Ctrl + Love
Li Xun is the kind of brilliant, arrogant coding prodigy who couldn’t care less about fitting into college norms, and that attitude quickly puts him at odds with everyone around him. Zhu Yun is a warm, well-behaved girl who believes in rules, routines, and doing things the “right” way. Their worlds collide, and despite being unsettled by Li Xun’s rebellious streak, Zhu Yun finds herself irresistibly pulled into his orbit. Just as their connection begins to deepen, a devastating turning point crashes into their lives, forcing them apart and putting their fragile romance through a brutal test.
Lighter & Princess is one of those dramas that slowly pulls you in, then refuses to let go. The opening is admittedly a bit unhurried, but the story doesn’t linger too long before reuniting Li Xun and Zhu Yun, which immediately grounds the narrative emotionally. Once their paths cross again, the drama finds its footing and begins unfolding with surprising depth.
Visually, this drama deserves serious praise. The styling does a fantastic job distinguishing timelines without being over-the-top. From college to their mid-twenties, Li Xun and Zhu Yun’s appearances subtly evolve in ways that reflect who they’ve become. It’s especially effective with Li Xun, whose sharper, more guarded look mirrors his emotional walls, while Zhu Yun’s styling reflects her quiet growth into someone more self-assured. These details add to the storytelling rather than distracting from it.
What truly elevates Lighter & Princess, though, is its characters. For an idol drama, the writing goes far deeper than expected. Li Xun isn’t a typical genius who succeeds effortlessly. His brilliance is paired with relentless effort, stubborn pride, and real consequences, including prison time, which is rare for the genre. He’s rough, domineering at times, emotionally guarded, but that sharpness often masks a deeply kind and loyal heart. Ironically, his biggest flaw might be how much he trusts. His faith in people like Gao Jian Hong, despite obvious red flags, speaks to his decency, even if it leads to painful betrayal. Gao Jian Hong himself is a frustratingly pathetic character, and while he’s infuriating to watch, he serves as a stark contrast to Li Xun’s sincerity. Watching Li Xun's journey, especially how he slowly softens, is one of the drama’s biggest strengths.
Zhu Yun is just as compelling. She’s not the fragile, passive female lead waiting to be rescued. While she has lived under her mother’s control for most of her life, she knows who she is and what she believes in. She takes charge, makes difficult decisions, and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Unlike many female leads who shy away from using their background or privilege, Zhu Yun acknowledges what she has and uses it decisively when her team is in trouble. Her courage shows not through loud rebellion, but through consistent action. She steps out of her comfort zone for Li Xun, protects him, challenges him, and gives him a kind of care he’s never really had. Also, her relationship with her mother can be suffocating and frustrating to watch, especially given how controlling it is, but that tension makes her quiet acts of rebellion feel meaningful. In contrast, her relationship with her father is genuinely heartwarming, particularly moments where he subtly shields her, like during New Year.
Li Xun and Zhu Yun's romance is where the drama truly shines. The pacing is deliberate, and thankfully so. They don’t fall into instant sweetness. They bicker, clash, and misunderstand each other before slowly learning how the other thinks and feels. That slow burn is what makes the payoff so satisfying, allowing the audience to enjoy the humor of their bickering, the tension beneath their growing care, and eventually the heart-fluttering moments when that care becomes impossible to hide. Their affection builds quietly, through small gestures and lingering looks, until it becomes undeniable. Episodes 15 and 16 are especially memorable. Their affection is subtle but loud. Moments like Zhu Yun’s first hug and Li Xun instinctively caressing her head carry more emotional weight than any dramatic confession could. The way Zhu Yun looks at Li Xun while he rewrites code feels like silent devotion, while his softened gaze toward her says everything about trust and commitment. Even the scene where he repeatedly asks “why” when she invites him to join the competition doesn’t feel domineering so much as him wanting to understand her heart better.
Li Xun’s jealousy moments add a surprising softness to his character. Beneath the cold exterior is someone deeply insecure about love, and watching him spiral over Zhu Yun’s admirer is both funny and endearing. His way of expressing care can be rough, even domineering, but it’s clear that this is how he gives attention to those he holds close. Zhu Yun understands this, meeting him at his pace instead of trying to change him. That mutual understanding makes their connection feel natural and earned.
