Lighter & Princess: A Not-So Review

Having recently completed a 30-episode drama series, I thought it would be some time before I could immerse myself in yet another Chinese drama. Spanning 36 episodes, more than two regular K-drama series combined, Lighter & Princess literally had me skeptical. There was no way for me to finish a series that feels like a lifetime to watch UNLESS it would be something truly spectacular, even greater than my then current C-drama favorite, Amidst a Snowstorm of Love. 

First Impression

Debating whether to invest 65 pesos for a month’s worthy subscription on Youku, I clung to the uncertainty. 

Would this series captivate me as much as AASOL, or would it fall short of my expectations? 

Initially, I jumped into this drama with only a vague notion of its premise. The title itself led me to believe it was a fantasy romance drama. The opening credits reinforced this impression, playfully hinting at magic and fairytales. From the title, I envisioned “Lighter” was a prince of lightning, while “Princess” was a damsel in distress. However, it wasn’t until I began watching that the true meaning behind the title dawned on me. “Lighter” was actually the golden zippo-style lighter that Li Xun habitually played with throughout the episodes, which later revealed its sentimental value—a reminiscent connection to his late father. Meanwhile, “Princess,” whom Zhu Yun thought was a teasy nickname given by Li Xun, turned out to be his endearment for her. I appreciated that it took time for me to piece it together, and it was only when Li Xun addressed Zhu Yun as princess for the first time that everything clicked.

Driven by curiosity and the desire to learn from one another, a motley crew of freshmen got together in a campus study group. With only a few scenes set in their dormitory and classroom, their campus life mostly revolved within the confines of their base, which took up more than half of the series. This left me wondering whether the show realistically captured the life of a university student in China. In their sanctum, they toiled away—heads bent over keyboards, fingers tapping out codes as their screen filled their eyes' reflection. Despite my own programming ignorance, I still found myself drawn to the snippets of technical jargon they casually tossed around. It was as though I stood on the periphery, an outsider eavesdropping on their world.

When the flint wheel meets the flint, the sparks fly 

Li Xun, in particular, stood out—a brilliant mind straddling the line between genius leadership and imperious aristocracy. In his case, there was no doubt: he fell to the latter category, ruling with an unapologetic will that either garnered devoted followers, outright critics, or loyal friends. Despite his conflicting personality, others still regarded him with admiration. Perhaps topping the national college entrance exams could work wonders, or maybe it was his good looks? 

He was nonchalant, arrogant, and sharp-tongued. Were it not for his good looks, I bet everyone would not be impressed by his talent. Yet, if we were to shift our attention to the actor who played this character, we couldn't deny how Arthur Chen convincingly breathed life into Li Xun. His lips, taut and unyielding, framed furrowed brows that spoke of intensity. His very stance exuded casual confidence and an unbothered temperament. It was a captivating blend—a magnet for any girl, willing to embrace the weighty responsibility of believing, “I can change him.” 

And then there was Zhu Yun—a delightful blend of naivety, stubborn charm, and a fire that mirrored of Li Xun’s. It seemed almost ironic that Li Xun affectionately and playfully dubbed her “Princess.” Yet, despite her inherent privileges, I didn't feel any blunt display of lavishness from her, particularly in the way she interacted with him. It wasn't also used lamely to enforce tension between them; instead, it lingered as a subtle undercurrent, adding depth to their dynamic. When it comes to her acting, I occasionally sensed that Jing Yi struggled during dramatic scenes. She effortlessly showcased her dorky side alongside Arthur Chen, but when it came to sharing intense moments with him, I found it hard to connect emotionally. Despite this, I can hardly envision any other Chinese actress portraying Zhu Yun as effectively as she did.

From a Spark to a Flame

The enemies-to-lovers trope is a familiar one, often revisited across a myriad of dramas. It's a narrative route that has been so frequently explored that audiences grow accustomed, perhaps even weary, of its predictable beats. However, "Lighter & Princess" manages to reinvent the clichés with its unique charms. While it embraces a storyline that echoes many before it—replete with recycled plot points and foreseeable developments—it introduces a fresh and compelling perspective. 

The chemistry between the main characters is palpable, sparking flames that seem to leap off the screen. Their exchanges, from playful banter to stolen glances and intense gazes, send a thrill through the viewers, giving butterflies in our stomach. Their evolving bond transcends mere romance; it's a metamorphosis. From bantering enemies, they slowly morphs into each other's ally, and eventually, blossoms into something infinitely more profound and beautiful.

Like the familiar revenge-themed dramas, we had the character re-emerging with a singular focus: revenge. After three years of imprisonment, Li Xun embraced the fleeting comfort of a fresh start, which was, in essence, a vengeful resurgence. Zhu Yun, who might seem pathetic, embodies, in my view, the enduring power of loyalty. Even the world seem always ready to turn its back on him, her loyalty to him never once wavered. She proved to him that a princess like her is destined for heaven, as betrayer condemns to hell. Li Xun was indeed lucky to have Zhu Yun; she was more than her lover—she was an important ally and his sole confidante. Without her, I doubt Li Xun could have successfully regained L&P. She not only support him but also steered him away from being consumed by his own fury and vengeance. Indeed, Li Xun had Zhu Yun all along to pull him up...but in that defining moment in Episode 17, this was not so, as Li Xun had made a choice not to be pulled up by Zhu Yun. 

After learning the truth that Fang Zhi Jing was the culprit for the tragic car accident that claimed his sister's life, Li Xun faced a harrowing decision. Driven by a thirst for revenge, he risked it all, including his stakes in L&P and his future with Zhu Yun. This pivotal moment signaled the close of an era where the plot took an intense turn. The aftermath was grim: Li Xun found himself behind bars for three years, Fang Zhi Jing was left partially blinded, Gao Jian Hong took over L&P, and Zhu Yun, in pursuit of a fresh start, departed the country, leaving her shared history and the life she might have had with Li Xun.

