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On Small Town Remedies, Bad Luck, and the Roads That Lead Back Home
I have always been interested in modern medical dramas, but I had no intention of watching this one. I came across it on its premiere day and decided to give it a try. I expected a conventional hospital drama about doctors and complicated medical cases. Instead, I found myself both confused and hooked. Medicine is only the starting point; the story gradually becomes an exploration of human nature, relationships, regrets and the unpredictable ways people navigate life. I didn't expect this kind of story.
Our ML, Liu Zhengliang, is a highly accomplished neurosurgeon with an extraordinary talent for attracting misfortune. He loses a patient during surgery, gets dismissed, loses his savings and later learns that his mother has died by suicide. Beneath all this almost comical bad luck is a man carrying years of unresolved trauma. His fear of snow is connected to childhood memories of his father's death beneath the ice, and eventually interferes with his ability to operate. He is a brilliant doctor who has never properly confronted his own pain.
Liu Zhengliang is initially introverted, stubborn, socially awkward and difficult to approach. Yet he repeatedly finds himself treating difficult patients, defending their right to proper care and taking responsibility when things go wrong. He wants to leave Xiao Ximen Hospital, but he can't simply turn away someone who needs help.
I liked how the medical cases connect to social realities. Patients cannot always afford examinations or treatment, and some refuse care because they fear becoming a financial burden on their families. However, as someone from a country where public healthcare is free, meaning everyone can get every service in government hospitals for free, I don't clearly understand their situations. These stories remind us that medical care is not simply about identifying an illness and choosing the correct procedure. Sometimes, the greatest obstacle is whether a patient can afford to stay alive. The eventual closure of Xiao Ximen Hospital reveals its value through the people it has helped and the community that stands up for it. Its importance cannot be measured only by facilities, reputation or finances.
The drama is richer because Liu Zhengliang isn't the only person with a story. His colleagues and the people he meets also carry their own struggles. Chen Junnan never truly chose medicine for himself; his father's expectations pushed him into a profession he was uncomfortable with. His decision to explore another career raises an interesting question: does becoming a good doctor necessarily mean remaining a doctor forever? Che Mingming struggles to balance her ambitions with caring for her mentally ill father, while Lao Huang's fear of blood is rooted in professional trauma. Their stories show that professional competence and personal vulnerability can coexist.
I particularly appreciated the family relationships. Liu Zhengliang and Liu Zhengguang are stubborn, emotionally awkward and frequently misunderstand each other. Liu Zhengliang initially looks down on his younger brother's work at the funeral shop, believing he deserves something better. Gradually, he realises that his brother has his own life and choices. Both have been carrying guilt that was never entirely theirs, including guilt surrounding their father's death. Learning to let go becomes an important part of their growth. The funeral shop, placed so close to the hospital, creates a conversation between life and death: one institution fights to preserve life, while the other helps people deal with its inevitable ending. Liu Zhengliang gradually understands that he cannot save everyone.
I also liked the idea that moving forward doesn't necessarily mean completely recovering from the past. Liu Zhengliang's mother used to cover the windows with newspaper to protect him from seeing the snow, and later Long Dongdong prepares a room with covered windows for the same reason. These details connect his childhood, his mother's love and his present circumstances. Eventually, he confronts his fear. More importantly, his decision to stay in the north doesn't depend on being completely cured. He accepts that his fear may remain, but it no longer has to determine his life. I find that more meaningful than a storyline in which every psychological wound is suddenly healed.
Coming to the romance, I have to admit that this was probably the weakest part for me. I recognise that Jiang Yan delivered a good performance, but I personally found Ai Chen rather annoying at times. Her direct approach sometimes felt like the conventional male-lead behaviour we see in romance dramas: persistent advances and forceful expressions of affection, even when the other person is uncomfortable. Her feelings are genuine, especially considering how often she has been misunderstood because of her learning difficulties. Liu Zhengliang, meanwhile, struggles with intimacy because he is afraid of becoming responsible for someone else when he cannot manage his own life. Their motivations make sense, but sincerity alone doesn't create romantic chemistry. I was much more interested in their individual growth than their romantic scenes.
The acting deserves appreciation. The cast makes the characters feel real rather than like dramatic devices. The ML effectively portrays Liu Zhengliang's professional confidence and personal awkwardness, while Long Dongdong's humorous, seemingly irresponsible personality hides a perceptive and compassionate individual. The drama also balances comedy and heavier subjects well; the humour around the funeral business rarely weakens the serious moments.
My main reservation is that the large number of storylines occasionally makes the narrative feel scattered. Some relationships could have benefited from more room to breathe. Still, the stories connect to responsibility, regret and the freedom to choose one's own path. Not everyone receives a conventional happy ending, and that variety makes the world feel believable.
Ultimately, I found this drama much more rewarding than I expected. It is not simply about a talented neurosurgeon rebuilding his career in a small-town hospital. It is about people disappointed by life, people who have taken wrong paths and people still trying to find a reason to move forward. The hospital becomes a meeting point for these lives, while the funeral shop reminds us that life is temporary and nobody can control everything. Everyone has their own little world, with struggles that may seem insignificant to outsiders but mean everything to them.
I came looking for a medical drama and unexpectedly found a story about life itself. The remedy isn't necessarily medicine, a successful operation or a perfect solution. Sometimes it is having someone who understands you, finding the courage to make a different choice, accepting what cannot be changed or simply allowing yourself to start again. The romance didn't work for me, but the characters, their individual struggles, the social commentary and the emotional depth made the journey worthwhile. It was a genuinely pleasant surprise, and I'm very happy I randomly decided to watch it on its premiere day.
