Zhe Yao (折腰) surprise-released on April 13. Adapted from Penglaike's beloved novel, this historical romance starring Song Zu'er and Liu Yuning merges battlefield grit with aching tenderness, all wrapped in a production so lavish. But what truly sets it apart? It's a love story where the couple's greatest enemy isn't warring clans or political betrayal—it's their own guarded hearts.
A Marriage Built on Blood and Lies
Set during the fractured Three Kingdoms period, Zhe Yao follows Wei Shao (Liu Yuning, 刘宇宁), a warlord hellbent on avenging his father's murder, and Xiao Qiao (Song Zu'er, 宋祖儿), the shrewd noblewoman forced to marry him as part of a fragile alliance. Their wedding night sets the tone: she hides a dagger in her bridal sash; he sleeps with a sword beneath their pillows. This isn't romance—it's a hostage negotiation disguised as a marriage.
Yet as clan wars escalate and hidden enemies emerge, Wei and Xiao find themselves reluctantly aligned. Their icy partnership thaws into something far more dangerous—a bond forged not through grand gestures, but through shared glances across war councils and silent compromises in moonlit courtyards. Fans of The King's Woman or Scarlet Heart will recognize the ache of love blooming in impossible circumstances, but Zhe Yao adds a twist: here, vulnerability is the ultimate power play.
Liu Yuning: The Warlord Who Redefined Masculinity
At 190cm tall, Liu Yuning doesn't just play Wei Shao—he looms over the role like a storm cloud. Fresh off his breakout in A Journey to Love (一念关山), Liu strips away the "brooding hero" clichés to reveal a man fractured by loss. Watch how he delivers lines like "Mercy is a luxury for the weak" with a clenched jaw, yet softens imperceptibly when Xiao Qiao enters the room.
His physicality is equally magnetic. In a grueling battle scene filmed in Inner Mongolia's freezing plains, Liu performed his own horseback stunts, wielding a 15-pound spear with lethal precision. But the true standout is a quiet moment in Episode 9: discovering Xiao Qiao's secret letters, Wei Shao's hands tremble as he smooths the crumpled paper, his rage dissolving into something raw and unrecognizable—grief.
Song Zu'er: From Ingenue to Political Puppet Master
Song Zu'er, once known for bubbly roles, undergoes a metamorphosis as Xiao Qiao. Don't let her character's delicate features fool you—this is a woman who negotiates peace treaties while pouring tea and outmaneuvers assassins using coded poetry. Her genius lies in subtlety: a raised eyebrow during a council meeting, a strategically dropped handkerchief that exposes a traitor.
In Episode 5, Xiao Qiao faces her ultimate test. Cornered by enemy soldiers, she doesn't scream or fight. Instead, she removes her hairpin and calmly begins sketching a map in the dirt, buying time until reinforcements arrive. Song plays the scene with eerie calm, her voice steady even as the camera lingers on her bloodied fingertips. It's a masterclass in portraying strength through stillness.
Chemistry That Ignites the Screen
The duo's 30cm height difference isn't just a visual gag—it becomes a metaphor for their emotional divide. Early episodes highlight this contrast: Wei Shao towers over Xiao Qiao during arguments, his shadow engulfing her like a threat. But as trust builds, the camera angles shift. By Episode 12, they're framed as equals, their silhouettes merging against desert sunsets.
Two scenes epitomize their evolution:
The Blindfolded Kiss: Trapped in a sandstorm, Wei Shao covers Xiao Qiao's eyes before kissing her—a gesture that's equal parts protection and possession. The scene, filmed in a single take, ends with sand clinging to their intertwined fingers, symbolizing the grit and imperfection of their bond.
The Throne Room Confrontation: Xiao Qiao publicly slaps a corrupt minister, then smiles innocently: "Apologies, my hand slipped." Wei Shao, hiding a smirk, orders the man's arrest. It's the first time they're undeniably on the same side—and the audience roars.
Grandeur Meets Intimacy
Deng Ke, the maverick behind The Legend of Shen Li (与凤行), avoids the pompous gravitas of typical historical dramas. Instead, he injects wit and warmth into every frame. A battle sequence might cut abruptly to a servant gossiping about the leads' late-night "sword practice". Even the sets tell stories: Wei Shao's war room, cluttered with maps and half-empty wine cups, mirrors his chaotic mind, while Xiao Qiao's sunlit study, filled with herbal remedies and half-finished poems, reveals her duality as healer and schemer.
The costumes alone deserve awards. Xiao Qiao's wedding gown, embroidered with 10,000 stitches of gold thread, took six months to create. But the real showstopper is her "war council robe"—a deceptively simple azure dress that subtly darkens to navy as her political influence grows. Liu's armor, meanwhile, was forged from authentic oxidized iron. "It weighed 40 pounds and smelled like a rusty truck," he joked in an interview, "but when you put it on, you stop acting and start being a warlord."
Zhe Yao cleverly subverts historical tropes. Rituals like the tea ceremony—often reduced to decorative scenes—become psychological battlegrounds. In Episode 3, Xiao Qiao serves tea to Wei Shao's skeptical generals, her hands steady as she explains, "This blend clears the mind of doubts." Seconds later, a traitor collapses, poisoned by his own cup. The message? Never underestimate a woman who knows her herbs.
The series also explores the paradox of "family honor." When Wei Shao's aunt (a scene-stealing Liu Xiaoqing, 刘晓庆) orders Xiao Qiao's execution, citing clan loyalty, Xiao retorts, "Honor didn't feed the orphans during the famine." It's a quiet rebellion that resonates in any era.
Critics initially dismissed Zhe Yao as "Bridgerton with swords," arguing that its arranged marriage plot romanticizes oppression. But the show's defenders fire back: "Xiao Qiao chooses Wei Shao daily, even when she could flee. That's not Stockholm syndrome—that's strategy." The debate rages on Douyin, where clips of Xiao outsmarting her enemies rack up millions of saves with captions like "Marry her? No, hire her."
