Song Zuer's journey—beginning as a fiery child deity in 2009 and maturing into nuanced historical heroines—offers a unique lens through which to explore C-drama's shifting landscapes.
I've curated her most iconic roles that showcase her evolution from child star to versatile leading lady. Here are 5 masterpieces blending visual poetry and storytelling brilliance—perfect for historical/fantasy lovers!
The Demon Hunter's Romance 无忧渡
The Demon Hunter's Romance 无忧渡
- Aired: April 12, 2025
- Period: Fictional Tang-dynasty-inspired world with human-yao (supernatural beings) coexistence
- Genres: Xianxia, romantic fantasy, mystery
- Main Roles: Song Zuer (Banxia), Allen Ren (Xuanye)
- Adapted From: Novel Banxia by Banming Ban'ai
In a Tang Dynasty-inspired realm fractured by mutual distrust between humans and yao (妖, nature spirits), Banxia is an outcast village girl whose ability to perceive spirits brands her a "cursed seer." Her path collides with Xuanye, a disillusioned demon hunter enforcing the Celestial Ministry's brutal purge of rogue yao. When a series of spirit-related disasters threatens both realms—a plague of nightmare-consuming Mengmo (梦魔) in farming villages, and spectral assassins targeting human officials—they form a reluctant pact to investigate. Their quest uncovers a darker truth: a primordial void entity is manipulating historical human-yao resentments to trigger a war. Banxia's evolving power to communicate with spirits (not just see them) becomes key to exposing the real enemy, forcing Xuanye to confront his complicity in systemic oppression.
Moral Complexity as Worldbuilding
The drama rejects simplistic villainy. In Episode 4, a river yao floods a town not from malice, but because humans dammed its tributary for farmland, starving its spirit children. Xuanye's order to exterminate it clashes with Banxia's plea: "When we call them monsters, we forget we made them monstrous." These conflicts reframe "evil" as a consequence of ecological/cultural violence.
Trauma-Driven Character Dynamics
Banxia and Xuanye's tension stems from psychological scars, not romantic tropes:
Villagers stone her home for "attracting spirits" (Ep. 1), forging her empathy for the persecuted.
Xuanye's mentor was killed by a yao he spared, cementing his black-and-white ideology.
Their breakthrough comes not through love, but shared grief—confronting their past-life deaths in Episode 9's spirit-memory sequence.
Director Guo Hao uses environmental storytelling:
Wide shots frame Banxia alone in decaying temples, emphasizing society's rejection.
Xuanye is perpetually backlit in shadows, symbolizing emotional imprisonment.
The void entity manifests as eroded ink in water—a literalization of corruption seeping into their world.
Banxia subverts the "invincible xianxia heroine" with vulnerability as her strength:
Her trembling hands and fractured breaths when calming entities (Ep. 3) reveal terror transformed into resolve.
Healing a corrupted child-yao (Ep. 7), she hums a lullaby from their shared past life—tears syncing with purification light—no dialogue needed.
Song channels her 2023 career exile into Banxia's ostracism, adding raw depth to the redemption arc.
The drama's genius lies in scaling down cosmic stakes to human consequences. The final battle isn't against a god, but against institutionalized prejudice: human leaders profiting from yao hunts, and ancient spirits exploiting generational trauma. Banxia's victory comes not through divine power, but by forcing a ceasefire—exposing how both sides weaponize fear.
"You hunt monsters to feel safe. They hunt you to survive. Tell me—who made the first monster?"
— Banxia's challenge to the Celestial Ministry (Episode 12)
The Prisoner of Beauty 折腰
The Prisoner of Beauty 折腰
- Aired: May 14, 2025
- Period: Warring States-inspired fictional dynasty
- Genres: Historical romance, political intrigue
- Main Roles: Song Zuer (Qiao Man), Liu Yuning (Wei Shao)
- Adapted From: Novel by Penglai Ke
In a war-torn realm mirroring China's Warring States period, noblewoman Qiao Man is sent as a political bride to Wei Shao, a ruthless warlord whose family was massacred by her clan. Her mission: atone for ancestral betrayal and prevent further bloodshed. Yet Qiao Man transcends her role as a sacrificial pawn. Through calculated diplomacy and quiet resilience, she dismantles Wei Shao's hatred—not with submission, but by exposing the human cost of his vengeance. As political factions plot against them, their marriage evolves from a cage of mutual suspicion into a partnership that redefines power dynamics in a fractured world.
