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Heart-Pounding, Beautiful Romance, Sad Story
When I first started watching this drama, I, like many viewers who only made it through the first couple of episodes before dropping it, found it awkward. Liang Jie’s acting felt unnatural, the dialogue was stilted, and even Chen Zhe Yuan had his moments of awkwardness. However, I kept watching—partly because Chen Zhe Yuan looks incredible in tactical gear and partly because he won me over when he rescued the female lead and held her tightly to protect her. That moment was undeniably heart-throbbing.
Initially, my impression was quite critical. The script felt weak, the conversations lacked depth, and the romance scenes moved at a frustratingly slow pace. Even moments of physical contact felt cringeworthy. However, by episode 11, my perspective changed. I found myself moved, unexpectedly shedding tears as I began to feel the characters' pain, suffering, and emotional turmoil.
The first 11 episodes take place in war zones, immersing viewers in a world of chaos and danger. After that, the characters return to China, only for the male lead to head back to the war zone in episode 25, with the female lead following shortly after. By the time they both return to China in episode 37, they are broken.
Story & Themes
White Olive Tree is based on the experiences of Song Ran, who witnessed firsthand the horrors of a war-torn country, met Li Zan, and lost friends along the way. At its core, this is a story about PTSD—one that highlights how only those who have endured combat can truly understand each other’s pain.
It delves into the grim realities of war: terrorists planting landmines in fields, car bombs in crowded plazas, suicide attacks, and the ever-present fear of death. Beyond that, it’s a story of camaraderie, love, loss, and survival—a deeply disturbing yet hauntingly beautiful tale of romance set against a backdrop of war, courage, and heroism.
While the pacing is fast and tense during action sequences, it slows down significantly during romantic scenes. Dialogue is minimal, often relying on long pauses rather than words. However, despite the sparse conversation, the longing between the leads is palpable through their gazes.
Another theme this drama explores is the role of journalism in war reporting. While many reporters cover conflicts from the safety of hotel rooms, Song Ran immerses herself in the battlefield, capturing raw footage and firsthand accounts. Unlike journalists who chase fame and prestige—seeking recognition and lucrative rewards for their coverage—Song Ran is driven by a desire to reveal the unfiltered truth to the world.
This theme subtly critiques the bias of mainstream media, highlighting the contrast between sanitized, agenda-driven reporting and the unvarnished realities on the ground. It also underscores why platforms like TikTok have become a political battleground. While traditional media often relies on controlled narratives from a distance, grassroots reporting on social media has empowered ordinary people to document and share real-time footage, frequently challenging and exposing inaccuracies in mainstream coverage.
Characters & Acting
Li Zan (Chen Zhe Yuan)
Li Zan is a bomb expert, a professional building demolition engineer, and a volunteer diffuser in a foreign war-torn country that strongly resembles Syria. He is compassionate, selfless, and undeniably lovable, a role that Chen Zhe Yuan brings to life convincingly.
While he looks young and has an almost boyish charm, his performance in emotional scenes is commendable. His crying scenes are particularly raw and moving, capable of bringing viewers to tears. Despite his somewhat stiff and robotic voice at times, his portrayal of PTSD is gripping and heart-wrenching. His action scenes, particularly in tactical gear, are well-crafted and believable, making him captivating to watch.
Song Ran (Liang Jie)
Liang Jie naturally exudes an air of awkwardness, which works well for her portrayal of Song Ran, a war reporter. Initially, her character can be frustrating—she jumps to conclusions too quickly, is clueless about war zones, and is often oblivious to danger. However, as the story progresses and her backstory unfolds, her independent yet vulnerable nature becomes more understandable.
Having grown up without a mother and feeling like an outsider in her father’s new family, Song Ran developed a strong sense of independence. However, once she meets Li Zan, she finds herself relying on him, as he consistently has her back. Liang Jie’s acting improves significantly after episode 11, making her character much more likable.
Both Chen Zhe Yuan and Liang Jie have a youthful appearance, almost reminiscent of high school students, which at times makes their pairing feel slightly off in such a heavy setting.
Supporting Characters
The banter between Sa Xin and Benjamin is a highlight, with their playful insults adding humor to an otherwise intense story. However, the long pauses between their dialogues sometimes make their exchanges feel overly calculated, losing the natural spontaneity of real banter. That said, Benjamin, played brilliantly by Wang Tian Chen, stands out as one of the most compelling characters aside from Li Zan.
