Reviews

The Early Spring, or How to Turn a Workplace Complaint Into a Love Story

I wasn't actually planning to review The Early Spring.

I put it on hold once, came back, made it to episode 13 and finally accepted that my grown-up self was objecting more often than my drama-watching self was having fun.

Truthfully, judging purely by where I thought the writing was heading, I probably wouldn't have made it past episode 3.

Somehow I made it to episode 13.

This is what happens when a questionable script is surrounded by attractive people, good styling and Jing Boran looking emotionally unavailable in expensive coats.

I am not immune.

Put that man in a tasteful knit sweater, give him unresolved emotional issues and let him stare pensively through an office window, and apparently my critical judgment develops a ten-episode processing delay.

So believe me, I understand the appeal.

Unfortunately, eventually the paperwork cleared.

And underneath all the talk about how "realistic," "mature" and refreshingly adult this romance is, I kept finding something much more familiar: a fairly conventional workplace fantasy that has discovered sex, muted cinematography and better tailoring.

Which, admittedly, is excellent rebranding.

To be fair, there are things The Early Spring does well.

It looks good. The production is polished without becoming excessively glossy, and the advertising setting gives the drama a distinctive environment for the romance. There are recognizable elements of workplace ambition, exhaustion, competition and hierarchy, even if I don't always buy the situations built around them.

Sun Qian gives Shang Zhitao an appealing awkwardness early on. She feels inexperienced without being completely incapable, and I liked watching her slowly find her footing.

And Jing Boran is extremely well cast as Luan Nian.

That is actually important, because Luan Nian is a character who depends enormously on the audience wanting to keep looking at him long enough to discover what exists underneath all that arrogance.

Jing Boran makes that very easy.

Possibly too easy.

He usually chooses his scripts rather carefully. I suppose even discerning actors are allowed the occasional commercial holiday.

There is also chemistry between the leads. Some of their attraction develops nicely through irritation, observation, proximity and those tiny shifts where two people start paying suspiciously close attention to someone they supposedly don't care about.

I understand why people are hooked.

And yes, chemistry matters enormously in a romance. But if "the chemistry is amazing" has become the final defense of a twenty-four-episode drama, I do start wondering what exactly the other twenty-three hours are supposed to be doing.

Chemistry is the spark. Long-form storytelling is supposed to build the fire.

That's the whole advantage of the format. It has time for attraction to become intimacy, intimacy to reveal character, conflict to produce consequences and those consequences to actually change people.

If two charismatic actors looking very good while wanting each other is enough to carry the entire thing, then we've reduced long-form romance to a short drama with longer loading times.

Watchability and good storytelling aren't the same thing.

My problem is what the screenplay keeps asking me to interpret as complexity.

Take Shang Zhitao's job interview. She is invited into a supposedly elite advertising company despite lacking the experience they apparently want, only for Luan Nian to point out those deficiencies during the interview.

Presumably somebody possessed her résumé before she entered the building.

But perhaps HR was going through something.

She gets hired anyway, of course, because this isn't really recruitment.

It's destiny wearing an employee badge.

Then there is the strange recurring pattern where Luan Nian behaves unnecessarily badly and somewhere inside the behavior we are expected to discover a lesson.

He humiliates, but he's teaching.

He dismisses, but he's observing.

He wastes her time, but he's teaching her that her time is valuable.

Which is certainly one way to do it.

Another might be not wasting it.

At some point I stopped watching a manager and started watching a handsome corporate escape room.

Find the hidden lesson before your self-esteem expires.

And this is where the "realistic workplace" argument starts losing me.

Yes, parts of the environment are recognizable. Young employees get exploited. Offices have hierarchies. People work ridiculous hours. Colleagues dump work on one another. Bosses can be arrogant. Talented people can also be terrible managers.

All true.

But recognizable details don't automatically make the machinery around them realistic.

Shang Zhitao gets pushed around.

Luan Nian appears.

She works late.

Luan Nian appears.

She needs a ride home.

Somewhere, Luan Nian's car senses narrative opportunity.

The company may have several departments, but the screenplay has one:

Romance Logistics.

And this is also where The Early Spring starts feeling like part of a larger trend I've been noticing in long-form dramas lately:

the short-drama recipe has escaped containment.