Qiao Man wields intelligence as her primary weapon. When confronted with Wei Shao's brutality, she redirects his attention to shared enemies—like the corrupt minister fueling border conflicts (Episode 9). Her victories aren't won on battlefields but in council chambers and ancestral shrines, where she leverages historical texts and kinship rituals to broker peace. This reframes political marriage as strategic alliance-building, rejecting female victimhood.
Song Zuer's background in classical dance informs Qiao Man's physicality. In Episode 5's sword dance sequence—staged as "entertainment" for hostile nobles—her blades slice air with lethal precision, each movement masking intelligence gathering. The choreography merges combat and artistry, symbolizing her dual role as entertainer and strategist.
The series critiques female chastity norms. Qiao Man openly negotiates with male allies, controls her marital bed (rejecting Wei Shao until mutual trust is earned), and dismantles the "jealous wife" stereotype by fostering alliances with his female advisors. Her authority stems from merit, not birthright.
Song's portrayal is a masterclass in controlled subtlety. Qiao Man's emotions manifest through:
Micro-expressions: A flicker of her eyelids when detecting lies; a slight lip tremor when recalling her family's guilt.
In Episode 13, she endures public humiliation from Wei Shao's generals without protest, later dismantling their influence through meticulously planted evidence.
Her posture shifts from rigid formality (early episodes) to relaxed authority as she gains agency. The transformation peaks in Episode 18's bathhouse scene: naked yet commanding, she confronts Wei Shao about his hypocrisy—Song's delivery balancing vulnerability and defiance.
The drama's record-shattering premiere (26,000+ heat index in 8 hours) reflects audience hunger for nuanced female leads. Its success lies in reimagining historical constraints as platforms for ingenuity—Qiao Man's "soft power" tactics mirror modern leadership studies on emotional intelligence over coercion. While grounded in ancient politics, its themes—reconciliation over retaliation, partnership over domination—resonate universally. Song Zuer elevates the role beyond "strong woman" clichés, revealing how true power often whispers.
The Dark Lord 夜天子
The Dark Lord 夜天子
- Aired: 2018
- Period: Ming Dynasty
- Genres: Historical comedy, political adventure
- Main Roles: Song Zuer (Xia Yingying), Xu Haiqiao (Ye Xiaotian)
- Adapted From: Novel by Yue Guan
Set against the gritty backdrop of the Ming Dynasty's corrupt bureaucracy, the series follows Ye Xiaotian, a street-smart rogue who scams his way from a lowly prison guard to a powerful magistrate. His rise isn't fueled by nobility but by cunning—exploiting greed, forging alliances, and manipulating the very system designed to crush the powerless. Enter Xia Yingying, the daughter of a disgraced nobleman. Far from a passive love interest, she becomes Ye's moral anchor and partner-in-crime, using her privileged education to refine his reckless schemes while challenging his self-serving motives. Together, they navigate a world where every official has a price, and justice demands unconventional tactics.
Anti-Hero Narrative in Historical Context
Ye Xiaotian shatters the "righteous hero" trope—he bribes, blackmails, and bends rules without remorse. Yet his war on systemic corruption resonates precisely because of his moral ambiguity. In Episode 8, he frames a corrupt tax collector using fabricated evidence, asking: "When the law eats the poor, who holds the law accountable?" This grey pragmatism mirrors real Ming-era grassroots struggles.
Comedy as Social Commentary
The series weaponizes humor to expose power imbalances. Xia Yingying's "lessons" for Ye—like teaching him aristocratic manners to infiltrate elite circles (Episode 3)—double as satire on class performativity. Physical comedy (e.g., Ye pretending to be possessed to scare superstitious officials) underscores the absurdity of feudal corruption.
Unlike palace-centered dramas, it explores Ming society's underbelly:
Prison gangs colluding with wardens
Village militias resisting land seizures
Merchant guilds bribing magistrates
This micro-level focus humanizes historical class warfare.
At 19, Song delivered Xia Yingying with astonishing nuance, balancing three dimensions:
Her deadpan reactions to Ye's antics (e.g., sighing as he butchers poetry) highlight their odd-couple dynamic. In Episode 6, she "accidentally" spills tea on a lecherous official—her feigned innocence masking deliberate sabotage.
