The First Jasmine (2026)

The Heart Will Go On

Ye Li is summoned from the elite Lishan Academy to prepare for her wedding to Mo Xiuyao, a crippled and unfavored prince. Her younger sister Ye Ying is now engaged to her former fiancé, Prince Mo Jingli. Ye Li is unfazed by the groom swap and blithely oblivious to her new husband's frosty glowers and suspicious side-eyes. True to Xiuyao's suspicions, there is more to Ye Li than meets the eye. She has secrets and has returned to the capital with a higher purpose than marriage—one focused on righting injustices against the former Prince Ding and Lishan Academy. As it turns out, both Ye Li and Mo Xiuyao were collateral damage in a power play at the highest level of imperial authority. Their common cause draws them together, but in order to truly work together, they must confront the past and put it behind them.

Though set in the fictional dynasty of Dachu, the setting for The First Jasmine is clearly inspired by Wu Zetian's controversial ascent, and the costumes, political dynamics, and social structures are distinctly Tang dynasty. While the political plot is not particularly special, the past intrigue is revealed in a way that draws you in, like pieces of a puzzle gradually falling into place. Everyone is an unreliable narrator, divulging their own role in the multiple betrayals eight years ago from their own point of view. The plot does not bother to fully explain itself, leaving the audience to speculate on and eventually piece together what happened with a growing sense of dread.

The problem is that the drama reaches its emotional peak a little too early, and after that, there is a sense of anticlimax heading into the finale. The final plot arc is rushed and fails to deliver a sense that justice was served or that the country is in better hands.

That said, this is a very solid character-driven story about healing. Both Ye Li and Mo Xiuyao are deeply damaged by past trauma, and the way their relationship evolves makes sense given what they endured. Ye Li is a deeply traumatized and complicated protagonist who appears functional only because of the coping mechanisms she relies upon to get through her difficulties. As a character, perhaps Ye Li is too capable, but she embodies the ethos of the elite Lishan Academy, and through her, the heart will go on. That said, the Lishan backstory unveil took too long and left me emotionally exhausted.

While Bai Lu pulls off a memorable and heartbreaking portrayal of Ye Li's trauma, her final showdown lacked sufficient impact. Her cold, resting-death-face missed the mark, and I felt that Xiuyao—no less a victim—deserved to be in on the final confrontation. I am fine with sidelining the male lead in the finale of female-centric storylines, but the actress has to be able to rise to the moment. That didn't happen here.

There were many interesting character arcs that didn't play out. I expected Han Mingxi to play a more consequential role and saw potential in his hilarious interactions with Ye Ying. But to me, Mo Jingli was the biggest missed opportunity. He is a cunning and layered character who pursued a just cause via questionable means. I did not like how the narrative diminished his cause, his motivations, and his intelligence heading into the finale.

Ultimately, this drama tries to combine too many themes. It is difficult to mix romance into a heavy revenge story, so I didn't mind so much that they didn't really try. Where it falls down most for me is how the main revenge plot failed to deliver closure or transformation. The story introduces so many interesting characters who seem to have agency and free will, only to have them go down the path of tired tropes. Screenwriter Zhao Na strikes again - her dramas always start well on the inspiration from borrowed works but she is really building a track record in not knowing how to end her plot arcs properly.

This starts out as an 8.5-level drama, but with the ending, it only earns an 8.0+. Still, it has enough unique aspects to make it an enjoyable and recommended watch.

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The Shape Survival Leaves Behind

There is a difference between surviving something and learning how to live after it. The First Jasmine is most interesting when it lingers in that distance.

Ye Li has survived so much that survival itself has become a way of being. She watches before she trusts, prepares before she rests, and carries an almost unsettling degree of self-control. The drama sometimes asks us to believe more of her than it convincingly earns, particularly once the truth about Li Shan Academy is revealed. The distance between the girl who endured those years and the remarkably capable, educated and socially composed woman we later meet is never fully bridged.

Still, Ye Li never felt emotionally empty to me. Bai Lu gives her restraint a history. Her trauma lingers in habits, hesitation and vigilance, in the strange difficulty of accepting happiness when one has become much better acquainted with loss. I did not always believe everything the plot allowed Ye Li to survive or accomplish, but I often understood the emotional logic behind the woman she had become.

This is where the drama is strongest. Not when Ye Li is being exceptionally capable, but when it allows that capability to become complicated. Strength can protect a person, but it can also become the only way they know how to exist. Healing here is not becoming softer or forgetting what happened. It is discovering that survival does not have to remain a permanent state.

Mo Xiuyao is part of that process, but not its entirety. Their marriage grows through familiarity, reliability and trust, and I found something quietly moving in watching two people accustomed to carrying themselves alone slowly allow another person to share the weight. The romance is restrained—occasionally more restrained than even I thought necessary—but the affection between them always felt present. At the same time, the drama already has trauma, revenge, politics and competing loyalties to resolve, and some romantic detours take more space than the larger story can comfortably afford.

That is perhaps the drama's central weakness. It wants to be many things, and I often found myself appreciating its individual parts more than the whole they eventually formed.

The political story can be absorbing, particularly when private grief begins shaping public decisions, and the supporting characters give the world much of its emotional weight. Yet certain histories remain incomplete, some developments are stronger in anticipation than explanation, and the final stretch never quite reaches the emotional force of what came before it. More than once, I understood exactly what a scene was reaching for without being fully carried there.

What stayed with me most was the drama's understanding that moving forward is not the same as leaving the past behind. The dead remain. Trauma remains. The person one had to become in order to survive remains too. Healing is simply the possibility that what happened yesterday may stop deciding everything that happens tomorrow.

I also found more pleasure than expected in simply looking at this drama. Its colours are subdued, its light gentle, and faces are allowed the small textures and imperfections that make people feel present rather than perfected. It quietly added to my affection for a world that often felt more lived in than polished.

On writing alone, The First Jasmine sits somewhere between a 7 and 7.5 for me. It is thoughtful but uneven, emotionally perceptive in places and frustratingly incomplete in others. It tries to hold healing, revenge, politics, romance and loss in the same hands, and occasionally drops something while reaching for something else.

Yet my feelings for it are warmer than that number suggests. Perhaps half a point belongs to the performances, perhaps some to the quiet pleasure of a visual world that still feels human. Mostly, it belongs to those moments when The First Jasmine stops trying to be everything at once and simply watches people learning how to live with what cannot be undone.

So I will leave it at an 8.

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