Manufactured proximity, convenient coincidences, sexual tension and carefully timed emotional spikes aren't inherently bad storytelling. Short dramas practically run on them, and they're effective for a reason: they keep people watching.

But effectiveness at holding attention isn't necessarily the same thing as effectiveness at telling a story.

Long-form has something short-form doesn't: time. Time to let attraction become intimacy, conflict produce consequences and characters actually change between plot beats rather than because the next one requires it.

Borrowing short-form's immediacy isn't the problem.

Letting immediacy replace development is.

When long-form starts borrowing short-form's addiction to immediate payoff while abandoning its own patience, we end up with an interesting exchange:

short-form storytelling with long-form running times.

And considering how enthusiastically the industry seems to be experimenting with it, it will be interesting to see where that eventually takes long-form drama.

At this rate, AI may not even get the chance to ruin it.

The writers may beat it to the job.

I just wish we'd stop confusing the absence of accidental kisses and cartoon CEOs with documentary realism.

The same applies to the relationship.

I have absolutely no problem with flawed people falling in love. In costume dramas I have watched couples survive attempted murder and thought, "you know what, I see the vision."

My issue isn't that Luan Nian is difficult.

My issue is that backstory is not character development.

Learning why someone behaves the way they do can make that person understandable. It can create sympathy. It can add context.

But explanation isn't transformation.

Knowing why somebody keeps setting the kitchen on fire doesn't make the kitchen less on fire.

And "he's flawed" cannot become a universal diplomatic passport that gets a character through every checkpoint.

Of course he's flawed.

So is Shang Zhitao.

She can be insecure, avoidant and frustratingly poor at communicating. In fact, the potentially interesting story here isn't "toxic man versus innocent woman" at all. It's two people whose weaknesses fit together terribly well: one has too much pride; the other begins with too little confidence.

That's interesting.

What bothers me is the power structure underneath it.

Luan Nian begins as the established superior: professionally secure, socially confident and holding actual authority in the workplace. Shang Zhitao begins as the inexperienced subordinate trying to establish herself.

That doesn't mean they can never have an equal relationship.

It means the drama has given itself the responsibility of convincingly showing how they get there.

And maybe the remaining eleven episodes eventually do.

But thirteen episodes is a fairly generous amount of time to ask me to keep waiting for the relationship to become the relationship the drama apparently wants me to believe in.

Up to the point where I stopped, the trajectory felt less like:

they grow toward equality

and more like:

she grows until she becomes worthy of standing beside him.

Those are not quite the same story.

And then we arrive at my favorite word surrounding this drama:

realistic.

They fight?

Realistic.

They misunderstand each other?

Realistic.

They have sex without immediately discussing marriage?

Adults!

They spend years struggling to communicate?

Finally, a drama understands relationships!

By this standard, half of MDL qualifies as cinéma vérité.

Yes, people really do stay in unhealthy relationships. People sleep with people who are bad for them. They fail to communicate. They repeat patterns. They love people who frustrate them. They waste years. They change. Sometimes they eventually make it work.

All realistic.

But something being possible in real life doesn't automatically make its depiction psychologically convincing or its storytelling realistic.

People also win lotteries.

The screenplay still has to sell me the ticket.

And if we're going to invoke realism so enthusiastically, there is another perfectly realistic ending available:

Shang Zhitao grows up, becomes professionally secure, looks back at six years of emotional exhaustion and sends Luan Nian directly to a thousand hells.

Then she chooses her career.

Or herself.

Or another man.

Or nobody.

And Luan Nian's eventual emotional awakening becomes what emotional awakenings very often are in real life:

too late.

That would be realistic too.

Instead, we know what kind of story we're watching. All this messiness is ultimately moving toward romantic permanence.

And that's fine.

It's a romance.

But then perhaps dysfunction shouldn't automatically become evidence of realism simply because the happy ending takes six years to arrive.

Which brings me back to the reason I somehow lasted ten episodes longer than expected.

Take away the styling, the chemistry and all the attractive people. Take Jing Boran out of those suits, coats and strategically deployed states of undress, and leave the writing to fend for itself.

Would I still have made it to episode 13?

Absolutely not.

I would have been gone by episode 3 with remarkable efficiency.

