2
A beautiful shell, but empty inside.
I know it’s not easy to create a perfect drama. Some dramas have strong stories but weak production, while others have high production quality but only average storytelling. Pursuit of Jade (POJ) excels in production quality, but its story falls short. This is the first time I’ve felt this disappointed in a drama. I really liked it at the beginning (up to around episode 15), and I agree that those episodes (the Lin'An arc) deserve a perfect 10. But the arcs that follow all the way to the end just can’t deliver on that early promise. In the end, it becomes very generic and predictable, repeating familiar tropes. The gem simply loses its shine.
If we set aside the Lin’An arc, POJ has several fundamental flaws that, to me, feel very painful: genre, themes, plot development, and character development. Let's do the surgery.
1# Genre. POJ is a messy mix of genres. It leans heavily into romance (giving every character a pairing), while the inciting incident and the core issue lie in the political arena. The story’s intended goal isn’t achieved as it should be. How would you resolve the country’s political problems with romance? It really should strike a better balance between romance and politics, as we’ve seen in dramas such as Fated Hearts (2025), where the broader stakes and personal relationships are handled more evenly.
In POJ, the political intrigues lack sufficient background and reasonable explanation, so we don't know where the story might head. Is it to avenge certain individuals or to serve justice and to restore peace to the society devastated by war? At first, the drama seems to have a grand, noble goal—standing up for the oppressed. But in the end, our characters deal only with what happened to their parents and resolve their personal suffering. The plot involving political intrigue is also highly confusing. Too many conflicting parties, yet no clear reason behind them. Why do Grand Tutor Li and Prime Minister Wei oppose each other? Why is Prince Changxin at odds with the ruling monarch and launches a rebellion? Why does Grand Tutor Li side with Qi Min? What does Qi Min promise him? And, as more characters are introduced, the show starts to resemble a parade of good-looking young men in positions of power, wreaking havoc and causing civilian casualties. Meanwhile, the root of the political conflict remains unaddressed—until so much later, when it’s already too late.
Indeed, POJ prioritizes romance. However, the romance is not its strongest point, either. I see a lack of emotional maturity between the ML (Yan Zheng/Xie Zheng) and the FL (Fan Chengyu), which prevents the love story from feeling truly meaningful. Their interactions are mostly overly restrained, almost timid, despite being already married. They behave like inexperienced teenagers and lack a sense of natural desire. The story insists on a “fake marriage” trope, even though the narrative already provides sufficient, grounded reasons for a genuine union. Unfortunately, their relationship is overshadowed by SML (Qi Min) and SFL (Yu Qianqian)’s toxic dynamic, which feels more compelling simply because it dares to show raw emotion and intimacy. These choices do not strengthen the romance; they weaken it.
2# Themes. POJ doesn't deliver consistent themes and values throughout the episodes. I don't mind if POJ tends to serve as a "woman's story" promoting modern ideas of female emancipation and empowerment. To have an FL with double stigma ( a butcher and an orphan) and have to rely on herself to support her family is truly refreshing. In the Lin’An arc, POJ introduces rich socio-cultural themes: the social position of orphans, neighborhood dynamics, matrilocal marriage, women in male-dominated professions (with a female butcher as the lead), and war as a man-made disaster. It is such a strong and unique story material to follow. These ideas could’ve been the foundation for the entire story—a lens for reflecting on society, even today. Sadly, all of those are abandoned after the Lin’An arc. In the subsequent arcs, the story just falls into generic tropes we’ve seen many times: a legend of a female general, a powerful and handsome young general, cheap power struggles and rebellion, and "love conquers all." This change creates a sense of discontinuity and detachment. After the Lin’An arc, POJ has nothing more to say. It becomes only about love, kissing, caressing, lovemaking, and boring declarations of “I love you.” Many people enjoy watching romantic scenes, but whether they realize it or not, this makes POJ feel cheapened.
