Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues with majestic pointed horns, splendid scaly hides, and rainbow-hued irises,
After countless sleepless nights and pouring my heart and soul into this work, I have finally completed the second part of A Match Made in Resentment . Here, I must extend my deepest gratitude to Mr. Xin Xiong for his unwavering support. Without his patience in guiding my thoughts time and again, allowing me to grasp the hem of inspiration’s robe in moments of despair, none of you would be witnessing this fresh new installment today.
I would also like to thank many others—such as Brother Tao Guoguo, who often tore my operatic scripts to shreds, forcing me to rediscover my creative spark; Miss Ying Lian, who recently insisted I rewrite the leads as a bear demon and a lotus spirit; Mr. Si Lan, who sharpened my resolve with his biting words daily; and, of course, the very muse of this tale, Miss Xin Mei.
Without your relentless torment—both mental and physical—there would be no new A Match Made in Resentment today! Nor would there be a reborn Zhao Guanren, transcending his former self!
I still have so much more to say—
“—Shut it, you old windbag!”
A bag of melon seed shells smacked Zhao Guanren on the head, followed by a barrage of loquat pits, watermelon rinds, teacups, and straw sandals. Bruised and battered, he rolled offstage as the lanterns dimmed one by one. Then, gracefully emerging, appeared the exquisitely crafted puppet Xiao Mei.
Before her surged endless white waves—Xiao Mei, heartbroken by the general in the previous installment, now sought to end her life by leaping into the river.
Before the plunge, she struck a pose, swaying precariously as her sleeves fluttered, spinning twice before facing the roaring waves to recite a mournful love poem with utter despair.
“Qianqiao, I await you beneath the depths—come water, and I’ll wait in its embrace. Come fire, and I’ll wait in the ashes…”
With a sweep of her sleeve, she veiled her peerless beauty, her delicate form tracing a tragic arc through the air—she jumped! (Xin Mei spat out melon seeds: A heroine who prattles on and strikes a pose before dying? Nine times out of ten, she won’t succeed. )
At the critical moment, a melodious cry of the Paradise Bird echoed across the sky. Amid golden radiance, an indescribably handsome young man soared into view, spinning once—then twice—before catching the suicidal Xiao Mei midair and spiraling down like a top to the riverbank. (Lu Qianqiao crushed a walnut: Who bought this new puppet?! Who allowed the High Priest to be this stunning?! )
“Young lady, life is short—seek joy while you can. Nothing in this world is worth taking your own life for.”
Tenderly, the High Priest brushed stray locks from her forehead.
Stunned by his celestial beauty, Xiao Mei’s heart raced as she murmured dazedly, “How could such a peerless man exist in this world…?”
Her dazed expression drew a roguish smile from the High Priest. He leaned in until their noses nearly touched.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked.
(Xin Mei: He must actually be hideous, right? That’s why he wears so many masks—unable to face his true self. The self-deception runs deep. )
Xiao Mei snapped back to reality, blushing furiously as she struggled in his arms. “Let me go! Let me go!”The High Priest laughed heartily, restraining her struggling body. "I am a monk devoted to spiritual cultivation, willing to listen to the sorrows in your heart. Come, let’s talk in the carriage."
Without allowing any resistance, he forcibly took her onto the ornate Long Carriage.
Under the High Priest’s mix of coercion and tenderness, Xin Mei soon poured out her troubles. The High Priest was both shocked and delighted—truly, what one had sought in vain was now effortlessly obtained. It turned out that the Youhu Clan, to which the High Priest belonged, had a generations-old feud with the general’s War Ghost Clan. Having long lacked a breakthrough, the general’s woman falling into his hands now was nothing short of a heaven-sent opportunity.
With sinister intentions, the High Priest treated Xin Mei with utmost gentleness and care. From personally tying her hair and fastening her clothes to adorning her with flowers—all the old tropes were employed. Once, when Xin Mei fell ill and the physician declared her beyond cure unless blessed by the blood of a divine being, the High Priest unhesitatingly slit his wrist and filled a vat with his blood. Through drinking and bathing in it, he managed to pull her back from the brink of death. (Lu Qianqiao: Keep an eye on Zhao Guanren. If the Youhu Clan ever sees this play, he’s a dead man.)