So while the writing never quite managed to convince me, the eye candy clearly mounted a heroic delaying action.

Ten extra episodes is no small achievement.

And I do understand why the drama works for so many people. There is chemistry. There are good performances and appealing scenes. The production has atmosphere. The characters aren't sanitized into perfect romantic leads, and if you're tired of sugary modern romances, I can see why this feels like a more interesting alternative.

Where I part ways is with the idea that messiness itself proves maturity, or that finding this relationship unconvincing means failing to understand its characters.

Sometimes two viewers understand exactly what a drama is doing and simply disagree about whether it works.

That's criticism.

And perhaps that's why I finally wrote this review.

People should be able to enjoy The Early Spring without having to defend it as a masterclass in realistic relationships.

And the rest of us should be allowed to look at the same six-year romantic journey and conclude that Luan Nian being complicated doesn't automatically make the writing around him complex.

I understood him.

I just didn't particularly want another eleven episodes with him.

So after two attempts, thirteen episodes and a heroic amount of assistance from Jing Boran's face, I finally dropped The Early Spring.

My drama brain considered continuing.

My grown-up brain filed a workplace complaint.

For once, management listened.

The coat remains excellent.

5.5/10. Half the points may or may not be wearing Jing Boran.

Read More

Entertaining mindless corruption meets cuteness

This drama is in no way a masterpiece, nor dees it have anything new to bring to the table but it works. Plot predictable as it may be has a decent pace and keeps things going from start to finish.

Does everything make perfect sense? No

Where there moments of over acting? Yes

Did I need to use my brain? No, not for one second. Which made this a decent de stress waiting for the last episodes of my other de-stress drama to come out.

The leads are attractive, their chemistry and acting is good. The development is nice and there are a lot of haertflutteing moments making me go oooh how cute. The friendships are decent too.

Making it lovely binge.

Read More

A horrible mom makes for an interesting show

After the disaster that was Only You I couldn’t even make it past episode 1 In Love Forever was actually a really pleasant surprise. I found the series genuinely interesting because of the topics it explores: the control and manipulation of toxic parents, the responsibility children can feel toward their parents, and how a married couple deals with the struggles within their marriage.

Runch and Neen’s relationship… Honestly, what they go through is so unfair. You know they deeply love each other, but they can’t even live their relationship peacefully because Runch’s mother is completely insane and extremely controlling. And when you finally find out the reasons behind her behavior… it’s absolutely ridiculous.

But let’s talk about THE standout character of this series: Kingkamol. Yes, I hated her from beginning to end, but why is this woman so funny?! She was honestly the best entertainment in the entire show. THIS is what I call a proper drama villain: she is literally willing to do ANYTHING to stop her daughter from ending up with her love interest.

And Runch, my little cutie pie… I absolutely loved her character. She’s going through it from every possible direction: her mother is controlling, mean, and toxic, she gets bullied at work, and on top of that, everyone thinks she only got her job because her wife has a higher position than her. Seriously, being Runch is NOT easy. She deserved so much better.

Episode 11, though, is literally the worst episode of the entire series. Throughout the show, Neen is constantly suffering physically, and it all gets brushed aside like it’s nothing. That really frustrated me. And I especially hated that Kingkamol got a redemption arc after she literally destroyed her daughter’s marriage. Runch truly deserved better parents.

Thankfully, the ending satisfied me. I really wanted Runch to stop talking to her mother, AND I GOT EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED.

Overall, I absolutely loved watching this series. I feel like I’m in the minority here, but honestly, it was such an entertaining lakorn. I had so much fun watching it, and I genuinely got attached to the characters.

Read More

Cute, Chaotic, and Completely Addictive

This is a sweet, funny and incredibly easy-to-watch university BL that doesn't try to reinvent the genre. Instead, it takes a familiar setup and fills it with enough charm, chaos and genuinely lovable characters to make it work.
The story follows Duang, an energetic and hopelessly enthusiastic university student who immediately falls for Qin, a popular but incredibly reserved music student. While Duang has absolutely no intention of hiding his feelings, Qin is basically the human equivalent of a locked door. So naturally, Duang decides that the only reasonable thing to do is to keep knocking until Qin lets him in. And honestly? Watching him try is half the fun.