3# Plot development. A good story has a clear inciting incident, a goal, rising conflict, a climax, and a resolution. What surprises me a lot: POJ doesn’t have a clear climax. There is no real “explosive” moment or a clearly powerful peak, either in the romance or in the political storyline. The cause is that the internal and external conflicts faced by the main characters are not built up to their full intensity. At the same time, the resolutions to the problems come too quickly and too easily. The emotional consequences of the choices made are too weak, and there is no moment of drastic change in the story's direction.
In my view, the storywriter should have been able to make better use of three key moments: the revelation of the ML’s true identity after he has already married and built a family with the FL, the revelation of the FL's family secret that is connected to the FL’s family massacre, and the exposure of political conspiracies in the capital. The problem is that the writer of POJ tends to turn high-stakes moments that should be tense and heart-wrenching into comedy. The writer seems unwilling to “break the relationship,” so the characters can rediscover and redefine their bond as their roles change. This issue is evident, for example, when the FL, through her recklessness, drugs the ML and causes him to miss a crucial battle. That should have been a defining turning point. Instead of turning it into comedic scenes, the story should have allowed ML to assert his authority as a military general. He needed to make his position unmistakably clear—confront her, show the weight of responsibility he carries, and force her to understand the gravity of her actions. A mistake of that scale demands consequences, yet he is too forgiving because of love. Another example, the final fight against the biggest enemies in the capital. This should’ve been high-stakes, with both leads working together. Instead, the stakes feel low because "they literally found the solution to their problems through dreams after having sex for the first time." How convenient, absurd, and ridiculous is that!
4# Character development. POJ is overly character-driven, with most of its focus placed on the FL. I don't mind that. But why does it have to turn her into yet another “female general”? Once the story moves in that direction—around episode 20—it begins to fall apart. It stops being a story about an inspiring, kind, loyal, and devoted wife, which was arguably the drama’s strongest foundation. Instead, the female lead embarks on an implausible military trajectory that raises more questions than it answers. Is it really that easy to become a general—with limited literacy, no formal education, minimum real battle experience, and only a small number of achievements? She rises to prominence almost overnight. The drama pushes too hard in its attempt to portray a “strong female character,” to the point where it becomes forced rather than convincing. It gives the impression that the story is trying to deliver a message of modern women’s empowerment, but in doing so, it imposes contemporary values too bluntly onto a historical setting, breaking the sense of authenticity.
Another sad thing: the heavy focus on the FL ends up wasting the ML. This is, frankly, the most frustrating part. He is introduced as the story's greatest military general, yet that aura fades after he meets, marries, and falls in love with the FL. His edge is dulled. The fierceness that once defined him fades, replaced by a character who feels passive, overly softened, and, at times, even ineffectual. He is repeatedly overshadowed by the FL. If this is meant to show that he becomes “a better man” through love, then the transformation is also poorly grounded. We are never shown a truly flawed version of him to begin with, so the supposed growth lacks meaning. Meanwhile, the imbalance in the action sequence and fighting is glaring. The FL is given continuous opportunities to prove herself on the battlefield, while the ML—despite his reputation—rarely takes center stage in combat. He seldom engages directly, and when he does, it lacks impact. This raises an uncomfortable question: is he still a central character, or merely reduced to a symbolic presence, there for handsome appearance rather than substance? His character loses credibility gradually for the sake of the FL's unearned promotion. There were so many opportunities for him to take stronger, more active roles: leading battles even while injured (which would’ve made him truly charismatic and heroic), or personally killing his greatest enemy (which would’ve served as emotional closure for his 17-year trauma). And then there’s the whipping—108 lashes—to prove his love. It makes no sense. He should be dead or at least crippled for weeks.
POJ is a very good example of the failure to maintain story quality, internal logic, and narrative realism. The imbalance of genres, the weak political conflict, the negative direction of character development, and the lack of a truly impactful climax all cause the narrative to lose direction and intensity. With its powerful and beautiful beginning, the weakness of the second half of the series makes viewers' disappointment even greater. It is a waste of the cast and the audience’s time. Even rewatching it feels unappealing, as it would only repeat the same feeling of disappointment. For viewers who avoid cheap romance and look for maturity, this drama is very, very unsatisfying. I give it a fairly good score only because I deeply appreciate the Lin’An arc.
