The English title is perhaps a more elegant expression for what this show is really about. To the romantically minded this is about a substitute bride volunteering for a political marriage that changes the man who reshapes the geographical landscape. My title would be something crude like “How to Domesticate a War Lord” because this is what these episodes are largely about. As I’ve said on numerous occasions, the mainland has a marriage problem and these productions are made to address the issue. People aren’t getting married. And if they tie the knot, the knot gets untied sooner rather than later.
For me, The Prisoner of Beauty is an unserious historical drama that follows pretty much the template of marriage first love later narrative so common in short dramas today. No doubt it’s highly entertaining, peppered with lots of cheese and humour, mostly at the expense of Wei Shao aka Zhonglin and his garrulous subordinate, Wei Liang. It’s a double-edged sword. For me, using Zhonglin as the husband-in-training diminishes more than humanizes him. It’s one thing for Wei Liang to be comic relief while he courts Xiao Tao (Manman’s maid), it’s another thing for Zhonglin, the warlord to occupy that space from time to time.
Watching Zhonglin riding his training wheels reminds me too much of far too many short C dramas featuring the domineering CEO who turns into a puddle of goo once he meets the right lady. There’s nothing wrong with the lady of the house helping to tamper some of excesses demonstrated by his lordship but to turn him into an object of ridicule is a reminder that we’re watching a historical drama made palatable for modern sensibilities. Zhonglin might be a leader of men but as far as his wife is concerned he’s a clueless clot. He must be schooled in the art of husbanding because men everywhere need him as their role model.
There’s certainly amusement to be had from recognizing all the missteps. Men are from Mars and women are from Venus afterall. The unspoken expectations, the lack of communication, the silent treatment, the spurts of angry exchanges. Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt.
What’s more fascinating is Liu Duanduan’s Shiyuan. His falling for Manman is, not surprising and perhaps inevitable. Manman is close to being perfect. More importantly she gets him. For too long he’s been living under the protection of his maternal grandmother and younger cousin. He’s been willing to play second fiddle and live the life of a dissipated wanderer but he’s a hidden force under that cavalier mask. He has to man up and shoulder the responsibility not necessarily on his father’s terms but certainly to be the man whose time has come. The scene in Episode 29 where he handily takes on the generals of Bianzhou at a tavern is telling. It’s not that Shinyuan can’t, it’s just that he adamantly doesn’t want to for a whole host of reasons. He doesn’t want to have to stand in opposition to the people who raised him. He doesn’t want to be his father’s son. And perhaps he doesn’t want to be someone else’s pawn used strategically against his cousin. Has he kept his abilities under wraps because he fears what he will become? A man after the image of his father?
Those who say they belong to nowhere and bemoan their displacement at every opportunity have a ton of grievances. They feel ill used and disposable. Perhaps with some justification. The ready-made victim narrative is co-opted by them and allows them to justify all the terrible things they inflict on others. Lady Yulou like all C drama Green Teas is an imposter who covets her neighbour’s possessions. Her “empress” tattoo is a scam and her identity attached to it. Just in case anyone misses it the first and second times, she’s constantly comparing herself to Manman. Her refrain is that whatever Manman has can be hers too. It’s not for lack of trying that she fails. In the face of authenticity and intelligence, her schemes unravel soon enough. The thing is… Lady Yulou isn’t as clever as she thinks she is. Or at least not when she’s up against perceptive opponents. She’s managed to get away with things in the past because of the consideration of others causing her to believe that it’s her smarts and/or destiny giving her plot armour. She's a fraud who has begun to believe her own press. Which is deadly. It’s a mistake on the part of the leads to let her go with a slight disfigurement. Green Teas never learn their lesson because they’ve done nothing wrong in their own minds. It’s always someone else’s fault that they’ve fallen on hard times. Framing herself as a victim gives her carte blanche to lie, scheme and murder. She can live a pretty good life up in the mountain with the goodies Zhonglin dispenses generously but no, she has to be the wife of a ruler.
The “poor me” framing also afflicts Manman’s cousin Liu Yang of Liangya. Lady Yulou weaves her tale of woe to elicit sympathy and she succeeds. It’s not hard as he’s a man full of resentment in part due to how he was treated by his father, in part due to his uncle’s relentless chafing of his entitlements. He’s not a great talent and it’s dangerous that he’s driven by a need to prove himself. It means that he’s willing to sacrifice others to prove a point. Then there’s also the matter of patricide.
Water security is under threat as the war drums beat in the distance. People need something to fight over so it’s the canal. For the leads it’s supposedly the great unifier but for others it’s an area of vulnerability to take advantage of.
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LOL I think your title is perfect. They stripped Zhonglin of everything that made him interesting. Like you, I was drawn to Shiyuan and thought his emergence added some life to the story. It's a shame because all the ingredients to a great story with compelling characters are all there.