OST & Cinematic Elements
The soundtrack is a major strength of the drama, featuring beautiful slow ballads in both English and Chinese, often accompanied by acoustic instruments. The music enhances the emotional depth of the scenes, making moments of love, loss, and suffering even more poignant. At times, the combination of the soundtrack and the visuals is enough to move viewers to tears.
The cinematography successfully captures the realism of war zones, military barracks, and battle sequences. Explosions, gunfights, and chaotic war-torn landscapes are executed convincingly.
Final Thoughts
The setting of the war zone bears a striking resemblance to Syria, and the political undertones of the story evoke real-world conflicts. The thought of a foreign superpower toppling a government that Li Zan is volunteering for, leaving the region in ruins and handing control over to terrorists who kill innocent civilians that Li Zan and his friends are trying to save, is deeply unsettling. The drama subtly mirrors these harsh realities, making its themes all the more impactful.
While I was initially critical of the acting and dialogue, the emotional depth of the later episodes won me over. Those who have experienced war or PTSD may find this drama particularly resonant. Beyond its romance, it paints a harrowing picture of the tragedies faced by people in war zones—parallels that may evoke sympathy for the struggles of Palestinians, Syrians, and others suffering in conflict-ridden regions.
Despite its awkward moments and slow pacing in certain areas, the intensity of the bomb disposal scenes and combat sequences compensates for these shortcomings. The war-torn landscapes feel authentic, and the emotional weight of the story lingers long after the credits roll. However, the length of the series begins to drag, particularly around episode 30, making it a challenge to endure all the angst and suffering alongside the characters.
The drama currently holds a low rating of 5.4 on Douban, likely due to, among others, its ambiguous ending, where the leads seemingly vanish and reappear in spiritual form, leaving viewers questioning their fate. Though the wounds on Li Zan's body have healed, the scars in his heart and mind last forever. The final message—that sometimes death is preferable to living in endless pain—is hauntingly tragic. The ending forces one to reflect on sacrifice, war, and the depths of human suffering, leaving an emotional imprint long after the last scene fades.
Side note
According to a viewer who has read the novel, dropped the drama and gave it a 4.5 rating, the original story has been drastically altered, diluting the emotional depth of the romance and making it far less heart-wrenching. While Chen Zhe Yuan delivers a brilliant performance as Li Zan, the screenplay does a disservice to Song Ran, reducing her character to an unlikable and poorly developed version of her novel counterpart.
Despite these flaws in the adaptation, I still love the story. I can only imagine how much more inspiring and emotionally impactful the original work must have been.
Great watch! Prepare to cry!
Initially, my impression was quite critical. The script felt weak, the conversations lacked depth, and the romance scenes moved at a frustratingly slow pace. Even moments of physical contact felt cringeworthy. However, by episode 11, my perspective changed. I found myself moved, unexpectedly shedding tears as I began to feel the characters' pain, suffering, and emotional turmoil.
The first 11 episodes take place in war zones, immersing viewers in a world of chaos and danger. After that, the characters return to China, only for the male lead to head back to the war zone in episode 25, with the female lead following shortly after. By the time they both return to China in episode 37, they are broken.
Story & Themes
White Olive Tree is based on the experiences of Song Ran, who witnessed firsthand the horrors of a war-torn country, met Li Zan, and lost friends along the way. At its core, this is a story about PTSD—one that highlights how only those who have endured combat can truly understand each other’s pain.
It delves into the grim realities of war: terrorists planting landmines in fields, car bombs in crowded plazas, suicide attacks, and the ever-present fear of death. Beyond that, it’s a story of camaraderie, love, loss, and survival—a deeply disturbing yet hauntingly beautiful tale of romance set against a backdrop of war, courage, and heroism.
While the pacing is fast and tense during action sequences, it slows down significantly during romantic scenes. Dialogue is minimal, often relying on long pauses rather than words. However, despite the sparse conversation, the longing between the leads is palpable through their gazes.
Another theme this drama explores is the role of journalism in war reporting. While many reporters cover conflicts from the safety of hotel rooms, Song Ran immerses herself in the battlefield, capturing raw footage and firsthand accounts. Unlike journalists who chase fame and prestige—seeking recognition and lucrative rewards for their coverage—Song Ran is driven by a desire to reveal the unfiltered truth to the world.
This theme subtly critiques the bias of mainstream media, highlighting the contrast between sanitized, agenda-driven reporting and the unvarnished realities on the ground. It also underscores why platforms like TikTok have become a political battleground. While traditional media often relies on controlled narratives from a distance, grassroots reporting on social media has empowered ordinary people to document and share real-time footage, frequently challenging and exposing inaccuracies in mainstream coverage.
