Why We Tell Stories Part 6: The Contract Marriage -- Love Comes Later

Last weekend I caught a douyin drama that could be categorized as a workplace affair among other things. The male lead (Wang Chenpeng) is a commercial pilot, offspring of a conglomerate and the female lead (Zhao Xixi), is an aviation doctor who has been crushing on the male lead since they were kids. One night after a welcome party, the two hook up and begin a colleagues with benefits relationship at a local hotel. After two years of being bedmates and nothing else, the disillusioned female lead suggest that they go their separate ways. They do for a brief moment only for her to experience terrible morning sickness soon afterwards. Soon they find themselves in a contract relationship situation. For the sake of giving the unborn child status, they decide to marry but keep it a secret from their peers. In such a situation, the leads come with a lot of baggage. She has seemingly unrequited feelings for him but believes him to be still pining for his former girlfriend who comes rampaging back into his life just at the most inopportune moment. Captain Gao is more of an enigma. His feelings towards Shen Yaochu are harder to read. On the surface he appears to be going through the motions out of obligation. Or does Gao Yuchuan himself not know his own heart? This marks the start of a prolonged angsty push and pull of wrong assumptions and miscommunication — deliberate or accidental.

There are dozens upon dozens of contract relationship stories plastered all over the web but what strikes me as interesting about this one is how it demonstrates in vivid terms that attraction, feelings, desire and sexual intimacy are not the foundation for a long-term relationship. The claim being made is that what ultimately holds two people together are trust and commitment. There’s a price to pay when one puts the cart before the horse. It is one of the rare douyin scripts that delve into relationship dysfunction with a non-partisan focus on individual flaws. It’s customary to blame the ML for indifference and neglect but no script should let the FL off the hook for passively allowing others to steer her emotions so she can play the martyr. This contract relationship is full of upheaval and drama not just because of external influences like the pesky ex that can’t take “no” for an answer but largely because trust is absent from the equation. It also exemplifies painfully well that a relationship that has no clear articulated parameters is a breeding ground for disappointment, mistrust and miscommunication.

Contract relationships in fiction are unerringly fascinating for a number of reasons. First of all there’s the question of whether two strangers can exist together on the terms of a transactional arrangement only. As the story usually goes, after a time in close quarters they end up “falling in love” and becoming a “real” couple. Whatever that means, it does beg the question — is any long-term relationship really built on the foundation of mutual attraction? Unlike what the protagonists (and even antagonists) say, the contract relationship narrative appears to disprove that “falling in love” is the key ingredient to its success. Secondly, in a good story (ie. a well-written one) a man and a woman who barely know each other but have shared goals and a modicum of respect for one another can potentially manifest something resembling a functional marriage. The time spent together is certainly a factor because it affords both parties opportunities to observe each other in close quarters for the spark to be ignited. Two people who don’t have feelings for each other at the start of the contract can cultivate feelings through routine activities or major events where they’re required to work together. Even the most poorly generated douyin scripts acknowledge that without trust, all the “correct” feelings in the world are doomed to plunge into the pit of despair.

A douyin contract relationship come in different shapes and sizes — flash marriages, forced marriage, substitute brides, arranged marriages, the aftermath of a one night stand but the quandary is more or less the same.

Although contract relationship tropes allegedly begins with deception, there is nothing inherently wrong with a marital alliance for practical benefits. Modern marriages (so do fictional characters) insist on love (by which they mean strong feelings of attraction) as both the criteria and crucial element which is why a marriage formed in business-like fashion seems to be “wrong” or “fake”. Third parties (commonly labelled as second leads) in these stories are not entirely wrong when they persist in thinking that a lack of love now doesn’t mean that love can’t come later. The difference however is that the protagonists have already determined their future spouses — stated or unstated — and no one can get in their way. Not even a former 青梅竹马 childhood sweetheart or an ex can get in the way. The dramas try to explain away these contradictions/anomalies with the fated lovers trope but the presentations themselves suggest that human agency has a vital part to play.

In the contract relationship the “lie” becomes “real”. So it seems. But perhaps not. Clearly it was never a lie to begin with when the right combination of factors were at its foundation. In a contract relationship, terms and conditions are laid out clearly before the signatures find their way to the end of the document. Many of the better contract relationship stories see the leads shaking hands saying “Here’s to a happy collaboration. 合作愉快.” The leads see themselves in a partnership albeit a short-term one. But even with mere collaborators there must be loyalty and trust for that relationship to flourish. Even if self-interest is the starting point, smart people know that you still have to protect your partners if you want the collaboration to succeed.

In the douyin dramas contract relationships are formed around revenge (some sort of business interest involved), meddling family elders, crippling debt and children. The vengeful female often enter into a hypergamous scenario to deal with the aforementioned situations. Occasionally too the FL initiates a contract with the CEO who is sickly or disabled and promises that she can make him whole again. For the most part, romance is not part of the deal but love develops. It complicates things with an added dimension. When a vengeful female protagonist develops genuinely deep affection for the unsuspecting man she roped into her scheme for his clout, she is torn between obligation and staying the course and an overwhelming desire to change her trajectory. Her motivations soon change and come into conflict with her stated goals. Indeed the disruption to the status quo is the point of the contract relationship. Things have to in order that the two people entangled get what they truly need and not what they thought they wanted. Revenge might be the catalyst but the love of family is the soothing salve for an angry soul in search of justice. Another protagonist might be seeking the truth about the death of a relative so she draws the CEO into her web only for him to love her despite all his initial misgivings. Her connection with him quickly leads them to a can of worms regarding her birth. From a utilitarian relationship her blossoming relationship with the CEO allows her to gain much more than what she ever imagined. In some cases his role is to help her regain what she’s lost as they bulldoze their way through a myriad of seemingly intractable obstacles and even to protect what was truly theirs to begin with.