Initially sheltered, Xia evolves into Ye's strategic equal. Song traces this arc through subtle shifts: early scenes show her clutching scrolls like armor; later, she confidently negotiates with gang leaders (Episode 15), her posture relaxed but eyes razor-sharp.
Xia isn't purely virtuous. She rationalizes Ye's lies as "necessary evils," wrestling with her conscience in quiet moments—like silently burning a damning letter to protect innocents (Episode 11). Song conveys this conflict through trembling hands and weighted pauses.
Despite minimal promotion and a modest budget, the drama earned a Douban 7.0+—high for a 2018 historical comedy—thanks to:
Character-Driven Storytelling: No filler subplots; each episode advances Ye and Xia's partnership.
Historical Authenticity: Costumes reflect Ming commoners' hemp fabrics (unlike silk-clad palace dramas), and sets recreate chaotic market towns.
Relevance: Its critique of bureaucratic rot parallels modern disillusionment with systemic injustice.
Song Zuer's performance remains a benchmark for young actors: Xia Yingying proves comedy requires precision, not caricature. As critic Li Meng noted: "She makes goodness compelling—not naïve." In an era of formulaic historicals, The Dark Lord remains a masterclass in balancing levity with depth.
Lotus Lantern Prequel 宝莲灯前传
Lotus Lantern Prequel 宝莲灯前传
- Aired: 2009
- Period: Mythological Shang Dynasty
- Genres: Shenmo (神魔, gods-and-demons fantasy)
- Main Roles: Child Song Zuer (Nezha)
- Adapted From: Chinese folklore
Set in the mythological Shang Dynasty, this foundational shenmo drama reimagines the rebellion of Nezha—a divine child born to military commander Li Jing. Rejecting celestial hierarchy, Nezha defends mortals from the tyrannical East Sea Dragon King, who floods villages to punish human "disrespect." After slaying the Dragon King's son to save a child, Nezha faces divine retribution. In a climactic act of defiance, he dismantles his own flesh to repay his parents, symbolizing the ultimate sacrifice against oppressive fate. His spirit later finds rebirth through a lotus flower, forging a path of redemption that challenges heaven's authority.
The series revitalizes China's mythological canon, portraying Nezha not as a flawless hero but as a complex symbol of resistance. His famous declaration—"My fate is mine to command!"—predates the 2025 film Ne Zha: Birth of the Demon Child's similar theme by 16 years, cementing its pioneering status . Its high rerun rate on CCTV (over 50 broadcasts since 2009) underscores its role as a cultural touchstone for later works like The Investiture of the Gods (封神榜).
Despite a limited 2009 budget, the production used practical effects to create iconic scenes:
Real fire encircled child actors, with Song Zuer performing near-blaze sequences herself.
Manual wave machines simulated the Dragon King's wrath, immersing actors in waist-high water.
The drama interrogates blind obedience to authority. When celestial forces demand Nezha's execution for killing the corrupt dragon prince, his self-dismemberment becomes a critique of "divine justice"—paralleling real-world struggles against systemic oppression . This moral complexity elevated it beyond typical children's programming.
At age 11, Song delivered a debut that redefined child acting in China:
Physical Embodiment of Rebellion: Her Nezha combined razor-sharp spear maneuvers (trained with Peking Opera coaches) with a child's restless energy—skipping through temples or scowling at deities.
The "Golden Pupils Tear" Scene (Episode 19): Facing heavenly soldiers, Nezha's eyes glow gold as a single tear falls. Song conveyed fury, sorrow, and resolve in 10 seconds without dialogue, a moment studied in acting classes for its emotional precision.
Balancing Myth and Humanity: Even during supernatural battles, Song grounded Nezha in relatable traits—petulance when scolded by his teacher, or guilt after accidentally harming villagers. This duality made his sacrifice profoundly tragic.
The role launched Song's career but also set a benchmark for mythological adaptations. Directors of Ne Zha: Birth of the Demon Child (2025) cited her "fierce innocence" as inspiration for the animated Nezha's design . Critic Liang Tianming noted: "She gave gods mortal hearts—a revolution in how we portray divinity" .
