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I didn’t expect this drama to grip me like this, but it did.
THE FIRST FROST – DRAMA REVIEW
If I were to describe The First Frost in one sentence, it would be: A hauntingly beautiful tale of rekindled love, quiet trauma, and tender second chances wrapped in subtle storytelling and poetic cinematography.
I’ll say this first – this is not your average romance drama. It feels different. The atmosphere, the soundtrack, the characters – everything is designed to immerse you into a world of unspoken regrets, lingering pain, and love that never really went away.
WHAT I LOVED
1. The Vibe – Melancholic, Consistent, Beautiful.
From the opening episode with "Goodbye, Sang Yan" to the slow burning tension in their shared apartment, the tone is masterfully held throughout. The drama starts with a bittersweet re-encounter and continues to bleed nostalgic hues all over its plot. The rainy nights, dim lighting, quiet bus rides, stolen glances – it’s all so soft yet heavy. The soundtrack? Always on point. It swells with the emotion of each scene and lingers long after the screen fades to black.
2. The Character Depth.
Wen Yifan is one of the most complex female leads I’ve seen in a while. She’s not outspoken. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t explain herself often. And yet, you feel her pain, her guilt, her hesitation in every single expression. The sleepwalking? A literal manifestation of her past trauma and emotional suppression. And then there’s Sang Yan – the quietly wounded, lovesick boy turned man who’s been carrying the weight of a heartbreak he never truly understood. His affection is consistent, almost annoyingly so – from protecting her silently to setting up safety precautions in the house because she sleepwalks. And don’t even get me started on how he remembers her birthday, her perfume, and her university switch even after years of silence.
3. The Acting – Micro-Expressions Carry the Whole Show.
There are moments where no words are exchanged, but the tension is louder than anything. Their chemistry is aching. So real.
4. The Flashbacks – Piecing the Puzzle.
The drama beautifully balances past and present, slowly peeling back the layers of what went wrong.
WHAT I DIDN’T LOVE
1. Mu Chengyun. Just… No.
Persistent in a way that wasn’t charming but invasive. He doesn’t understand boundaries. Keeps popping up where he’s not wanted. Even after being told no, he keeps pressing. I get that he represents a parallel love interest, but he didn’t need to be this annoying.
2. Wen Yifan's Reluctance Sometimes Feels Drawn Out.
I understand her trauma. Truly, I do. But there were times where her refusal to acknowledge Sang Yan’s obvious affection, or her own feelings, felt a little too prolonged. Girl, how much more do you need? Maybe it was meant to mirror her fear of loss, but a part of me wanted her to at least apologise sooner or make a bold move without hiding.
3. Su Haoan's Tragic Backstory – Felt Forced.
This is going to be controversial but… I didn’t feel much when he talked about his trauma story. It felt inserted to give him depth, but it didn’t land for me. Compared to the emotional realism of Sang Yan and Wen Yifan’s arc, his came off more as a plot device.
All in all, it's a beautiful story of how healing can come in the form of one person who never gives up on you. Someone who shows up, and patiently waits for you to come around – again.
Rating: 9/10.
Would’ve been a 10 if not for Mu Chengyun and the mid-season drag. But this one will stay with me for a while.
If I were to describe The First Frost in one sentence, it would be: A hauntingly beautiful tale of rekindled love, quiet trauma, and tender second chances wrapped in subtle storytelling and poetic cinematography.
I’ll say this first – this is not your average romance drama. It feels different. The atmosphere, the soundtrack, the characters – everything is designed to immerse you into a world of unspoken regrets, lingering pain, and love that never really went away.
WHAT I LOVED
1. The Vibe – Melancholic, Consistent, Beautiful.
From the opening episode with "Goodbye, Sang Yan" to the slow burning tension in their shared apartment, the tone is masterfully held throughout. The drama starts with a bittersweet re-encounter and continues to bleed nostalgic hues all over its plot. The rainy nights, dim lighting, quiet bus rides, stolen glances – it’s all so soft yet heavy. The soundtrack? Always on point. It swells with the emotion of each scene and lingers long after the screen fades to black.
2. The Character Depth.
Wen Yifan is one of the most complex female leads I’ve seen in a while. She’s not outspoken. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t explain herself often. And yet, you feel her pain, her guilt, her hesitation in every single expression. The sleepwalking? A literal manifestation of her past trauma and emotional suppression. And then there’s Sang Yan – the quietly wounded, lovesick boy turned man who’s been carrying the weight of a heartbreak he never truly understood. His affection is consistent, almost annoyingly so – from protecting her silently to setting up safety precautions in the house because she sleepwalks. And don’t even get me started on how he remembers her birthday, her perfume, and her university switch even after years of silence.
3. The Acting – Micro-Expressions Carry the Whole Show.
There are moments where no words are exchanged, but the tension is louder than anything. Their chemistry is aching. So real.
4. The Flashbacks – Piecing the Puzzle.
The drama beautifully balances past and present, slowly peeling back the layers of what went wrong.
WHAT I DIDN’T LOVE
1. Mu Chengyun. Just… No.
Persistent in a way that wasn’t charming but invasive. He doesn’t understand boundaries. Keeps popping up where he’s not wanted. Even after being told no, he keeps pressing. I get that he represents a parallel love interest, but he didn’t need to be this annoying.
2. Wen Yifan's Reluctance Sometimes Feels Drawn Out.
I understand her trauma. Truly, I do. But there were times where her refusal to acknowledge Sang Yan’s obvious affection, or her own feelings, felt a little too prolonged. Girl, how much more do you need? Maybe it was meant to mirror her fear of loss, but a part of me wanted her to at least apologise sooner or make a bold move without hiding.
3. Su Haoan's Tragic Backstory – Felt Forced.
This is going to be controversial but… I didn’t feel much when he talked about his trauma story. It felt inserted to give him depth, but it didn’t land for me. Compared to the emotional realism of Sang Yan and Wen Yifan’s arc, his came off more as a plot device.
All in all, it's a beautiful story of how healing can come in the form of one person who never gives up on you. Someone who shows up, and patiently waits for you to come around – again.
Rating: 9/10.
Would’ve been a 10 if not for Mu Chengyun and the mid-season drag. But this one will stay with me for a while.
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