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This review may contain spoilers
When everyone’s lying but somehow the plot’s still buying.
After two failed attempts, Zhao Yi Qin finally managed to hold my attention in Provoke. Third time’s the charm, I guess. Something about his performance here—measured, sharp, and simmering—finally worked. Maybe it’s the noir-esque tone, maybe it’s the chemistry, or maybe I was just too entertained by the sheer audacity of this plot to look away.
And audacious it is. Hidden identities? Check. But not just one—both leads are masquerading as someone else. He’s pretending to be the son, she’s pretending to be the mistress of the same man. I mean, either that guy was incredibly gullible, or they were counting on everyone around them being too confused to ask questions. Suspension of disbelief? Hanging by a thread.
Then there are the moments that border on parody. One man fending off a dozen attackers because his sidekick took too long to fetch help—apparently from men who won’t throw a punch unless they’re in fedoras and three-piece suits. The dry-cleaning bill alone could fund a sequel. And let’s not forget Susu (now Jingyi) pulling off a full-on Houdini act—escaping from a sack buried underground when she was a mere child. I’ve seen zombies come back with less determination.
Even the hospital hideout scenes had me raising an eyebrow. Secret doors in operating rooms? Sure, the patients won’t notice—they’re probably too busy being unconscious. Amid all the clever ploys, it’s hard not to think our leads survived mostly through dumb luck. Their tension was delicious, but I half-expected a “brother” slip-up to kill the mood, which might explain the suspicious lack of smooches.
The grand finale, though? Less a bang, more a whimper. I wanted Susu to rise and reclaim everything, not ride off on a train like she missed her stop. Still, I’ll give this drama credit where it’s due: beneath the melodrama, the redemption arcs of Wan Yi and Bao Qi were surprisingly thoughtful. Messy, absurd, but oddly satisfying—kind of like the drama itself.
And audacious it is. Hidden identities? Check. But not just one—both leads are masquerading as someone else. He’s pretending to be the son, she’s pretending to be the mistress of the same man. I mean, either that guy was incredibly gullible, or they were counting on everyone around them being too confused to ask questions. Suspension of disbelief? Hanging by a thread.
Then there are the moments that border on parody. One man fending off a dozen attackers because his sidekick took too long to fetch help—apparently from men who won’t throw a punch unless they’re in fedoras and three-piece suits. The dry-cleaning bill alone could fund a sequel. And let’s not forget Susu (now Jingyi) pulling off a full-on Houdini act—escaping from a sack buried underground when she was a mere child. I’ve seen zombies come back with less determination.
Even the hospital hideout scenes had me raising an eyebrow. Secret doors in operating rooms? Sure, the patients won’t notice—they’re probably too busy being unconscious. Amid all the clever ploys, it’s hard not to think our leads survived mostly through dumb luck. Their tension was delicious, but I half-expected a “brother” slip-up to kill the mood, which might explain the suspicious lack of smooches.
The grand finale, though? Less a bang, more a whimper. I wanted Susu to rise and reclaim everything, not ride off on a train like she missed her stop. Still, I’ll give this drama credit where it’s due: beneath the melodrama, the redemption arcs of Wan Yi and Bao Qi were surprisingly thoughtful. Messy, absurd, but oddly satisfying—kind of like the drama itself.
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