Our ML, Liu Zhengliang, is a highly accomplished neurosurgeon with an extraordinary talent for attracting misfortune. He loses a patient during surgery, gets dismissed, loses his savings and later learns that his mother has died by suicide. Beneath all this almost comical bad luck is a man carrying years of unresolved trauma. His fear of snow is connected to childhood memories of his father's death beneath the ice, and eventually interferes with his ability to operate. He is a brilliant doctor who has never properly confronted his own pain.
Liu Zhengliang is initially introverted, stubborn, socially awkward and difficult to approach. Yet he repeatedly finds himself treating difficult patients, defending their right to proper care and taking responsibility when things go wrong. He wants to leave Xiao Ximen Hospital, but he can't simply turn away someone who needs help.
I liked how the medical cases connect to social realities. Patients cannot always afford examinations or treatment, and some refuse care because they fear becoming a financial burden on their families. However, as someone from a country where public healthcare is free, meaning everyone can get every service in government hospitals for free, I don't clearly understand their situations. These stories remind us that medical care is not simply about identifying an illness and choosing the correct procedure. Sometimes, the greatest obstacle is whether a patient can afford to stay alive. The eventual closure of Xiao Ximen Hospital reveals its value through the people it has helped and the community that stands up for it. Its importance cannot be measured only by facilities, reputation or finances.
The drama is richer because Liu Zhengliang isn't the only person with a story. His colleagues and the people he meets also carry their own struggles. Chen Junnan never truly chose medicine for himself; his father's expectations pushed him into a profession he was uncomfortable with. His decision to explore another career raises an interesting question: does becoming a good doctor necessarily mean remaining a doctor forever? Che Mingming struggles to balance her ambitions with caring for her mentally ill father, while Lao Huang's fear of blood is rooted in professional trauma. Their stories show that professional competence and personal vulnerability can coexist.
I particularly appreciated the family relationships. Liu Zhengliang and Liu Zhengguang are stubborn, emotionally awkward and frequently misunderstand each other. Liu Zhengliang initially looks down on his younger brother's work at the funeral shop, believing he deserves something better. Gradually, he realises that his brother has his own life and choices. Both have been carrying guilt that was never entirely theirs, including guilt surrounding their father's death. Learning to let go becomes an important part of their growth. The funeral shop, placed so close to the hospital, creates a conversation between life and death: one institution fights to preserve life, while the other helps people deal with its inevitable ending. Liu Zhengliang gradually understands that he cannot save everyone.
I also liked the idea that moving forward doesn't necessarily mean completely recovering from the past. Liu Zhengliang's mother used to cover the windows with newspaper to protect him from seeing the snow, and later Long Dongdong prepares a room with covered windows for the same reason. These details connect his childhood, his mother's love and his present circumstances. Eventually, he confronts his fear. More importantly, his decision to stay in the north doesn't depend on being completely cured. He accepts that his fear may remain, but it no longer has to determine his life. I find that more meaningful than a storyline in which every psychological wound is suddenly healed.
Coming to the romance, I have to admit that this was probably the weakest part for me. I recognise that Jiang Yan delivered a good performance, but I personally found Ai Chen rather annoying at times. Her direct approach sometimes felt like the conventional male-lead behaviour we see in romance dramas: persistent advances and forceful expressions of affection, even when the other person is uncomfortable. Her feelings are genuine, especially considering how often she has been misunderstood because of her learning difficulties. Liu Zhengliang, meanwhile, struggles with intimacy because he is afraid of becoming responsible for someone else when he cannot manage his own life. Their motivations make sense, but sincerity alone doesn't create romantic chemistry. I was much more interested in their individual growth than their romantic scenes.
The acting deserves appreciation. The cast makes the characters feel real rather than like dramatic devices. The ML effectively portrays Liu Zhengliang's professional confidence and personal awkwardness, while Long Dongdong's humorous, seemingly irresponsible personality hides a perceptive and compassionate individual. The drama also balances comedy and heavier subjects well; the humour around the funeral business rarely weakens the serious moments.
My main reservation is that the large number of storylines occasionally makes the narrative feel scattered. Some relationships could have benefited from more room to breathe. Still, the stories connect to responsibility, regret and the freedom to choose one's own path. Not everyone receives a conventional happy ending, and that variety makes the world feel believable.
Ultimately, I found this drama much more rewarding than I expected. It is not simply about a talented neurosurgeon rebuilding his career in a small-town hospital. It is about people disappointed by life, people who have taken wrong paths and people still trying to find a reason to move forward. The hospital becomes a meeting point for these lives, while the funeral shop reminds us that life is temporary and nobody can control everything. Everyone has their own little world, with struggles that may seem insignificant to outsiders but mean everything to them.
I came looking for a medical drama and unexpectedly found a story about life itself. The remedy isn't necessarily medicine, a successful operation or a perfect solution. Sometimes it is having someone who understands you, finding the courage to make a different choice, accepting what cannot be changed or simply allowing yourself to start again. The romance didn't work for me, but the characters, their individual struggles, the social commentary and the emotional depth made the journey worthwhile. It was a genuinely pleasant surprise, and I'm very happy I randomly decided to watch it on its premiere day.
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