Despite their bickering, Li Xun treats Zhu Yun like a princess in his own understated way. Whether it’s sneaking practice questions into a game he made for her, showing up sick just to see her on New Year, or delivering the iconic “did it for love” confession, his love is quiet but intentional. Zhu Yun, on the other hand, loves through action. She steps out of her comfort zone, becomes rebellious in the healthiest way, and offers Li Xun protection, care, and constant presence, things he has rarely experienced.
Once they officially get together, their relationship feels incredibly real. Their dating era is filled with skinship, teasing, clinginess, and playful banter that doesn’t feel scripted. Li Xun’s love language leans heavily toward physical affection, while Zhu Yun expresses hers through constant care and acts of service. The scene where they discuss the company name stands out, especially with Li Xun teasing Zhu Yun’s English pronunciation, a moment that feels less like acting and more like genuine affection slipping through. The three-year time skip is handled with warmth and intention. Rather than feeling like lost time, it feels as though their emotional clock paused and resumed when they reunited.
That said, the drama isn’t without flaws. Li Xun’s sudden closeness with Ren Di feels abrupt. One moment we’re watching Ren Di perform with her band, and the next Li Xun is investing in her and speaking like an old friend. A few teaser scenes or earlier interactions would have made that bond feel more organic. Another miss is how some emotional beats don’t land as strongly as they should. Li Xun’s reaction to learning about Zhu Yun’s struggles during his time in prison feels oddly restrained. Considering how strongly he reacts to jealousy, his relatively muted response to her depression lessens what could have been a powerful emotional payoff. His injury arc also suffers from inconsistent writing, shifting from something serious to something almost nonexistent as the story progresses. From a technical standpoint, there are minor production slips as well, such as an unsmooth camera movement toward the end of episode 35, something noticeable especially if you pay attention to filming details. These moments are noticeable, but they don’t significantly impact the viewing experience.
The ending leaves a bittersweet impression. Most characters receive closure, and the final scene brings everyone together in a warm, celebratory moment that marks Li Xun and Zhu Yun’s new beginning. However, the wrap-up feels slightly rushed, and Zhu Yun’s unresolved relationship with her mother lingers. Still, the emotional journey as a whole feels complete.
In the end, Lighter & Princess is more than just a romance. It’s a story about growth, timing, resilience, and choosing someone even when it’s difficult. It has its flaws, but its sincerity, layered characters, and emotionally grounded love story make it unforgettable. When it ends, it leaves behind that quiet emptiness reserved for stories that felt a little too real.
Lighter & Princess is one of those dramas that slowly pulls you in, then refuses to let go. The opening is admittedly a bit unhurried, but the story doesn’t linger too long before reuniting Li Xun and Zhu Yun, which immediately grounds the narrative emotionally. Once their paths cross again, the drama finds its footing and begins unfolding with surprising depth.
Visually, this drama deserves serious praise. The styling does a fantastic job distinguishing timelines without being over-the-top. From college to their mid-twenties, Li Xun and Zhu Yun’s appearances subtly evolve in ways that reflect who they’ve become. It’s especially effective with Li Xun, whose sharper, more guarded look mirrors his emotional walls, while Zhu Yun’s styling reflects her quiet growth into someone more self-assured. These details add to the storytelling rather than distracting from it.
What truly elevates Lighter & Princess, though, is its characters. For an idol drama, the writing goes far deeper than expected. Li Xun isn’t a typical genius who succeeds effortlessly. His brilliance is paired with relentless effort, stubborn pride, and real consequences, including prison time, which is rare for the genre. He’s rough, domineering at times, emotionally guarded, but that sharpness often masks a deeply kind and loyal heart. Ironically, his biggest flaw might be how much he trusts. His faith in people like Gao Jian Hong, despite obvious red flags, speaks to his decency, even if it leads to painful betrayal. Gao Jian Hong himself is a frustratingly pathetic character, and while he’s infuriating to watch, he serves as a stark contrast to Li Xun’s sincerity. Watching Li Xun's journey, especially how he slowly softens, is one of the drama’s biggest strengths.