Duang could have been an extremely annoying character. He is loud, dramatic, impulsive, ridiculously optimistic and completely incapable of hiding how he feels about Qin. But somehow, it works. His exaggerated reactions, silly plans and endless determination to win Qin over gave the drama most of its comedic energy. Yes, sometimes Duang is a lot. But that's exactly what makes him Duang. And what I appreciated even more is that beneath all the comedy, he's actually a genuinely good person. He's sincere. He's supportive. He's affectionate without being ashamed of it. And most importantly, he doesn't give up on Qin simply because Qin isn't immediately capable of giving him what he wants.

If Duang is sunshine at maximum brightness, Qin is basically a rainy day. He's quiet, guarded and emotionally difficult to read.
At first, it can be tempting to think that he's simply cold or uninterested, but the drama slowly reveals that there is much more going on underneath. Qin has learned to keep people at a distance, and watching those walls gradually come down was one of my favorite parts of the story.
I particularly liked that the drama doesn't suddenly transform him into a completely different person once he falls for Duang.
He's still reserved. He's still cautious. He still struggles with expressing what he feels. But little by little, he starts allowing Duang into his world.

Duang is constantly moving toward Qin, while Qin spends half the drama wondering what on earth to do with this human ray of sunshine who has decided to make him the center of his universe. The contrast between them creates most of the comedy, but it also gives the romance its emotional foundation. Their chemistry isn't based solely on physical attraction.It's in the little things. The looks. The awkward pauses. The moments when Qin starts smiling without realizing it. And, most importantly, the way their relationship gradually becomes less about Duang chasing Qin and more about Qin choosing to let Duang stay.

I genuinely laughed a lot while watching this. The comedy is intentionally exaggerated, with physical humor, dramatic reactions, playful sound effects and Duang's increasingly ridiculous attempts to get closer to Qin.
Some of it is completely absurd. And that's exactly why it works.
Duang's friends are also a huge part of this. Jamie and Pae are basically the supportive friends everyone needs when you're making terrible romantic decisions. They know Duang is probably being ridiculous. They encourage him anyway.

One of the things I appreciated most is how gradually the relationship changes both characters. Duang starts out believing that persistence is enough. Qin starts out believing that keeping people away is safer. Neither of them is completely right.
As they grow closer, Duang learns that loving someone also means understanding their boundaries and their emotional needs.
Qin learns that accepting affection isn't a weakness. Their relationship therefore becomes more than just "sunshine character falls for cold character." They actually make each other better.

Duang With You is sweet, funny, warm and surprisingly comforting.
Sometimes you need to watch a ridiculously enthusiastic guy fall hopelessly in love with a beautiful, emotionally unavailable musician and spend twelve episodes making everyone around him deal with it.
It's cute without being completely empty, funny without taking away from the emotional moments, and romantic without needing to constantly manufacture unnecessary drama.

Read More

YOU MANIAC IS AMAZING!!

You guys I don’t even know what to say…but “you maniac” is PERFECT!! firstly, the soundtrack…coloring, and the PRODUCTION?? It’s absolutely amazing!! they put lots of love into the series and it shows!! and the acting is surreal! william and est They’ve developed so so much! you can literally SEE and feel the emotions through the screen! their micro expressions TOP TEIR, and do NOT get me started on the boat scene. 👀 it made me genuinely want to sob..that’s how good it is! there’s so much I want to say, but unfortunately we’d be here forever. BUT IM SO PROUDD GREAT JOB YOU MANIAC TEAMM!!❤️‍🔥🚩

Read More

The beauty of growing up

From the very beginning, it felt like every scene, every conversation, and every little detail had a purpose. It isn't the kind of story that rushes to its destination. Instead, it takes its time, allowing every moment to breathe and giving even the smallest interactions a deeper meaning. The orange tree at the center of the story became so much more than just a setting. It quietly connected the characters, their memories, and their growth, turning something so ordinary into one of the drama's most meaningful symbols. More than anything, I loved how this drama captured the feeling of growing up. It explores the uncertainty, the dreams, the mistakes, and the people who shape us along the way with so much warmth and sincerity.
Every episode left me with something to think about, often ending with a simple line that carried more weight than an entire speech. This was also my first drama with both leads, and I couldn't have asked for a better introduction. They completely won me over. Their performances felt so natural, and their chemistry made every emotional moment even more believable.
By the end, I wasn't just attached to the story, I was already looking forward to seeing more of their work.
It may not be the loudest drama of the year, but it's one of the most heartfelt. It's a quiet reminder to appreciate the people we meet, the memories we make, and every stage of growing up. Those are the stories that stay with you the longest.

