Reviews

The Mafia Boss Found True Love!

Who would have ever imagined that a photographer would date a pretend-like mafia boss, that has all the money in the world? Guess Peachayarat found love in the hands of that man. Theerakit Kian Lee a.k.a 'Khun Thee' is introduced in the story as a handsome, cold-hearted and wealthy man that lacks humanity.

He meets a freelance photographer 'Peach' by chance who tries to save Aran from his request of sleeping with him, then all the drama began there. Peach fights for Aran against this ridiculous request by Thee. Thee has the money and believes that everything can be bought and has a price! As things intensify, Peach is hired as a photographer at ARSENI which belongs to or owned by the Lee Family. By incident, Thee and Peach meet in the office and they were both shocked. Peach challenged Thee in most cases, and he would be annoyed ending up forgetting or declining the offer and now focuses all his attention to him.

Khun Thee now finds Peach interesting and asks Mok, his best friend now turned bodyguard to gather all information about him and that relates to his family. After browsing through his profile with Arans', he considers hiring him for a project at ARSENI, his love for him grew more and more.

Peach had no parents and grew up in an orphanage, he only had a younger sister as a sibling. He worked hard to take care of her, and puts her first in almost everything he does. He's not used to warmth and love, also physical touch. Finding love would be the last thing in his mind, and it took some time for Thee pursuing him until he agreed.

Love can find anyone at anytime, it goes beyond occupations and family background. The heart wants what it wants!

Is this series worth watching? Of course, YES.

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I really wanted to love this drama

STORY 7/10
I really didn't like Oumi because of his stone-cold personality that doesn't seem to melt even in the most heart-wrenching, soul-crushing, or happy moments. I know that this is like his whole archetype, but I really think the whole story would've benefitted if he would've been less cold.
Other than that, I really appreciated the overarching theme of grief, and the show did make me cry multiple times. And I think that it had a couple of great moments. Idk, Oumi just wasn't my cup of tea, but it might very well be yours ;).

ACTING 8/10
The acting was ok, I guess.

MUSIC 6/10
I think that the music could've been a lot sadder sometimes. Besides that, I would've appreciated a wider variety of tracks, as some were used very frequently and weren't really that great, tbh.

REWATCH VALUE 6/10
It's a sad show that would certainly make me cry again on a rewatch. Maybe I will like it better in a couple of years, when my perspective/headspace is different.

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I don't know how I managed to finish it

I'm gonna start off by saying that if you liked this, good for you. I didn't. Opinions differ. I also don't hate the actors at all, this is no hate to anyone involved in the show or anything.
This is my brutally honest opinion, so be warned.

That being said, I'm actually surprised I managed to finish it. I tried to give it a chance, but I hated every episode.

The plot is like a corny ripoff Twilight; but hey, I like Twilight, so that shouldn't be a problem right?
Wrong. It was just bad. The story was bad, holy mother of god the cgi was BAD, and I couldn't tell if the acting was bad or the characters were just impossibly annoying. The main character Tong pissed me off the entire time, and Mark was lowkey a weirdo. I really just couldn't get into it. The plot point where Mark only caught feelings for Tong because he tasted his blood also never sat right with me.
The chemistry was also nowhere to be found.

I did like the idea of the plot, it seemed pretty interesting if not just a tad cliché, but it was executed horribly.
I also liked the antagonist plot twist. I didn't really see that coming originally. But that might just be because I really wasn't into it.
Lastly, the ending was quite nice. That final sequence was pretty cool and well done compared to the rest of this show. The standards aren't high.

All that being said, if you want an actual good vampire bl, watch ReVamp or My Secret Vampire. Both aren't the best, but they're much better than this disaster.

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Picturesque but empty.

Rare situation where I lowkey dreaded the scenes that had only them…and there were a lot of those

I love a green flag but drama writers seem to have gotten their wires crossed and misunderstood “green flag” for “perfect”

I don’t need perfection - perfect is boring.

Everything was fine until we got down from the mountain, then it was like a glass of warm milk.

Their relationship was great when we needed him as a contrast to the sml

But after we settled in with them, they should’ve evolved a bit past that

Without an entitled asshole hovering around her, they’re just a bit dull

My hate for the SML fueled me through this drama.

