Deci16

The idea that she should’ve “used her brain” more or been a “good person” by giving Nan Heng the benefit of the doubt is not only reductive, but also dismissive of the trauma and existential dread she’s navigating.

It doesn’t matter that she didn’t read the entire script. She didn’t need to. The iconic scenes she did remember kept happening, sometimes with slight variations, yes, but the core emotional beats and consequences remained intact. Should she have felt reassured that her death or her family’s destruction might play out slightly differently? That’s not comfort, it’s psychological torment. The inevitability of those scenes is the very thing that drives her fear, not her ignorance.

And let’s talk about Nan Heng. He continuously reinforces her negative perception of him. From the beginning, he’s cold, manipulative, and emotionally violent, specifically toward her. The audience gets to see his sacrifices and inner conflict, but Yi Meng doesn’t. She’s not privy to his motivations or private pain. All she sees is a man who seems determined to hurt her, and in a world where she already believes she’s doomed, that cruelty only confirms her worst fears.

Even when Nan Heng tries to explain, Yi Meng is already operating from a place of deep mistrust, and rightly so. She’s not a know-it-all; she’s someone trying to survive a story that’s written to destroy her. Her resistance isn’t arrogance, it’s self-preservation. And her refusal to blindly trust Nan Heng isn’t a moral failing, it’s a realistic response to someone who’s shown her nothing but harm.

So no, she’s not perfect. But demanding perfection from a character who’s trapped in a fatal narrative and emotionally isolated is not just unfair, it’s shallow. If you can’t appreciate the nuance of a woman fighting against inevitability while being gaslit by the very person the audience is rooting for, maybe it’s time to rewatch the drama with more empathy and less judgment.

This take completely misses the emotional and existential stakes Song Yi Meng is grappling with. Just because the iconic scenes play out slightly differently doesn’t mean she should suddenly feel safe. Should anyone be comforted by a maybe version of their own death? A partial reenactment of their family’s destruction?

You say she should “use her brain,” but what she’s doing is surviving. She’s not just reacting to Nan Heng’s actions, she’s reacting to a world that’s proven repeatedly that her knowledge of the script isn’t enough to stop its momentum. And let’s not forget how cruel Nan Heng was to her from the beginning. He showed her only his worst side, and while the audience gets to see his sacrifices and inner conflict, Yi Meng doesn’t. She’s operating in isolation, with trauma as her compass.

Even when she realizes she loves him, and especially then is when she firmly pushes him away. Not out of stubbornness, but out of fear. Song Yi Meng knows that no matter how much Nan Heng changes, he can’t guarantee her safety, and she can’t guarantee she won’t vanish one day and leave him behind, devastated and alone. It’s not just about trusting him; it’s about the unbearable weight of knowing that love might not be enough to rewrite a doomed fate. She voices this clearly during the campfire scene and again in her conversation with her father. Her distance isn’t cruelty; it’s the heartbreaking choice of someone trying to protect the person she loves from the pain she believes is inevitable.

It’s wild how this comment manages to miss the entire point of A Dream Within A Dream while confidently listing other dramas as if emotional nuance is a flaw. Comparing ADWAD to TSOPG, AJTL, or TPOB is like faulting a psychological thriller for not being a rom-com.
Song Yi Meng isn’t written to be “lovely” or “impressive” in the traditional sense, she’s written to be real, and that includes being flawed, reactive, and emotionally cornered.

She’s not “obsessed” with the script, she’s trapped in it. Every iconic scene she tries to subvert still unfolds, reinforcing the terrifying truth that her death and her family’s destruction are inevitable. That’s not poor judgment, it’s existential dread. And Nan Heng? He’s cruel to her from the start, showing her only his worst side. Expecting her to treat him with warmth while he manipulates and isolates her is not just tone-deaf, it’s lazy viewing.

