatious banter with their coaches.
A materials buyer for a renovations company, Zhang Zhenxiao said he had never learned how to talk to a woman. His high school forbade students from mixing with members of the opposite sex. His parents had an arranged marriage.
Now, they are giving him pressure to settle down. He is on a quest for his ideal woman — a bubbly tomboy who likes wearing jeans and not skirts all the time.
“I think there are many single women who are just like me,” he said, “all longing for love.”