If we atleast had a proper story to back up their “perfect” relationship, it could’ve been ok but we didn’t.

The plot was just a vehicle for the propaganda.

We also stayed in moments too long - like they didn’t know when to cut to the next scene

I liked it…until we came down the mountain, then I just watched it.

This was yet another drama that had no business being 36 episodes.

6.5/10…the final episode really hammered the nail for me cause I almost gave it a 7.

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mixed feelings

I don't really write reviews and I rarely watch kdramas but taxi driver is that one show I always looked forward to watching. this season had a lot of great moments and ones that left me feeling so underwhelmed.

I really like how this show balances the comedy and the unserious with the harsh reality of the world and the injustice people have to suffer. they really do a good job of focusing on the victims and their sufferings and show how you shouldn't blame them for what they got into and focus on the perpetrator instead.

that said, there were plenty of times in this season I felt they ruined the tension by adding comedic moments or not adding any stakes to the scene.

[spolier] Kim Do-gi almost gets killed 3 times(?) this season and the reactions felt so underwhelming. I was surprised by the lukewarm reaction of the team when he got out of the car in the Samheung case. I expected one of them to check on him worryingly... same goes for the bomb scene. It made me feel stupid for thinking there would be some serious stakes.

next is dogigoeun... now I don't really mind either way if they get romantic or not, but don't try to do both!? their fake romantic moments felt so disconnected to what kind of relationship they showed in this season so far. at least in s2 they all communicated before the newlyweds thing. this time it just happened bc... fans ask for it... I enjoyed them, don't get me wrong, but it was also SO disconnected that it pissed me off. just add very subtle hints that they like each other then. it's not that difficult. and the final episode where they show [spoiler] dogigoeun having a meetcute as office workers in another timeline was (very funny ngl) so?? idk what to get from it? are you trying to tell me they're romantically involved in this season and would've been in any other timeline??? doesn't make any sense bc I found them having zero romantic interest in each other this season... it's so annoying. just stick to one: romance or no romance.

thanks for the hard work though. the cast seem to really have the same family dynamic irl, so hope to see them again someday. despite having mixed feelings, I really love the rainbow taxi family and that's why I want them to not cheapen their story anyhow. if there's a season 4, I'll be there ☺️

tldr; good showcase of victims trauma and psa, but wished it had real stakes at serious scenes. the rainbow taxi team's reaction to them getting hurt (other than goeun in the final episode) was very underwhelming. and wish they'd commit to either making dogigoeun romantic or none at all. they tried to do both in this season and it felt so unnecessary and disconnected.

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Beautiful drama with a great couple

I would say the story is great, interesting (with some good plot twist) but the drama is way too dragging especially at the end. I struggle to finish it (I did skipped some scenes)

However I did really like both leads - actors are great and have good chemistry. I really do like the scenes when they're only both characters because the emotions delivery is top notch. And those scenes like in the pool aaaaah that was hot haha

I really like the decors, the OST, and the whole universe: one of the reason why I'm always tempted by those chinese historical dramas. It's so pleasing to watch really.

I would definitely rated 8/10, 8.5/10 if I did not get bored towards the end

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I came for the noona romance but I got more!

I came for the noona romance but I got more! I didn't expect to be getting this simple yet rich storyline. Although it didn't just focus on the romance of ML and FL, but they were still able to show how their love story developed and how their lives were actually connected. And the comedy part? Clearly didn't disappoint. This was such a gem. I can't help but gush over Cha Eun Woo's charm and their chemistry with Se Kyung. I loved how there's not just one story and how everything was put together. I really liked how there was not much drama/dark theme, so it was very heartwarming to watch. It was also a good thing that it didn't went to the age gap cliché plot and was never an issue since the beginning. But the personality of both ML and FL and the difference between their age can still clearly be seen. The acting of all the cast, even the supporting ones, are superb! By far the best noona romance (in Kdrama) for me. This show is clearly underrated, many are missing out such a gem!

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Taxi Driver 3

This is my first time following an ongoing drama that's already been running for three seasons. It feels like there's a curiosity that's hard to express. Theorizing together and guessing the ending is truly that exciting.