Xin Mei gradually succumbed to the High Priest’s tenderness, and her devotion to the general began to waver. One day, the fox spirits and gossip immortals who had heard of Xin Mei’s abandonment by the general came looking for her, bringing news that shattered her heart: the general, obeying his mother’s arrangement, was to marry a noblewoman of the War Ghost Clan that very day. (Scene shift to the general’s bridal chamber.)
In the jubilant, crimson-hued bridal chamber, the general was drinking the ceremonial wine with his bride. A voiceover played: [So it has come to this. My mother threatened Xin Mei’s life, forcing me to abandon the woman I love most and marry a stranger from the War Ghost Clan. Hate me, Xin Mei! I’d rather you hate me with every fiber of your being than forget me! For the sake of continuing the bloodline of the Perfect War Devil, we cannot be so selfish… Though my body belongs to a stranger, my soul will always be with you!]
Lifting the bride’s veil, the general, overwhelmed with joy, pushed her down and tore off her wedding robes… The candlelight flickered red as the bed curtains swayed with their passion. The general ravished his bride a hundred times over. Far away, a peach blossom placed by Xin Mei’s bedside quietly withered. (Lu Qianqiao: So in this play, I’m perpetually in the act of ravishing someone?)
The scene shifted again. Upon learning of the general’s new marriage, Xin Mei was devastated. In the dead of night, clad only in a thin silk robe, half-dazed and half-despairing, she floated up to a high platform, twirling and fluttering her sleeves, ready to leap to her death.
The High Priest, hot on her heels, rescued her once more, clashing with the fox spirits and gossip immortals who had arrived upon hearing the commotion. Streaks of white light flashed as the three fought fiercely in midair. (Xin Mei: Aside from getting struck by lightning, does Lord Meishan have any other special abilities?)
The High Priest proved formidable, defeating the fox spirits and gossip immortals single-handedly, though he himself was gravely injured and left barely alive. Xin Mei, with mixed emotions, tended to him meticulously. In the process of caring and being cared for, an illicit affair blossomed.
"Marry me. I can give you a rightful place! Forget that heartless general. If you can’t, I’ll bring you his head to bury what remains of your fragile feelings."
The High Priest clasped Xin Mei’s hand tightly, pledging his lifelong vow."I will love you all my life, never leaving or abandoning you, and never letting you feel heartbroken."
Xin Mei was torn between choices, but the High Priest had no patience to wait any longer—so the lights went out, and a forceful consummation began to unfold.
"No! I don’t want this! If—if you keep going, I’ll scream for help!" Xin Mei struggled half-heartedly, feigning resistance.
"Go ahead and scream! Everyone here is mine. No one will come to save you even if you scream your throat raw!"
The High Priest tore her clothes apart.
Two streams of helpless, despairing tears rolled down Xin Mei’s cheeks as she watched her garments turn to tatters, fluttering wildly in the air.
(Xin Mei: Why isn’t she screaming her throat raw?)
The High Priest was well-versed in these matters, using his body to teach her all sorts of techniques—three shallow, one deep; nine shallow, one deep; Guanyin Sitting on a Lotus, Embracing the Moon in One’s Arms… Xin Mei went from resistance to submission, climaxing over and over through her tears, until she was utterly conquered, body and soul. (Lu Qianqiao: Am I overthinking this? Is Zhao Guanren not mocking me…?)
Determined to forget the past, Xin Mei agreed to marry the High Priest. Far away, the general somehow heard the news and flew into a rage for his beloved. Offstage narration: She is mine in life and mine in death! I’d rather she hate me than let another man have her!
Thus began the war between the Youhu Clan and the War Ghost Clan, each fighting fiercely for the sake of that peerlessly beautiful woman, leaving countless dead and wounded in their wake. (Zhao Guanren roared backstage: No more chicken blood! Quick, splash the prepared cinnabar! Cinnabar, cinnabar! Whoever uses chicken blood can go kill themselves!)