You say “audience reviews” don’t support her complexity, but let’s talk facts: ADWAD outperformed many other shows this year despite iQIYI’s artificial suppression of its ratings. That means viewers did engage, just not in the shallow, spoon-fed way you seem to prefer. If anything, your argument only highlights how some audiences still struggle to appreciate layered storytelling and morally grey characters.

So yes, Song Yi Meng is difficult. She’s defensive. She misjudges. But she’s also fighting a narrative that’s already written in blood. If you need your FLs to be endlessly kind, have genius level intelligence, and unbothered by trauma, maybe stick to dramas where every FL is a recycled template with a different wardrobe. ADWAD was never trying to be that. And thank goodness for that.

Song Yi Meng’s behavior is narratively deliberate. She’s a modern actress trapped in a story she knows ends in tragedy, and every attempt to change the plot fails, reinforcing her fear that fate is fixed. Her urgency and guardedness aren’t arrogance; they’re survival instincts in a world that punishes deviation.

As for Nan Heng, he consistently shows her cruelty and manipulation. While the audience sees glimpses of his complexity, she doesn’t. Expecting her to trust him with no evidence is like asking someone to solve emotional calculus with half the equation missing. He reinforces her distrust at every turn, so her judgment isn’t flawed, it’s earned.

Lastly, her growth isn’t suppose to be tidy or romantic, which is the very reason why she is such a compelling FL.

Take Me Where the Clouds Rise was also rumored to premiere in October with Li Yi Tong as the female lead. For this reason, it seems unlikely that FSMM: Sword & Beloved will also air that month, since the two dramas would end up competing against each other.

Today is technically her birthday, China time. Happy Birthday Yi Tong! Wishing you all the best! 🎂🎉

I honestly don’t see the resemblance. If you showed me photos of both, I would never mistake Bai Lu for Li Yi Tong or vice versa. I also agree with you that Li Yi Tong deserves to be recognized as her own person, not reduced to a “Bai Lu lookalike,” as so many people unfairly do. She has worked tirelessly over the years and has never chased clout to build her career. It feels like such an injustice for those unfamiliar with her work to dismiss her as merely a Bai Lu lookalike, instead of acknowledging her as the talented actress she truly is.

If you look closely, Song Yi Meng’s so-called “annoying” persistence is actually consistent with her trauma and worldview, which were reinforced by Nan Heng’s repeated displays of cruelty towards her. She had every reason to see him as dangerous, and breaking through that kind of mistrust doesn’t happen overnight or even in a few days. No one suddenly wakes up free of fear toward the man fated to kill her and wipe out her entire family.

She often made valid points, and those flashes of insight prove she wasn’t a “dumb FL”; she was simply trapped in the belief that letting Nan Heng into her life meant sealing her own demise. Yet once she chose him, she never wavered, there was no back-and-forth mistrust. Her devotion turned wholly toward defying the script and building a life with him.

So, while the execution could’ve been smoother, I wouldn’t put the blame on Song Yi Meng as a character. She’s complex, stubborn, and flawed, but that’s also what makes her more realistic than a perfect, instantly forgiving heroine.

I don't see the resemblance, and the comparison drives ME crazy.

Li Yi Tong has never been the type of actress to actively hype up CP pairings. It’s rare for her to appear on variety shows, especially the kind where female guests are expected to interact with male guests in suggestive ways. As a result, she tends to prefer all-female variety programs. This is one reason she hasn’t had as much exposure, despite being an excellent actress.

Just when I thought the cast of Love in Pavillion was stacked, I am once again reminded that there is still Zhao Ge, a would-be great series that will never be. Not even names like Wu Jin Yan, Xu Kai, Bai Lu, Gillian Chung, Li Yi Tong, and Bai Yu can save this one. What a shame.

I second bloody romance.

The character of Song Yi Meng is deeply layered, marked by emotional restraint, internal conflict, and quiet strength which Li Yi Tong conveyed with subtlety and nuance to a perfection.

Constructive criticism is always welcome, but it's important to separate personal preference from objective critique. Just because a performance doesn’t resonate with you doesn’t mean the actress misunderstood the character, it simply reflects more about your taste or expectations than the actor's actual skill.