From the first case to the finale, the execution this time is truly satisfying. The Rainbow Taxi team executes the villains according to their portion, even without hesitation, burying them alive.

The second case that I think is very good is placed at the beginning, where the chemistry between Kim Doki and Matsuda Keita is seen. It builds the interest of many people and makes them crazy about their chemistry. Matsuda's dialogue about not having friends to send food photos to is relatable to many people, and that's what makes this villain hard to hate, but nevertheless they can't be justified. Also, the most interesting case this time is in episodes 12-14, where Kim Sung Kyu plays the villain. Although they seem almost on par with the Rainbow Taxi team, they're actually nothing. The epic scene: one taxi can blow up four cars at once, and there's a truck in there? I think that's absolutely insane.

And today is the end of Taxi Driver. I don't want to leave because each episode has a different case. This drama must continue until season 1999, 1738, 29??? Basically, Taxi Driver is one of the many dramas with a different case, each episode is a must-watch. You all must watch it ⭐️⭐️⭐️

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A very dark and intense BL

Interesting story. Get very intense and dark sometimes - which is not that recurrent in dramaland (or maybe in mainstream drama, because I feel like chinese bl drama for some reason get pretty dark nowadays). This drama isn't for everyone : I'll say this will be more for those who like dark, psychological drama

I like how some of the scenes were filmed and we can really get a grisp on our main leads mental state. And I like how they play with the lightning and angles. The first episode was pretty awkward not gonna lie, I cringed so much haha. (and I think main leads were dubbed ? which somehow takes me out to the story). But I'll say it starts to get better after te two first episodes.

Episode 8 was the best episode - very intense, sad, both leads show great acting. I was feeling so bad for Shu Lang during the whole series - I think in real like Fan Xiao will definitely be the type of person I'll do everything to distance myself for the sake of my well-being. I'll let it go since is dramaland, but there's definitely some scenes where I was like "Uuuugh this is not okay" or "Fan wake up and start being a normal humain being"

Redemption arc was great, but less "intense" in my opinion then what comes before. I did get emotional though in some scenes and we come to see the regret and remorse of Fan Xiao of his past behaviour (which is great we really needed it after this whole whirlwind of emotions)

Both leads has great chemistry
Kudos to Shu Lang, he's nice, sweet, caring - but also smart, witty sometimes. I feel like I totally get why te people around him likes him.
10/10 for how the character was written and portrayed by the actor. Also liked how he was methaphorically compared to buddha everytime

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After the Sun Goes Out, What’s Left to Live With?

OVERVIEW:

"Had I Not Seen the Sun" is a Taiwanese youth tragedy that disguises itself as a coming-of-age story before revealing itself as an autopsy of power, violence, and institutional betrayal. Centered on three teenagers who are Hsiao-tung, Jen-yao, and Yun-chen, the drama traces how sexual violence, class privilege, corruption, and adult cowardice grind innocence into silence and rage. Through fractured timelines, haunting symbolism, and a slow unpeeling of truth, the series examines how a society that protects perpetrators manufactures monsters. What begins as a story about friendship and first love becomes an indictment of schools, police, families, and money, and a meditation on what survives after the sun goes out.


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COMMENTARY:

I finished Had I Not Seen the Sun feeling hollowed out, furious, and uncomfortably awake. Not “sad in a pretty way.” Not “devastated but grateful.” Awake like I’d been forced to stare at something society works very hard to keep out of sight. This drama didn’t just tell a story; it conducted an autopsy on power, masculinity, class, and how thoroughly the system can grind human beings into collateral damage. From the first episode, where Jen-yao is already framed as a killer, the show locks you into inevitability. There is no suspense about whether things will go wrong. The only question is how many people will help push them there.

What I loved most, and I mean loved in the way you love something that hurts you, is how this show weaponizes intimacy. The scenes that gutted me weren’t the loud ones. They were the moments where people almost say the right thing and don’t. Where help is one sentence away and never arrives.

What makes this drama work is that it refuses to romanticize suffering while still acknowledging intimacy. It understands that tenderness and violence are not opposites; they often coexist, sometimes in the same breath. The writing is brutally precise. Every humiliation compounds. Every compromise costs something. No moment exists just to advance plot; every scene either deepens character psychology or tightens the moral noose.