Characters & Acting
Li Zan (Chen Zhe Yuan)
Li Zan is a bomb expert, a professional building demolition engineer, and a volunteer diffuser in a foreign war-torn country that strongly resembles Syria. He is compassionate, selfless, and undeniably lovable, a role that Chen Zhe Yuan brings to life convincingly.
While he looks young and has an almost boyish charm, his performance in emotional scenes is commendable. His crying scenes are particularly raw and moving, capable of bringing viewers to tears. Despite his somewhat stiff and robotic voice at times, his portrayal of PTSD is gripping and heart-wrenching. His action scenes, particularly in tactical gear, are well-crafted and believable, making him captivating to watch.
Song Ran (Liang Jie)
Liang Jie naturally exudes an air of awkwardness, which works well for her portrayal of Song Ran, a war reporter. Initially, her character can be frustrating—she jumps to conclusions too quickly, is clueless about war zones, and is often oblivious to danger. However, as the story progresses and her backstory unfolds, her independent yet vulnerable nature becomes more understandable.
Having grown up without a mother and feeling like an outsider in her father’s new family, Song Ran developed a strong sense of independence. However, once she meets Li Zan, she finds herself relying on him, as he consistently has her back. Liang Jie’s acting improves significantly after episode 11, making her character much more likable.
Both Chen Zhe Yuan and Liang Jie have a youthful appearance, almost reminiscent of high school students, which at times makes their pairing feel slightly off in such a heavy setting.
Supporting Characters
The banter between Sa Xin and Benjamin is a highlight, with their playful insults adding humor to an otherwise intense story. However, the long pauses between their dialogues sometimes make their exchanges feel overly calculated, losing the natural spontaneity of real banter. That said, Benjamin, played brilliantly by Wang Tian Chen, stands out as one of the most compelling characters aside from Li Zan.
OST & Cinematic Elements
The soundtrack is a major strength of the drama, featuring beautiful slow ballads in both English and Chinese, often accompanied by acoustic instruments. The music enhances the emotional depth of the scenes, making moments of love, loss, and suffering even more poignant. At times, the combination of the soundtrack and the visuals is enough to move viewers to tears.
The cinematography successfully captures the realism of war zones, military barracks, and battle sequences. Explosions, gunfights, and chaotic war-torn landscapes are executed convincingly.
Final Thoughts
The setting of the war zone bears a striking resemblance to Syria, and the political undertones of the story evoke real-world conflicts. The thought of a foreign superpower toppling a government that Li Zan is volunteering for, leaving the region in ruins and handing control over to terrorists who kill innocent civilians that Li Zan and his friends are trying to save, is deeply unsettling. The drama subtly mirrors these harsh realities, making its themes all the more impactful.
While I was initially critical of the acting and dialogue, the emotional depth of the later episodes won me over. Those who have experienced war or PTSD may find this drama particularly resonant. Beyond its romance, it paints a harrowing picture of the tragedies faced by people in war zones—parallels that may evoke sympathy for the struggles of Palestinians, Syrians, and others suffering in conflict-ridden regions.
Despite its awkward moments and slow pacing in certain areas, the intensity of the bomb disposal scenes and combat sequences compensates for these shortcomings. The war-torn landscapes feel authentic, and the emotional weight of the story lingers long after the credits roll. However, the length of the series begins to drag, particularly around episode 30, making it a challenge to endure all the angst and suffering alongside the characters.
The drama currently holds a low rating of 5.4 on Douban, likely due to, among others, its ambiguous ending, where the leads seemingly vanish and reappear in spiritual form, leaving viewers questioning their fate. Though the wounds on Li Zan's body have healed, the scars in his heart and mind last forever. The final message—that sometimes death is preferable to living in endless pain—is hauntingly tragic. The ending forces one to reflect on sacrifice, war, and the depths of human suffering, leaving an emotional imprint long after the last scene fades.
Side note
According to a viewer who has read the novel, dropped the drama and gave it a 4.5 rating, the original story has been drastically altered, diluting the emotional depth of the romance and making it far less heart-wrenching. While Chen Zhe Yuan delivers a brilliant performance as Li Zan, the screenplay does a disservice to Song Ran, reducing her character to an unlikable and poorly developed version of her novel counterpart.
Despite these flaws in the adaptation, I still love the story. I can only imagine how much more inspiring and emotionally impactful the original work must have been.
Great watch! Prepare to cry!
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