I want Zhang Ling He and Li Yi Tong on this project, but this is more just wishful thinking.

Episode 25 and 26 riddled with weak writing on the screenwriter’s part. It is extremely frustrating how Song Yi Meng is constantly used to generate sympathy for Nan Heng. Okay, we get it, but can we please give our female lead some depth and love too?

I absolutely agree with you that the narrative could’ve been handled with more fairness, especially in how it frames Yi Meng. While Nan Heng’s pain is front and center, Yi Meng’s quiet suffering often goes unnoticed, even though she is navigating betrayal, fear, and impossible choices. You are also spot on about the emotional logic and imbalance, it’s really not about blaming one side, but about recognizing how uneven storytelling can shape our empathy.

Just some random thoughts. I think the narrative often fails our FL. While Nan Heng is given an emotional arc full of redemption and nuance, Yi Meng’s own struggle is rarely explored with the same depth. Her pain is subtle, internal, and frequently pushed aside in favor of highlighting his suffering. As a result, audiences are more easily moved by Nan Heng’s visible wounds while missing the quiet ache behind Yi Meng’s guarded exterior.

If we empathize with Nan Heng’s visible suffering, we should also recognize Yi Meng’s quiet resilience.

I think it is important to look at the why behind Song Yi Meng’s actions, especially if we’re holding her accountable for hurting Nan Heng.

From her perspective, she was thrown into a world where everything she believed was real and prewritten, only to be repeatedly deceived by the people she trusted most. Nan Heng chose to present himself as cruel and manipulative. He actively confirmed her worst fears for much of the story, and only started revealing his true self after she’d already been emotionally bruised. Yes, she’s made mistakes and reacted harshly at times, but those weren’t born from malice, they came from fear, betrayal, and survival.

We’ve actually seen her start to evolve. She protected Nan Heng when she didn’t have to, thanked him when he stood up for her, and chose not to expose him even when doing so could have saved her family. That kind of loyalty, despite her fear, shows that she is trying, even if she doesn’t have all the answers yet. Healing from emotional damage takes time, especially when trust has been so thoroughly broken.

I won’t argue that their relationship hasn’t been painful to watch, it has. But sometimes, emotional messiness is part of what makes characters feel real. It’s not a clean love story, and maybe it’s not supposed to be. But calling it “toxic” without considering the full scope of her inner conflict risks flattening a character who is actually quite layered. She’s not perfect, but neither is he. That’s what makes their journey complex, not broken.

I think this drama is asking us to look past black and white blame and instead sit with the discomfort of two people trying and often failing to love each other in a world stacked against them. It’s messy, yes. But sometimes, growth starts there.

After rewatching episodes 23 and 24, and moving past the initial anguish, I now see that Song Yi Meng’s reaction is entirely justified. While it may seem harsh, it’s not unreasonable. Nan Heng never gave her a solid reason to trust him, most of his good deeds are only known to the audience or controlled by the script.

Meanwhile, LSL, whom Yi Meng trusted entirely, had been lying to her all along. Her fate, and that of her family, still hangs in the balance. I still think the writers could’ve done more to show her emotional struggle, but her response makes sense. She was misled by both men.

I truly love this drama, but it’s hard to ignore the imbalance, and at times, clear bias, in how the writers developed the two leads. Nan Heng is given a deeply compelling transformation: he evolves from a cold, even unlikable figure into someone the audience can empathize with. The effort behind his redemption arc is undeniable.

By contrast, Yi Meng’s character has seen little to no meaningful growth. She remains trapped in a cycle of distrust, often coming across as unnecessarily harsh toward Nan Heng. This stagnation robs her of emotional depth and narrative impact. If the original intent was to show both leads growing individually before coming together, that vision has clearly faltered. Many viewers have already expressed their disappointment, and when the core dynamic suffers, the entire story weakens.

The writers had something great but they owe it to their characters, and the audience, to do better.