I keep thinking about the convenience store scenes. They show up again and again, almost invisibly threading the story together. Late-night noodles, fluorescent lighting, two kids standing between childhood and adulthood with nothing but instant food and unprocessed trauma. That’s where Jen-yao and Hsiao-tung feel most real to me. Not on rooftops, not in grand declarations, but standing awkwardly with plastic spoons, trying to pretend the world isn’t already chewing them up. The show understands that tenderness often lives in places no one remembers to romanticize.

The relationships are where the writing truly shines. Jen-yao and Hsiao-tung are not built on grand declarations. They are built on shared silence, small gestures, and the mutual recognition of pain. Their bond feels intimate because it is unguarded. They don’t fix each other. They witness each other. That distinction is crucial. Yun-chen and Hsiao-tung’s relationship, meanwhile, carries the ache of unreciprocated love without turning toxic. It’s messy, raw, and deeply human.

Hsiao-tung taking care of Jen-yao while he’s sick, hiding him in the abandoned house, is another arc that destroyed me quietly. There’s no big speech about love or sacrifice. She just does it. She feeds him, buys him things, lies to adults without hesitation. It’s the clearest expression of who she is: someone who shows up. And that’s exactly why what happens later feels so unforgivable. The world punishes her not for being reckless, but for being kind.

Hsiao-tung is the emotional axis of the entire series. She is written as a girl with moral clarity who believes in showing up, even when it costs her everything. Her kindness is not naïve. It is active, deliberate, and repeatedly punished. What the show does with her character is devastating because it demonstrates how goodness is not enough when institutions are hostile. She doesn’t fail. The world fails her. Over and over.

Jen-yao is not written as a misunderstood angel or a cool antihero. He is written as someone shaped by abandonment, poverty, and structural cruelty. The show never excuses his murders, but it absolutely indicts the world that produced him. His father is weak, selfish, and transactional. His mother is loving but broken, trapped in survival mode, incapable of offering protection when it matters. The school treats him as disposable long before he commits any crime. The police see him as convenient. Power recognizes him only as a tool or a scapegoat. By the time he becomes violent, the question is no longer “why did he do this?” but “who didn’t stop this?”

Jen-yao’s relationship with his parents might be one of the bleakest portrayals of familial abandonment I’ve seen. His mother is loving and unreliable, apologetic and cowardly. His father is weak in the most dangerous way. When Jen-yao realizes his father sold him out, there’s no dramatic confrontation that gives him closure. Just a phone call. Just confirmation that he is disposable. That betrayal hits harder than any beating, because it removes the last illusion he had about safety.

I loved how the show allowed silence to carry weight. Scenes where nothing is said often hit harder than any monologue. The hug between Jen-yao and Hsiao-tung after his betrayal by his father is one of the most emotionally precise moments I’ve seen. No dialogue, no score manipulation, just two broken teenagers clinging to the last thing that feels real.

I was also deeply affected by how Yun-chen is written in relation to both of them. Her hostility toward Jen-yao is not irrational jealousy but survival math. Every time she tells him to stay away from Hsiao-tung, you can feel how much she hates herself for needing to say it. Yun-chen understands systems before the others do. She knows how power moves, how reputation crushes people, how girls disappear quietly. Her love is expressed through warnings, not affection, and that makes her arc heartbreaking in a slow, corrosive way. The moment she tells Jen-yao she’ll come for him if anything happens to Hsiao-tung is electric, not because it’s threatening, but because it’s grief spoken in advance.

Yun-chen functions as both mirror and warning. Her abusive grandmother, her suffocating control, and her desperate escape show a parallel outcome of trauma that doesn’t explode outward but calcifies inward. Her love for Hsiao-tung is real, intense, and complicated, but it is also rooted in survival. She recognizes danger earlier than the others because she has lived under it. Her decision to sever ties, to run, to draw brutal boundaries, makes sense. The show does not punish her for choosing herself, and that restraint matters.

I loved Yun-chen’s courtroom-like defense of Jen-yao at school. It wasn’t framed as heroism; it was framed as necessity. She knew how systems worked, and she used their own rules against them. That moment crystallized her intelligence and rage in one stroke.