Xin Mei was heartbroken. Offstage narration: Ah, what a sinful woman I am! So many innocent lives lost because of me—how can I bear this burden? I should never have been born. Without me, you wouldn’t be slaughtering each other. Yes, if only I didn’t exist! This time, I must end it all! I must!
Xin Mei rushed alone to the front lines of the war, where the two men were locked in a life-and-death battle. The moment she laid eyes on the general—whom she hadn’t seen in days—tears of heartbreak, wild joy, and longing spilled from her eyes.
The general said, "Xin Mei! I’ve already secured an heir for the War Ghost Clan! I’m free now—come away with me!"
The High Priest said, "You are already my wife. Come home with me!"
Swallowing her bitter tears, Xin Mei walked tearfully to the High Priest’s side, then turned back to give the general a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. "Qianqiao, everything between us is over. You always made me wait for you, but I’m tired now—I can’t wait any longer. Just let me go."
With that, she took the High Priest’s arm and turned to leave.
In his shock and fury, the general lashed out with his whip toward the emotionally vulnerable and unprepared High Priest. Xin Mei threw herself in the way, and the merciless whip snapped her spine. Like a fragile white flower, she spun wildly in the wind, ethereal and dreamlike, before finally collapsing tragically to the ground.
"No—!"
The anguished cries of both men rang out simultaneously.
The audience below was now in tears. This climactic scene was Zhao Guanren’s proudest work. He peeked out from backstage, eager to see the general and Xin Mei’s reactions—only to find the two front-row center seats completely empty!Zhao Guanren turned pale with fright and grabbed a nearby Demon: "Where's the General?! When did he leave?"
The Demon wiped away tears while sobbing: "He left when the blood ran like a river."
Could it be that this play had displeased the General again?! Zhao Guanren grew uneasy.
The two who made him uneasy were currently nestled in the empty kitchen. Lu Qianqiao kneaded dough in a basin while Xin Mei shaped the kneaded dough into dumplings, their hands covered in flour.
"Are you sure it's fine to miss the rest?"
Lu Qianqiao felt somewhat ashamed. He hadn't eaten much in the morning, and his stomach had growled earlier—just loud enough for Xin Mei to hear. She had then dragged him to the kitchen to make something to eat. He knew she loved watching puppet shows, often forgetting to eat or sleep during the exciting parts.
"It's too noisy out there. Not worth watching."
Xin Mei cheerfully shaped a little white rabbit from the dough and presented it to him proudly: "Look! Isn't it cute? I'll steam this one for you."
He smiled, hesitated for a moment, then pinched off a piece of dough and painstakingly shaped a tiger to give to her: "Then this one's for you."
Xin Mei frowned, staring at it for a long while before saying: "This... turtle? Loach? Uh, it's... unique."
"......"
Lu Qianqiao silently crushed the poor tiger back into the dough.
Xin Mei wiped her face, only to smear more flour across it. Lu Qianqiao tried to wipe it off with his sleeve but only made it worse. As he debated whether to wash his hands, a cacophony of gongs, drums, and clashing cymbals erupted from the distant stage—likely the climax of the play—accompanied by the occasional wailing of Demons like crashing waves.
She giggled: "It's so noisy outside. Good thing we got away."
With that, she rubbed her flour-covered hands together and suddenly clapped them onto his face. The two flour-streaked faces stared at each other for a moment before she burst into laughter.
"Mischievous."
Lu Qianqiao curled his lips and flicked her forehead.
Outside, the clamor continued—some fought, some cried, some laughed, some made a ruckus—but none of it concerned them anymore. Let the others have their drama, their love and hatred, their racial conflicts, their fallen nations and broken homes. None of it could compare to the simple joy of watching dumplings they'd made together boil in the pot.
Those were other people's stories, irrelevant to them, irrelevant to the Imperial Mausoleum.
"...Xin Mei, you've already eaten thirty dumplings."
"I'm still not full."
"...We only made thirty in total."
"Uh..."
"Shall we make more?"
"Sure, let's make more. This time you eat first."
......
Zhao Guanren, hiding outside the window, let out a long sigh of relief and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. Suddenly, inspiration struck—he'd decided! He would immediately start writing the next sequel to A Match Made in Resentment !
A Love Tragedy Triggered by a Single Dumpling!
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