Zhu Yun is just as compelling. She’s not the fragile, passive female lead waiting to be rescued. While she has lived under her mother’s control for most of her life, she knows who she is and what she believes in. She takes charge, makes difficult decisions, and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Unlike many female leads who shy away from using their background or privilege, Zhu Yun acknowledges what she has and uses it decisively when her team is in trouble. Her courage shows not through loud rebellion, but through consistent action. She steps out of her comfort zone for Li Xun, protects him, challenges him, and gives him a kind of care he’s never really had. Also, her relationship with her mother can be suffocating and frustrating to watch, especially given how controlling it is, but that tension makes her quiet acts of rebellion feel meaningful. In contrast, her relationship with her father is genuinely heartwarming, particularly moments where he subtly shields her, like during New Year.
Li Xun and Zhu Yun's romance is where the drama truly shines. The pacing is deliberate, and thankfully so. They don’t fall into instant sweetness. They bicker, clash, and misunderstand each other before slowly learning how the other thinks and feels. That slow burn is what makes the payoff so satisfying, allowing the audience to enjoy the humor of their bickering, the tension beneath their growing care, and eventually the heart-fluttering moments when that care becomes impossible to hide. Their affection builds quietly, through small gestures and lingering looks, until it becomes undeniable. Episodes 15 and 16 are especially memorable. Their affection is subtle but loud. Moments like Zhu Yun’s first hug and Li Xun instinctively caressing her head carry more emotional weight than any dramatic confession could. The way Zhu Yun looks at Li Xun while he rewrites code feels like silent devotion, while his softened gaze toward her says everything about trust and commitment. Even the scene where he repeatedly asks “why” when she invites him to join the competition doesn’t feel domineering so much as him wanting to understand her heart better.
Li Xun’s jealousy moments add a surprising softness to his character. Beneath the cold exterior is someone deeply insecure about love, and watching him spiral over Zhu Yun’s admirer is both funny and endearing. His way of expressing care can be rough, even domineering, but it’s clear that this is how he gives attention to those he holds close. Zhu Yun understands this, meeting him at his pace instead of trying to change him. That mutual understanding makes their connection feel natural and earned.
Despite their bickering, Li Xun treats Zhu Yun like a princess in his own understated way. Whether it’s sneaking practice questions into a game he made for her, showing up sick just to see her on New Year, or delivering the iconic “did it for love” confession, his love is quiet but intentional. Zhu Yun, on the other hand, loves through action. She steps out of her comfort zone, becomes rebellious in the healthiest way, and offers Li Xun protection, care, and constant presence, things he has rarely experienced.
Once they officially get together, their relationship feels incredibly real. Their dating era is filled with skinship, teasing, clinginess, and playful banter that doesn’t feel scripted. Li Xun’s love language leans heavily toward physical affection, while Zhu Yun expresses hers through constant care and acts of service. The scene where they discuss the company name stands out, especially with Li Xun teasing Zhu Yun’s English pronunciation, a moment that feels less like acting and more like genuine affection slipping through. The three-year time skip is handled with warmth and intention. Rather than feeling like lost time, it feels as though their emotional clock paused and resumed when they reunited.
That said, the drama isn’t without flaws. Li Xun’s sudden closeness with Ren Di feels abrupt. One moment we’re watching Ren Di perform with her band, and the next Li Xun is investing in her and speaking like an old friend. A few teaser scenes or earlier interactions would have made that bond feel more organic. Another miss is how some emotional beats don’t land as strongly as they should. Li Xun’s reaction to learning about Zhu Yun’s struggles during his time in prison feels oddly restrained. Considering how strongly he reacts to jealousy, his relatively muted response to her depression lessens what could have been a powerful emotional payoff. His injury arc also suffers from inconsistent writing, shifting from something serious to something almost nonexistent as the story progresses. From a technical standpoint, there are minor production slips as well, such as an unsmooth camera movement toward the end of episode 35, something noticeable especially if you pay attention to filming details. These moments are noticeable, but they don’t significantly impact the viewing experience.
The ending leaves a bittersweet impression. Most characters receive closure, and the final scene brings everyone together in a warm, celebratory moment that marks Li Xun and Zhu Yun’s new beginning. However, the wrap-up feels slightly rushed, and Zhu Yun’s unresolved relationship with her mother lingers. Still, the emotional journey as a whole feels complete.
In the end, Lighter & Princess is more than just a romance. It’s a story about growth, timing, resilience, and choosing someone even when it’s difficult. It has its flaws, but its sincerity, layered characters, and emotionally grounded love story make it unforgettable. When it ends, it leaves behind that quiet emptiness reserved for stories that felt a little too real.
Was this review helpful to you?
