Sidneylandsam

Feud had all the right ingredients: a cast I admire, a premise rich with tragedy and longing, and a world built to test the limits of love. And yet, for me, it never quite became the story I hoped it would. On paper, Hua Ruyue and Bai Jiusi should have been unforgettable — two souls tied by fate, torn apart by grief, and bound together again by the stubborn endurance of love. But watching them, I rarely felt joy in their bond. Even their happiest times seemed weighed down by shadows, as if their love existed only in the margins of sorrow. It was never just about misunderstandings or bad timing — it was about two people whose fundamental ways of seeing life and mankind often felt irreconcilable.

That doesn’t mean the drama lacked power. On the contrary, its exploration of grief, guilt, and moral ambiguity carried real weight. Hua Ruyue’s compassion, twisted by loss, and Bai Jiusi’s quiet devotion, smothered by silence, made for a pairing that was layered but unbearably heavy. Their love wasn’t soft tragedy like in One and Only, where fleeting joy made the heartbreak all the sharper. In Feud, joy was barely allowed to exist at all. And that’s where the drama lost me. Instead of feeling the ache of love shining through pain, I felt buried under the pain itself. It’s a beautiful, well-acted story — intelligent, somber, and full of depth — but for me, it lacked the balance that makes heartbreak worth enduring.