Li Qiaochu: Where do Xu Zhiyong’s and my marriage application procedures stand? On-site file review and hearing of opinions in the administrative reconsideration

On June 2, 2026, I submitted an Application for Administrative Reconsideration concerning the Shandong Prison Administration’s failure to act on our marriage application. By June 10, the five-working-day review period had expired. On July 1, the Regulation on the Implementation of the Administrative Reconsideration Law formally took effect. That day, I submitted five procedural documents to the reconsideration office at once.

July 6: Going to Jinan to review the files

Early on July 6, attorney Zhang Lei and I set out from Beijing for the Shandong Provincial Government’s administrative reconsideration office in Jinan. Based on the legally stipulated deadlines for forwarding copies and for the respondent’s reply, we requested access to the files and an in-person hearing of the parties’ opinions.

The night before, I was so anxious that I could not sleep, imagining all kinds of situations that might arise. Even though legally it had already been “deemed accepted” (whereas in the administrative reconsideration concerning correspondence rights last November, I received a notice of acceptance and a case number within three days), I was still worried—they had given me no notice and no case number; would they pretend that I did not exist at all? I am too familiar with that kind of handling, in which one is “treated as nonexistent.” After spending more than a year running around over a marriage application that should have proceeded lawfully and as a matter of course, I am still repeatedly having to prove, “I really came here, I really applied, I really exist.” It is so helpless that I feel like laughing.

In recent years, prison systems in various provinces have consistently promoted the registration of marriages for prisoners as a policy achievement in “family-affection assistance and education,” while our application has been left pending for a long time, met with silence and delay. Placed alongside those reports, this looks particularly jarring. So, on the day before leaving, drawing on my real experiences over the past year, I was filled with emotion and drew several pictures by hand to encourage myself and Zhiyong.

At 9:56 a.m., we arrived at No. 50 Wenhua East Road, Lixia District, Jinan. The Shandong Provincial Government’s on-site reception point for administrative reconsideration matters is located there and comes under the jurisdiction of the Justice Department. The security guard asked us to call the case-handling department first; a staff member had to come out to receive us before we could enter the lobby. The lawyer called, and the other party said there was no “Li Qiaochu case,” telling us to call the filing department instead. When I looked at the number for the filing department, I saw that it was the same number I had called on June 11. I called it and explained the course of the reconsideration case again, also mentioning that I had called once on June 11—that time, the person who answered asked for my EMS tracking number and said they would reply the next day. After waiting a day without a reply, I sent an inquiry letter, which also received no response. I said that today we had come to the site in accordance with the regulations, after the deadline for the respondent’s reply had expired, to request access to the files and apply for an in-person hearing of opinions. The staff member who answered said she did not know who had taken the call on June 11 and asked us to wait while she reported to her supervisor. Five minutes later, she called back and asked us to wait at the main entrance; someone would come to receive us.

That wait lasted fifteen minutes. It was extremely hot, and I was beginning to feel physically unable to cope. My anxiety was also flaring up, so I squatted down on the ground. The security guard came over and said: “Move over a little. Cars come and go at the entrance, and if they can’t see you squatting here, they might hit you.” I thought to myself: I am here to exercise my rights, not to play the victim and stage a fake accident. So I moved aside a little.

After squatting for another five minutes, at around 10:25 a.m., a male staff member came out to receive the lawyer and me into the lobby. He was wearing a green, white and light-brown striped polo shirt and had no work identification on him. A female staff member was also sitting in the reception room. She was wearing white and a mask, and likewise had no work identification on her. Neither of them proactively introduced themselves; they first checked the lawyer’s and my identification documents.

“It is enough for you to know that we are staff members of the administrative reconsideration office”

After sitting down, I briefly went over again the submission of my reconsideration application and the documents I had submitted. The male staff member said: “Under Article 30 of the Administrative Reconsideration Law, if after five working days you have not received a notice of non-acceptance, the application is deemed accepted. Your case is indeed under review, and I am the case handler. We received all the documents you sent, and I have read them all.”