If we set aside the Lin’An arc, POJ has several fundamental flaws that, to me, feel very painful: genre, themes, plot development, and character development. Let's do the surgery.
1# Genre. POJ is a messy mix of genres. It leans heavily into romance (giving every character a pairing), while the inciting incident and the core issue lie in the political arena. The story’s intended goal isn’t achieved as it should be. How would you resolve the country’s political problems with romance? It really should strike a better balance between romance and politics, as we’ve seen in dramas such as Fated Hearts (2025), where the broader stakes and personal relationships are handled more evenly.
In POJ, the political intrigues lack sufficient background and reasonable explanation, so we don't know where the story might head. Is it to avenge certain individuals or to serve justice and to restore peace to the society devastated by war? At first, the drama seems to have a grand, noble goal—standing up for the oppressed. But in the end, our characters deal only with what happened to their parents and resolve their personal suffering. The plot involving political intrigue is also highly confusing. Too many conflicting parties, yet no clear reason behind them. Why do Grand Tutor Li and Prime Minister Wei oppose each other? Why is Prince Changxin at odds with the ruling monarch and launches a rebellion? Why does Grand Tutor Li side with Qi Min? What does Qi Min promise him? And, as more characters are introduced, the show starts to resemble a parade of good-looking young men in positions of power, wreaking havoc and causing civilian casualties. Meanwhile, the root of the political conflict remains unaddressed—until so much later, when it’s already too late.
Indeed, POJ prioritizes romance. However, the romance is not its strongest point, either. I see a lack of emotional maturity between the ML (Yan Zheng/Xie Zheng) and the FL (Fan Chengyu), which prevents the love story from feeling truly meaningful. Their interactions are mostly overly restrained, almost timid, despite being already married. They behave like inexperienced teenagers and lack a sense of natural desire. The story insists on a “fake marriage” trope, even though the narrative already provides sufficient, grounded reasons for a genuine union. Unfortunately, their relationship is overshadowed by SML (Qi Min) and SFL (Yu Qianqian)’s toxic dynamic, which feels more compelling simply because it dares to show raw emotion and intimacy. These choices do not strengthen the romance; they weaken it.
2# Themes. POJ doesn't deliver consistent themes and values throughout the episodes. I don't mind if POJ tends to serve as a "woman's story" promoting modern ideas of female emancipation and empowerment. To have an FL with double stigma ( a butcher and an orphan) and have to rely on herself to support her family is truly refreshing. In the Lin’An arc, POJ introduces rich socio-cultural themes: the social position of orphans, neighborhood dynamics, matrilocal marriage, women in male-dominated professions (with a female butcher as the lead), and war as a man-made disaster. It is such a strong and unique story material to follow. These ideas could’ve been the foundation for the entire story—a lens for reflecting on society, even today. Sadly, all of those are abandoned after the Lin’An arc. In the subsequent arcs, the story just falls into generic tropes we’ve seen many times: a legend of a female general, a powerful and handsome young general, cheap power struggles and rebellion, and "love conquers all." This change creates a sense of discontinuity and detachment. After the Lin’An arc, POJ has nothing more to say. It becomes only about love, kissing, caressing, lovemaking, and boring declarations of “I love you.” Many people enjoy watching romantic scenes, but whether they realize it or not, this makes POJ feel cheapened.
3# Plot development. A good story has a clear inciting incident, a goal, rising conflict, a climax, and a resolution. What surprises me a lot: POJ doesn’t have a clear climax. There is no real “explosive” moment or a clearly powerful peak, either in the romance or in the political storyline. The cause is that the internal and external conflicts faced by the main characters are not built up to their full intensity. At the same time, the resolutions to the problems come too quickly and too easily. The emotional consequences of the choices made are too weak, and there is no moment of drastic change in the story's direction.