One of the most brutal emotional punches is how the show handles parents. Not villains, not heroes, just people who fail in believable ways. Hsiao-tung’s parents trying to do “the right thing” and being systematically dismantled by money and influence is agonizing to watch. The scene where other parents gang up on them at the school, calling Hsiao-tung loose, is pure social violence. It’s not the rapists speaking, it’s society echoing them. I hated that scene. I also admired it, because it refuses to pretend that cruelty is rare.

The antagonists are chilling because they are banal. Ouyang-ti is not a mastermind; he is a boy weaponized by wealth and entitlement. His cruelty is casual, inherited, and protected. His parents are the real monsters, not because they are cartoonishly evil, but because they are realistic. They know exactly what their son did. They simply decide it doesn’t matter. Their use of money, influence, police connections, and schools to rewrite reality is the show’s sharpest critique. This is not about individual bad apples. This is about orchards.

The school hearing is a masterclass in writing institutional cruelty. Every line of dialogue feels researched, rehearsed, and real. The boys’ coordinated lies, the way parents weaponize moral language, the school’s eagerness to reframe rape as “misunderstanding”... it’s nauseating because it’s accurate. The moment the school declares it consensual lands like a verdict not just against Hsiao-tung, but against reality itself.

Thematically, the drama is ruthless. It interrogates how rape culture is upheld not just by perpetrators but by silence, disbelief, and procedural gaslighting. The school hearing scene alone should be studied. The way language is manipulated to turn violence into consent, the way parents are mobilized to shame the victim, the way “reputation” outweighs truth, all of it feels horrifyingly accurate. The show also explores masculinity under pressure, how boys are taught that worth is transactional and power is dominance. Jen-yao’s descent is not a transformation; it’s a revelation of what was cultivated all along.

The karaoke setup and its aftermath is one of the most sickeningly well-constructed arcs in the series. What makes it unbearable is not surprise (we know something bad is coming) but inevitability. Every choice Hsiao-tung makes is logical. She agrees to go to protect Jen-yao. She plays along to buy time. She steals the phone to delete evidence. She is brave, strategic, and self-sacrificing. And it still doesn’t matter. That’s the point. The show doesn’t punish her for being naïve; it punishes her for daring to resist within a rigged system. Watching her be outnumbered, filmed, mocked, and discarded while Jen-yao is physically barred from reaching her is one of the most harrowing parallel edits I’ve seen. His helplessness is not symbolic. It is absolute.

The hospital examination scene is one of the hardest sequences to watch, and it is handled with brutal precision. The camera does not linger voyeuristically, but it does not cut away to spare you either. You are meant to feel the indignity, the repetition of violation under the guise of procedure. It is not cinematic. It is clinical. And that’s the point.

Jen-yao dragging himself upstairs afterward, barely conscious, just to find Hsiao-tung, is another moment that refused to leave me. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t collapse into him. She doesn’t explain. She walks past him. That choice is devastating because it’s honest. Trauma doesn’t always look like breakdown. Sometimes it looks like withdrawal so complete it erases the other person from the room.

I also appreciated how the show handles time skips and aftermath. It doesn’t rush to revenge. It lets rot set in. The years in juvenile prison, the extended sentence, the delayed release; this isn’t a revenge fantasy. It’s attrition. By the time Jen-yao starts killing, it feels less like rage and more like a final language he’s learned fluently because nothing else ever worked.

I also appreciated that the show never lets Jen-yao’s violence feel triumphant. Even when he stabs Ouyang-ti, it is chaotic, ineffective, and immediately punished. Revenge is shown not as catharsis but as further entrapment. The seven-year imprisonment is not just punitive; it’s erasure.

The rooftop scenes deserve their own grief category. That rooftop is not romantic space; it’s a confessional, a battleground, a promise site, a grave. When Hsiao-tung and Jen-yao talk there, it always feels temporary, like borrowed time. And when Jen-yao returns years later and realizes she kept the promise alone, that revelation lands without manipulation. No swelling score, no montage. Just decorations and absence. I actually had to pause there. That’s the kind of scene that trusts silence more than dialogue, and it devastates precisely because it refuses to comfort you.

