Out of expectation!
"The Truth" does not rely on sensory stimulation to attract attention, nor does it depend on sensational or gimmicky shots to appear innovative. There is no pretentious wordplay or affected posturing. Instead, it is simple and realistic: a group of people each doing their job, handling one case after another. It feels grounded and true to life—especially relatable for working people.Solving crimes involves danger and hardship. When busy, they barely have time to eat a hot meal; they spend little time with their families. Even during downtime, they must remain on call at all times. They may have to leave halfway through a movie or walk away in the middle of a date. The series shows the real working conditions of criminal investigators. The peace and stability we enjoy come from the burdens they shoulder.
The characters are not distant or lofty figures, nor are they unrealistically glorified. The show does not deliberately dramatize suffering for emotional manipulation. Ye Qian carries scars in his heart, yet he never complains to others; instead, he devotes himself fully to solving cases. Leng Qiming’s father is ill, and he handles everything alone without resentment or negativity. They are not flawless heroes—they are ordinary people in everyday life.
This authenticity makes the emotional portrayal convincing and the plot immersive. Yet their sense of mission and responsibility enables them to perform heroic deeds in ordinary positions. The brutality revealed in the dismemberment case, the moral ambiguity in the body-dumping case—every day they confront the darkest aspects of humanity, all for the sake of public peace. As the title suggests: leave no room for luck—there is no perfect crime. When the wind passes, it leaves traces.
As for Gong Jun, his portrayal of Ye Qian is equally subtle and understated. Without exaggerated movements or dramatic gestures, he conveys complexity through restraint. For example, when he learns that Dan Qing is the partner of a drug trafficker, and later while practicing at the shooting range, his eyes reveal hatred, anger, and inner conflict—hatred for his former cowardice, anger at his emotional wavering, and the struggle between professional duty and personal affection. His micro-expressions are precisely controlled, and his body language is detailed and natural, making the character deeply convincing.
There is also the scene where he pretends to accept a date, is drugged by Dan Qing, drinks water in the room, then vomits violently in the bathroom as memories flash through his mind. The audience does not feel that they are watching a performance; it is as if the actor and the character have become one. What viewers see is not exaggerated theatricality, but someone living authentically in a real space—without visible traces of acting. At that moment, he is not Gong Jun; he is Ye Qian.
In today’s film and television market, where audiences increasingly seek authenticity, it is only natural that "The Truth", with its realistic storytelling and genuine performances, has been well received.
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