In my view, the storywriter should have been able to make better use of three key moments: the revelation of the ML’s true identity after he has already married and built a family with the FL, the revelation of the FL's family secret that is connected to the FL’s family massacre, and the exposure of political conspiracies in the capital. The problem is that the writer of POJ tends to turn high-stakes moments that should be tense and heart-wrenching into comedy. The writer seems unwilling to “break the relationship,” so the characters can rediscover and redefine their bond as their roles change. This issue is evident, for example, when the FL, through her recklessness, drugs the ML and causes him to miss a crucial battle. That should have been a defining turning point. Instead of turning it into comedic scenes, the story should have allowed ML to assert his authority as a military general. He needed to make his position unmistakably clear—confront her, show the weight of responsibility he carries, and force her to understand the gravity of her actions. A mistake of that scale demands consequences, yet he is too forgiving because of love. Another example, the final fight against the biggest enemies in the capital. This should’ve been high-stakes, with both leads working together. Instead, the stakes feel low because "they literally found the solution to their problems through dreams after having sex for the first time." How convenient, absurd, and ridiculous is that!
4# Character development. POJ is overly character-driven, with most of its focus placed on the FL. I don't mind that. But why does it have to turn her into yet another “female general”? Once the story moves in that direction—around episode 20—it begins to fall apart. It stops being a story about an inspiring, kind, loyal, and devoted wife, which was arguably the drama’s strongest foundation. Instead, the female lead embarks on an implausible military trajectory that raises more questions than it answers. Is it really that easy to become a general—with limited literacy, no formal education, minimum real battle experience, and only a small number of achievements? She rises to prominence almost overnight. The drama pushes too hard in its attempt to portray a “strong female character,” to the point where it becomes forced rather than convincing. It gives the impression that the story is trying to deliver a message of modern women’s empowerment, but in doing so, it imposes contemporary values too bluntly onto a historical setting, breaking the sense of authenticity.
Another sad thing: the heavy focus on the FL ends up wasting the ML. This is, frankly, the most frustrating part. He is introduced as the story's greatest military general, yet that aura fades after he meets, marries, and falls in love with the FL. His edge is dulled. The fierceness that once defined him fades, replaced by a character who feels passive, overly softened, and, at times, even ineffectual. He is repeatedly overshadowed by the FL. If this is meant to show that he becomes “a better man” through love, then the transformation is also poorly grounded. We are never shown a truly flawed version of him to begin with, so the supposed growth lacks meaning. Meanwhile, the imbalance in the action sequence and fighting is glaring. The FL is given continuous opportunities to prove herself on the battlefield, while the ML—despite his reputation—rarely takes center stage in combat. He seldom engages directly, and when he does, it lacks impact. This raises an uncomfortable question: is he still a central character, or merely reduced to a symbolic presence, there for handsome appearance rather than substance? His character loses credibility gradually for the sake of the FL's unearned promotion. There were so many opportunities for him to take stronger, more active roles: leading battles even while injured (which would’ve made him truly charismatic and heroic), or personally killing his greatest enemy (which would’ve served as emotional closure for his 17-year trauma). And then there’s the whipping—108 lashes—to prove his love. It makes no sense. He should be dead or at least crippled for weeks.
POJ is a very good example of the failure to maintain story quality, internal logic, and narrative realism. The imbalance of genres, the weak political conflict, the negative direction of character development, and the lack of a truly impactful climax all cause the narrative to lose direction and intensity. With its powerful and beautiful beginning, the weakness of the second half of the series makes viewers' disappointment even greater. It is a waste of the cast and the audience’s time. Even rewatching it feels unappealing, as it would only repeat the same feeling of disappointment. For viewers who avoid cheap romance and look for maturity, this drama is very, very unsatisfying. I give it a fairly good score only because I deeply appreciate the Lin’An arc.
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