Jen-yao waiting on the rooftop years later and realizing Hsiao-tung kept the promise wrecked me. No monologue. No flashback. Just decorations and absence. That’s grief done right.

I loved the motorcycle scene, not because it was romantic, but because it captured escapism perfectly. Arms out, eyes closed, pretending momentum equals freedom. It was honest about how young people try to outrun pain without having anywhere to go.

The Taipei interlude was beautifully cruel. The temporary joy, the food, the photos, the sea, all felt like borrowed time. The show let those moments breathe just long enough to make their loss unbearable.

The dance scenes deserve special mention. Hsiao-tung dancing barefoot in the theater for Jen-yao is not romantic fluff; it’s a farewell, whether either of them knows it or not. Her injured ankle is not symbolic subtlety; it’s physical truth. Art costs the body. Love does too.

Even small technical choices stuck with me. The repeated use of bells, phones cutting out, static on calls, it reinforces the theme of failed communication. People try to speak. Something always interrupts. The living can’t reach the dead. The truth can’t reach authority. Help can’t reach those who need it in time.

Technically, the direction is restrained and confident. The camera does not linger voyeuristically on violence. The assault scene is devastating precisely because it centers sound, obstruction, and aftermath rather than spectacle. Editing choices during institutional scenes are cold and methodical, mirroring the machinery of power. The score is understated, allowing discomfort to sit unadorned.

Symbolism is used sparingly but effectively. The moth and butterfly metaphor is one of the most painful threads. Jen-yao believes he is a moth, doomed to circle false light, incapable of existing in the sun. Hsiao-tung refuses this logic. She believes coexistence is possible. The tragedy is not that she is wrong about humanity, but that humanity proves her wrong anyway. The butterfly tattoo, the rooftop promise, the recurring imagery of light and exposure all reinforce the same idea: visibility is both salvation and danger.

The butterfly. That last image of a butterfly leading Jen-yao to a woman who might be Hsiao-tung, might not be, might be something else entirely, that’s one of the cruelest and most beautiful choices the show makes. It doesn’t reward him with reunion. It gives him ambiguity. After everything, certainty would be a lie.

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FINAL THOUGHTS:

"Had I Not Seen the Sun" is one of the most emotionally intense, psychologically nuanced, and socially scathing series I have ever encountered. It is not for the faint of heart as it will make you uncomfortable, angry, and heartbroken. It blends trauma, morality, social commentary, and poetic symbolism with cinematic skill, and its characters are multidimensional, alive, and compelling.

If there is a takeaway, it is this: monsters are not born. They are manufactured, protected, and unleashed. And the cost is always paid by the ones who shone the brightest.

The characters are unforgettable, and their arcs are devastatingly human. The series confronts societal corruption, the failure of institutions, and the long shadow of trauma without flinching. It’s a painful, mesmerizing, morally complex masterpiece.

It leaves you emotionally drained but intellectually stimulated, questioning everything you know about morality, justice, and the consequences of inaction. Every plot point, every detail, every moment of character development is deliberate and loaded with significance. Watching it is an ordeal, but one worth enduring.

Tysm for reading!💖

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The unexpectedly great drama

Hats off to the scriptwriter and director for this amazing drama! The lead female actor did incredibly well pulling off two roles with great distinctions. Such a beautiful drama series.

This drama is going to make you reflect at your life, your limiting thoughts and emotional blocks in such an unexpected yet relatable way.

Nothing felt forced or overdone which makes the scenes and the feelings projected feel like they are conveying the audiences own life experiences. Many scenes were heart-touching and well-performed.

I loved it, more dramas like this!

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this will only hit once

i dont believe i could ever rewatch this because the crash outs i was going throught were intense.

this drama will leave you angry, sad, mad, confused and aroused.
i intially picked up this up because i saw a bts clip of kim se jeong cuddling with kang tae oh while he was sleeping, and boy, this drama didnt disappoint.
a main part of the story is the freaky fridayness of the drama and the actors didnt fall short of a mark, esp kim se jeong. i was actually immersed into the story, the setting, the film.

if you havent watched this already, do yourself a favour
treat yourself right
learn to love yourself

and watch Moon River

i just wanted to say that the left ministers beard is boneless af

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