The lawyer asked how the two should be addressed. The male staff member said: “We are simply staff members of the administrative reconsideration office.” The lawyer asked again: “Could you tell us your surnames? There are many staff members in the department. If we need to ask about the progress of our case later, whom should we contact?” The other party said: “The administrative reconsideration decision does not bear the name of the specific case handler at the end, unlike a court judgment. So it is enough for you to know that we are staff members of the reconsideration office.”

I specifically looked into this afterward. Article 45 of the Administrative Reconsideration Law requires work identification to be shown in circumstances involving investigation and evidence collection; regarding reception, file review and hearing opinions, the law indeed does not expressly require officials to show their identification or give their names. But this has one very practical consequence: I lost a clear contact person. If I left this time, I would still only be able to call to ask about the progress later—as on June 11, when the person who answered was very courteous and made clear promises, but the fact remains that there was no reply afterward.

Only after going to the site did I receive the case number for the first time

I explained that I had come today to review the files and apply for an in-person hearing of opinions. The case handler asked me to fill out a file-review information form, which required the case number, the name of the person reviewing the files and the time of the review. He also told me that within five working days after reviewing the files, I could submit an opinion letter concerning the respondent’s reply. I said that I had not received a notice of acceptance and did not know the case number. The female staff member beside him gave me the case number: (2026) 1364. Only then did I learn my case number. The Administrative Reconsideration Law places “convenience and service to the people” among its principles. This case had been deemed accepted on June 10; I had called and then sent an Inquiry Letter, but there had been no response—until July 6, when the lawyer and I ran to the site in Jinan under the scorching sun, and I learned it for the first time. The case number is the most basic information I need for every step going forward, yet I had to make the trip myself nearly a month later to obtain it.

After I finished filling out the form, the case handler took out a document and said: “Everything else is what you submitted. This is the respondent’s written reply.”

I asked: “Can I make a copy of this?”

He said: “You can take photographs. The Reconsideration Law provides that you may make copies, but we do not have copying equipment here. Just take pictures with your phone.”

I photographed it page by page. The respondent’s written reply was 19 pages in total, 13 of which were documents I had submitted to the Prison Administration and had been included as evidentiary materials. The actual content of the respondent’s reply consisted of one sheet of paper and two paragraphs.

Next, the case handler said he had received the several procedural applications I had submitted and explained to me that applications to add a third party, for a hearing and for an advisory opinion would all have to be reviewed by them in accordance with the law and decided only after considering the circumstances of the case.

Hearing opinions in person

He then said that, under the regulations, they could hear opinions in person and asked whether there was anything not written in the materials that needed to be added on site.

I said that I would first reiterate the applications and evidence I had already submitted. When I spoke about the application for a hearing, I mentioned specific facts concerning the contradictions in the respondent’s conduct. He interrupted me and said: “All of this is already written in your materials, and I have read it all carefully.” He even repeated one or two sentences from my documents on the spot—he had indeed read them. I understood that, procedurally, “hearing opinions” meant hearing additions. But after several exchanges, the facts about the Prison Administration’s conduct that I wanted to emphasize in person were all classified as “already included in your materials.” I was not allowed to check the record of what I said orally on site. I do not know how these words will be “recorded in the case in accordance with the law.”

After being interrupted, I turned to the issue of the advisory opinion and said: The reason I have gone as far as administrative reconsideration is that the marriage application has become stuck in buck-passing between departments—the prison and the Prison Administration push me toward the civil affairs department, but the civil affairs department expressly provides that prisoners must be present in person to register, while prisoners cannot get out. Going around in circles, this most basic right to marry has remained impossible to realize. It involves how several provisions of the Prison Law and the Marriage Registration Regulations fit together, which is why I applied for an advisory opinion.

The lawyer then made two points.

First, concerning differential treatment. We had already submitted a large number of cases involving prisoners in Shandong registering marriages—the prison system has consistently publicized assistance for prisoners seeking to marry as an achievement in family-affection assistance and education, but in this particular application, no one has handled it or responded for more than a year, claiming that it does not fall within their area of business. This violates both the prison system’s consistent pattern of conduct and ordinary human reason, and in substance deprives the two of us of our right to marry. How should the respondent explain this obvious differential treatment? What is the basis for the exceptional treatment?