Beyond Song's performance, the series pioneered narrative techniques now standard in xianxia:
The Dragon King mourns his son genuinely, blurring villain-hero binaries.
Nezha's self-destruction isn't defeat but reclaiming agency—a template for later heroes like The Untamed's Wei Wuxian.
Children embrace its adventure; adults resonate with its critique of power. This duality fueled its 2023 TikTok revival, with the "Golden Pupils Tear" scene trending as a symbol of resilience.
"I am Nezha—my bones belong to my parents, my blood to the world. Heaven wants my life? Let it try!"
— Nezha's challenge to the Jade Emperor (Episode 24)
As Song Zuer stages her 2025 comeback with The Demon Hunter's Romance, this role remains her spiritual anchor: a testament to art's power to defy fate, both onscreen and off.
Novoland: Eagle Flag 九州缥缈录
Novoland: Eagle Flag 九州缥缈录
- Aired: 2019
- Period: Fantasy-inspired "Novoland" universe; feudal conflicts among tribes
- Genres: Heroic Epic, Political Fantasy, Coming-of-Age
- Main Roles: Liu Haoran (Lü Guichen), Song Zuer (Yu Ran), Chen Ruoxuan (Ji Ye)
- Adapted From Jiang Nan's novel Novoland: Eagle Flag
Set against the sprawling tapestry of the fictional "Novoland," Eagle Flag chronicles the turbulent coming-of-age of three youths bound by fate yet torn by war: Lü Guichen, a frail heir to the nomadic Qingyang tribe sent as a hostage to the Eastern Continent; Ji Ye, an ostracized noble's son desperate to prove his worth; and Yu Ran, the last princess of the winged Feather Clan, who seeks refuge in the kingdom of Xiatang with her aunt, the strategist Gong Yuyi.
Their meeting at a military academy ignites an unbreakable bond, but as warlords like Ying Wuyi ignite conquests across the Nine Provinces, their innocence shatters amidst the bloodshed of the Battle of Shangyang Pass. Forced into roles they never sought, they grapple with loyalty, sacrifice, and the crushing weight of legacy.
What elevates Eagle Flag beyond conventional fantasy epics is its unflinching focus on character-driven tragedy over spectacle. The narrative meticulously traces how war corrodes idealism, particularly through Yu Ran's arc—from a mischievous, cross-dressing rebel who mocks corrupt nobles to a grief-stricken leader who sacrifices personal happiness to become the Divine Eagle Warrior, destined for eternal solitude. This metamorphosis mirrors the series' core theme: heroism is not chosen, but thrust upon the young through loss and betrayal.
The world-building, enriched by Jiang Nan's source novel, grounds its grandeur in tangible details: nomadic tribes clashing with agrarian empires, ancient secret societies manipulating thrones, and cultural tensions that fuel political intrigue.
Song Zuer's portrayal of Yu Ran stands as the series' emotional anchor. She masterfully balances the character's early vivacity—seen in her whip-smart banter, rooftop chases, and defiant rejection of an arranged marriage—with her later anguish as she confronts her aunt's betrayal and her own tragic destiny. In the climactic duel where Yu Ran kills Gong Yuyi (Jiang Shuying) to save her friends, Song shifts from playful exuberance to haunted resolve, her eyes reflecting the cost of survival.
Critics lauded her ability to convey "boyish charm" alongside profound vulnerability, making Yu Ran's final choice—to embrace immortality as the Divine Eagle Warrior, forsaking love and kinship—a heart-wrenching crescendo. The role demanded physical extremes, from dancing in blizzards to fighting in rain-soaked battles where actors "steamed like dumplings," yet Song's performance remains fiercely human.
Beyond its stellar cast, the production's scale amplifies its emotional impact. Filmed across Xinjiang's deserts and Hubei's water towns, the series juxtaposes breathtaking vistas (like the crimson grasslands of Aksu) with intimate character moments, while costumes by Oscar-nominated designer Xi Zhongwen weave cultural authenticity into every detail.
From child goddess to complex heroines, Song merges technical precision (-tier crying in The Dark Lord4) with emotional authenticity. Her xianxia roles (Demon Hunter, Scent of a Thousand) redefine strength through vulnerability, while historicals (Last Immortal, Dark Lord) showcase her range from comedic to regal.