Read More

Bound by duty, drawn by love

What made this drama so special wasn't just the story, but the people at the heart of it. Every character felt like a real person with their own fears, dreams, and flaws, and that made it so easy to become emotionally attached to them. I found myself celebrating their happiest moments, feeling frustrated by their mistakes, and hurting alongside them whenever things fell apart. The leads were beautifully written. Their relationship wasn't built on grand gestures, but on trust, understanding, and choosing each other even when life made that choice difficult. Watching them grow individually before growing together made every emotional payoff feel completely deserved. I also loved that the supporting characters weren't there just to move the plot forward. They all had meaningful arcs, their own struggles to overcome, and relationships that felt just as important as the main story. By the end, they truly felt like one big family. The performances only made everything stronger. Every emotion felt sincere, and there wasn't a single character that felt out of place. By the finale, I realized I wasn't ready to say goodbye to any of them, and for me that's always the biggest sign that a drama has done something right. This is one of those stories that reminds you it's the characters, more than the plot, that stay with you long after it's over.

Read More

Don't judge a drama by its title

I have to say it... this title did this drama absolutely no favors. If I had judged it by the name alone, I wouldn't have even given it a chance. I genuinely thought it was going to be cringey and over-the-top, but it turned out to be such a refreshing surprise. I found myself laughing way more than I expected because the humor was genuinely funny instead of trying too hard. The comedy felt light, quirky, and self-aware, making it an incredibly easy watch. It won't be the deepest or most memorable drama I've ever seen, but it completely exceeded my expectations. Sometimes the biggest surprises are the ones you almost skip because of a terrible title.

Read More

A little too wholesome for it's name. LOVED IT!!

You might expect this one to be disgustingly gross cz of it's name. Trust me it isn't. It's soo damn cute and wholesome. Unlike the manga which is also adorable they've toned down on the NC making their much more adorable.

I absolutely love my babies Oji and Ai🥺🥺. I'm totally gonna miss Oji's weirdness and Ai's cuteness. For a 15 min drama, it was on par with full length dramas. I kinda expected this to me like "unexpectedly naughty fukami kun" just like everyone else who watched this on air cz of the poster, title and duration which were quite similar but no this one is much much better.

Guys please don't go with the name🤣🤣 It's just Oji falls in love with Ai at 1st sight and Ai was kinda looking for a top to have a one night stand with. Oji may seem creepy but he is an absolute green flag. He asks for consent and loves Ai a lot. Just watch it. You'll love it.

Read More

More delicious food and recipes, and focus on growing family and family business.

The second season of “Nagatan and Aoto: Ichika’s Cook Book” continues to bring us delicious food and educational cooking demonstrations and recipes. Now that Ichika has found her place in the kitchen and continues to run the family business, the focus this season is on growing the business and growing the family.

The romance here is mature and supportive, and I might have missed the shy adorableness in season 1. It’s less about Kitchen Knife and Green Chili Pepper, but about family and Kuwanoki. I adore seeing how their little family grows and particularly enjoy the addition of little Michiya. He’s so adorable and the acting by the child actor, Mano Kota, is really good.

On the other hand, I am not sure how I feel about the second brother, Sakae. He gives off such a creepy feeling with his fake smile. Each time he shows up, he gives me the creeps and I want him off my screen. I also think his arc ended a little too easily. Given the havoc he created, I don’t think he suffers enough. He’s a disrespectful creature.

I don’t remember a whole lot in season 1, but I feel that there’s more international cuisine in this season than the last. But I could have misremembered as well.

This is an easy to watch slice-of-life drama about family and family business. It features delicious food that might inspire those who like to cook. My vague gut feeling tells me I might have enjoyed season 1 more, probably because of the romance. I would recommend this season if you enjoy the first.


Drama Completed: 9/7/2026 Review #720

Read More