Second, concerning why we applied for a hearing. The lawyer said that the Prison Administration had repeatedly emphasized that this did not fall within its responsibilities. But when I went to Lunan Prison at the end of March to ask about the progress, the head of the prison affairs section said to me in person: The prison had reported the application up last year, but had been waiting for a reply from the administration, so nothing could be done. Then, at the Prison Administration’s office in May, two staff members said both that they had received the report last year and had already “asked the relevant department in Beijing” to reply to me, and that it was outside their responsibilities. Yet in the written reply this time, they did not mention a word about “whether they had received the report and what they did with it afterward.” The accounts given by these parties do not match one another, and the matter cannot be clarified through written exchanges alone. Only through a hearing, with Lunan Prison explaining in person—was the application actually reported? If it was reported, how did the Prison Administration handle it?—can this be clarified. Given this series of abnormal actions, together with the application having been delayed for so long, is there reason to suspect that they had in fact already made a decision that it was “not allowed,” but had simply never informed the parties in writing? These matters can only be clarified if all the parties appear and conduct an in-person examination of the evidence.

The case handler said that he had recorded all of the lawyer’s and my opinions one by one.

Next, the case handler asked me two questions.

“Which department in Beijing was it, exactly?”

First, concerning the “relevant department in Beijing.” He confirmed with me: “Is it really true that no relevant department in Beijing informed you of anything?”

I said: “No. And from beginning to end, they [the Prison Administration] never made clear which department in Beijing it was or under what procedure it was supposed to inform me.”

He asked: “They did not clearly say which department it was?”

I said: “That’s right. At the time they asked me, and I said I had not received any notification. They then said, ‘There is an ambiguity here; we will make a note of it’—meaning that they had indeed followed it up, but I said they had not. They also emphasized that they would follow up. But to this day, they have never replied to me with the result of that follow-up. I went back and checked the regulations. My marriage application procedure is still entirely within Shandong Province; I could not find how, or through which legal procedure, Beijing became involved. I am also waiting for them to explain this clearly.”

I really cannot complete the step of “appearing in person” alone

The second question concerned my telephone consultation with the civil affairs department. He asked very specifically—how I had phrased my question on the call, which civil affairs bureau I had called, and whether the bureau had expressly said that prisoners had to be present. I said that at the time I had simply called to ask about the basic process for prisoners registering a marriage; I had clearly described in my application for administrative reconsideration how the civil affairs bureau had responded. I also honestly stated that I had not preserved the call record.

The lawyer added that the requirement that prisoners be present in person for registration did not actually require a telephone inquiry; it was clearly written in the Marriage Registration Regulations. I also recalled the Marriage Registration Regulations and Shandong policy documents that I had looked up last year, and said that I could submit the relevant civil affairs department regulations as supplementary evidence along with the other materials.

The case handler then asked: “The Marriage Registration Regulations have been newly revised, haven’t they?” The lawyer said: “Both the regulations before and after the revision require both parties to appear in person.”

The lawyer continued: “As for how to complete the registration, the cases submitted list it very clearly. There are simply two possible routes: either the civil affairs department goes to the prison to handle the procedures, in which case the prison must coordinate for the non-prisoner to be present; or the prison coordinates for the prisoner to go to the civil affairs department. Either way, the prison system has to take the initiative to coordinate and act. So many existing cases have been completed, showing that they have handled this many times and that it is not difficult for them—but this one just cannot be completed.”

In conclusion, the case handler said: “I have truthfully recorded everything you and the lawyer said today; we will proceed with the subsequent procedures in accordance with the law; after reviewing the procedural applications you submitted, we will promptly notify you within the prescribed time limit of anything we deem appropriate; once you receive the decision on the matter, you also have statutory channels for relief.”

“You have depression; you need to adjust your mindset”

At the end, he specifically reminded me that procedures must be conducted in accordance with the law and regulations. I did not respond at the time. What I was thinking was: The phrase “in accordance with the law and regulations” did not seem like something that should be said only to me, the applicant who has been running around for more than a year and still has no written decision whatsoever.

We finished our on-site discussion at about 11 a.m. On the way out, the case handler chatted with me and asked whether I currently had an employer. I said no, that I was at home recovering from illness, that my health was poor and that I also had depression. He said: “Then you must take better care of yourself.” I half-jokingly said: “This matter is my biggest source of distress right now. If it can be completed smoothly, perhaps my illness will get better faster.” He said: “You see, you have depression, so you also need to adjust your mindset.” I was somewhat at a loss for words: “How else can I adjust it? From beginning to end, my only request has been that we be treated in accordance with the law. That is not too much to ask, is it?”

I have heard words like “adjust your mindset” many times in various settings over the past few years. They are accustomed to turning one unlawful problem after another into a personal emotional problem, as though the crux of the impasse lay in my feelings rather than in the unlawful conduct. A person who has spent more than a year running around and whose request has remained at the bottom line of “handle it in accordance with the law” does not need to be lectured about having what kind of “good mindset.”

Administrative reconsideration opinion letter: Putting that day’s events on the record, point by point

After returning home, on July 7, I first organized the process of reviewing the files and making statements on site the previous day into a written record, and then wrote an Administrative Reconsideration Opinion Letter. First, I put in black and white the various procedural matters of that day and the statements made by both sides; second, I provided written responses to the two matters the case handler had asked me about in person. Regarding “whether any relevant department in Beijing had informed me,” I wrote that if the reconsideration authority considered this point in need of clarification, it could verify it with the respondent in accordance with the law—who exactly had supposedly been “arranged to notify” me, by what means, and whether there was any proof. Regarding my telephone consultation with the civil affairs department, I made one point clear: the requirement that prisoners be present in person for registration is expressly written in the current laws, regulations and normative documents, and does not need to be proven by that telephone call of mine. For this reason, I also submitted excerpts from the relevant civil affairs department regulations as supplementary materials, proving that the step of “appearing in person” is something I absolutely cannot complete alone, bypassing the prison system.

I also wrote a special section explaining how the respondent’s conduct should be characterized. When I submitted my application for administrative reconsideration at the beginning of June, I relied on the item in Article 11 of the Administrative Reconsideration Law concerning “refusing to perform, failing to perform in accordance with the law, or failing to respond.” At the beginning of July, the Regulation on the Implementation of the Administrative Reconsideration Law formally took effect, so I also invoked Article 30 of that regulation—it makes a clearer distinction between “failing to respond or failing to perform” and “explicit refusal.” I wanted to make clear once again that my case falls into the former category: failure to perform statutory duties by “failing to respond or failing to perform.” The Prison Administration should have handled the matter and replied to me in writing. This obligation did not arise because I sent an inquiry letter; rather, it was an obligation inherent in the matter of “a prisoner applying to marry,” which itself required handling and an explanation. The applications I submitted over the past year, the mailing records I retained and the records of on-site communications have also fulfilled the evidentiary burden that an applicant should bear in a case involving “inaction.”

Views on examining and challenging the respondent’s reply

On July 8, I began writing my views on examining and challenging the Prison Administration’s reply. Its written reply was only one page, divided into two paragraphs. The first paragraph classified a prisoner’s marriage application as a matter of “execution of criminal penalties,” saying that supervision and guidance of the execution of criminal penalties did not fall within the scope of cases accepted for administrative reconsideration. The second paragraph said that when attorney Zhang Lei and I went to the site on May 15, they had already informed us in person of the relevant circumstances concerning the marriage application, and had already fulfilled their duties of supervision and their obligation to respond.

How can both positions be “valid at the same time”?

I stared at these two paragraphs for a long time. On the one hand, they said, “This matter is not subject to administrative reconsideration”; on the other, they said, “We have already fulfilled our obligation to respond.” However I looked at them, these two statements could not be reconciled. If they acknowledged that they had an obligation to respond and had responded, then whether they had “performed in accordance with the law” was precisely something administrative reconsideration should examine; but if it genuinely did not fall within the scope of administrative reconsideration, why—and how—could they claim that they had “already fulfilled” that obligation? I was not entirely sure about these legal intricacies. I repeatedly asked the lawyer before I dared put them down in the written views on examining and challenging the evidence.

Who would boast of “execution of criminal penalties” as an achievement in assistance and education?

As for the classification as “execution of criminal penalties”: what this case should examine is the Prison Administration’s refusal to handle and failure to respond to the assistance with marriage registration that Lunan Prison had already reported. But is assisting with marriage registration the execution of criminal penalties? On May 15, the two staff members repeatedly told me to go to the civil affairs bureau—amounting to an admission that this matter required the participation of the civil affairs department outside the prison system. If it is a matter of executing criminal penalties, then why did they push me toward the civil affairs bureau? Moreover, every one of the cases involving prisoners in Shandong registering marriages that I submitted was completed through interdepartmental cooperation, and was even publicized as “an achievement in family-affection assistance and education” and “humane law enforcement.” These are terms of administrative management; no one would take “execution of criminal penalties” and boast of it as an achievement in assistance and education.

Blocking us at both ends

Furthermore, regarding this one marriage application, the prison system gave two mutually exclusive reasons for refusal. As to the marriage registration itself, the Prison Administration said that it was “execution of criminal penalties” and could not be subject to administrative reconsideration. But when I went to Lunan Prison in person at the end of March to submit the materials, the head of the prison affairs section refused to accept them on the spot, saying, “You are not a prisoner; the prison has no authority to review this.” Again, there was no written explanation. Taken together, these two reasons have only one effect: the marriage registration, which must be completed jointly by the two of us, is blocked at both ends, leaving this most basic right nowhere to be asserted.

The signature came 40 days after the on-site meeting

As for the claim that it had “already fulfilled” its obligation: neither the Prison Administration’s on-site response nor all the evidence it submitted contained a single written decision or any proof that notification had been “arranged.” The document it submitted, titled “Relevant Circumstances Concerning the On-Site Response,” was dated June 25, 2026—produced only after the reconsideration procedure had begun, rather than being a record from May 15; the entire document was only a few lines long, did not specify any details of the supposed “response,” and was not signed by either party.

Two receipt dates for the same letter

There was another inconsistency: the body of the reply said that it had received my inquiry letter on April 27, while the evidence list later stated that it had been received on April 25. It contradicted itself from the outset. The actual course of events was this: the first two inquiry letters I sent were both signed for on April 18. One, addressed to the office for forwarding to the director, was returned a week later because the recipient refused delivery, so I sent it again to the director personally. The one addressed to the Prison Affairs Administration was followed, on the day after I was notified of its return, by their rushing to retrieve the returned item. A letter that they claimed had nothing to do with their “area of business” was first accepted, then returned and then retrieved. Such repeated handling is very difficult to reconcile with the position that “this is not my responsibility.”

In conclusion

On July 9, I mailed out these two sets of materials and their attachments. The administrative reconsideration office confirmed receipt on July 10. Although I remain in a state of depression and trauma, I am proud of myself for being able to care for myself while patiently and extremely conscientiously taking every procedural step.

I am also especially grateful to my lawyers. During the on-site communication at the Prison Administration last month, I felt that, for the first time, I dared to speak freely on site. The experiences of these past few years harmed something fundamental in a person—the trust that “I can speak truthfully, the other party will hear me accurately, and the truth will protect me.” So I was afraid of “saying the wrong thing,” afraid that “even if I said the right thing, it would be distorted,” afraid that “the more sincere I was, the more I would be exploited.” But with the lawyers present, I gradually came to understand that someone could provide a legal safeguard for me on the spot; the words I spoke would not be replaced by another version; I would not be trapped because I did not know the law; and this would no longer be a scene used to destroy me. I could simply be myself—I was fully prepared, expressing myself sincerely, a party doing everything possible to fight for the right to marry. These new experiences are important to me.