The events surrounding Li Xun and Zhu Yun left a profound impact on me. It's unfortunate that the narrative did not delve into his time in the penitentiary shadows. I had hoped for a glimpse into his prison life, to witness the complexity of his emotions—his intense wrath, yearning, fear, and possible remorse. Instead, we were presented with a portrayal of him steadfast in his anger and quest for vengeance. In contrast, Zhu Yun's transformation was stark; she became a shadow of her former self. Her usual bubbly persona was replaced by a hollow emptiness after Li Xun's imprisonment. She completely lost herself, appearing lifeless. Given that Li Xun is human, it was disheartening to see him depicted as unyieldingly strong beyond that critical juncture. Throughout the series, there were only a few scarce instances that revealed his vulnerability, let alone capturing his lowest point. It was as if he deflected emotional blows with practiced ease. His facade remained adamant, even when the world crumbled around him.

Keep The Fire Burning!

By around episode 25, the narrative transitioned from the past to the present, picking up where the initial snippet left off in Episode 1. The anticipation was palpable as their interactions intensified—each glance, every word exchanged—leaving me both impatient and exhilarated. The push and pull between them was masterfully executed, keeping me on the edge of my seat, yearning for the next encounter.

And oh, the tropes again! First, the classic enemies-to-lovers trope which ignited their sparks but then lost by the end of the first chapter. Suddenly, they were strangers again. Yet fate, ever mischievous, intervened once more, pulling them back to being bantering enemies, and finally, a triumphant return to enemies to lovers. Come on, who wouldn't want that?

We saw a parallel narrative in the second chapter of the show. Their bond flourished within the familiar confines of their base, but this time, it orchestrated a reunion in the unassuming corner of a company building called My Heart Flying Network. The intensity surged as they grappled with their desire to stay apart, yet their yearning threatened to break through. Together, with their newfound squad, they replicated the same dedication they once poured into their previous venture, L&P. Despite the initial hurdles and setbacks, they stood their ground, managing to rattle Gao Jian Hong. 

Expectedly, Gao Jian Hong slowly became Li Xun's biggest archenemy. However, it didn't happen in a snap; it resulted from a series of events that pushed him to betray Li Xun. Ranked sixth in the national college exam, Gao Jian Hong was a self-assured student who was open to learn different perspectives from others. From the outset, he expressed his desire to learn from Li Xun. Unfortunately, Li Xun was uncooperative and occasionally made him feel inferior instead of working together with him. Disappointingly, every time he wanted to prove himself to Li Xun, he completely dismissed his effort, which led him lost confidence in himself. That is why, I understand that partially it was Li Xun’s fault for igniting Gao Jian Hong’s envy, which wasn’t present initially. 

With Li Xun’s favor, he assumed control of L&P, seizing this opportunity to avenge himself against him. Initially, L&P aimed to reduce the cancer death rate by creating a system with improved access to medical services. However, it later rebranded as a gaming development company under the leadership of Gao Jian Hong. During his last visit to Li Xun, fueled by anger, he revealed that he was the one who told his sister's whereabouts to Fang Zhi Jing, ultimately leading to her demise. This revelation intensified Li Xun’s desire to confront him beyond the prison walls. Although we didn’t catch glimpses of Li Xun’s life behind bars, we witnessed how L&P had evolved into a prominent game development company. This transformation showcased Gao Jian Hong’s potential, yet I couldn’t help but wonder why the show portrayed him as weak when pitted against Li Xun.

While I recognized that he genuinely feared Li Xun, I believe his programming skills were not adequately showcased. The latter, who had been away from programming for three years, managed to completely disrupt his composure with a single game release. I wish they had portrayed Gao Jian Hong as a stronger adversary for Li Xun, making his revenge more challenging. Unfortunately, instead of intense confrontations between the two, the show opted for an anticlimactic approach. In Episode 36, we learned that he was suffering from a malignant brain tumor. To me, the show did him dirty. Instead of allowing him to face Li Xun head-on, he was diagnosed with a disease that completely defeated the purpose of his revenge. Imagine waiting three long years to get even with Gao Jian Hong, only to be halted midway by the unexpected revelation of a debilitating illness. It felt like the show had sabotaged Gao Jian Hong, when they should have allowed Li Xun to do the job.

Despite these shortcomings, I appreciated that among them, Fang Zhi Jing remained true to his disagreeable nature. He recognized that Li Xun's intentions were to undermine their egos, leading them to make poor decisions that would ultimately contribute to their downfall. It's regrettable that there weren't more clashes between him, Gao Jian Hong, and Li Xun. 

Xu Lina emerged as a character who, I initially believed, a mere pursuer of Li Xun. Despite her marriage to Gao Jian Hong, it was commendable that the narrative did not force her into a romantic attachment with him, nor did it excuse his wrongdoings. She remained steadfast in her willingness to sacrifice everything for Li Xun, a price Gao Jian Hong anticipated upon his return. Xu Lina’s decision to stay with Gao Jian Hong after discovering his illness was something I had expected, but also admired. Her choice to stay with Gao Jian Hong was surely not driven by love but by gratitude and appreciation. After all, Gao Jian Hong had never stopped loving her.

The last few episodes of Lighter & Princess lived up to my expectations. Li Xun and Zhu Yun, having reclaimed L&P, faced their greatest yet familiar hurdle: winning over Zhu Yun’s parents. It’s clear that her parents favored Tian Xiu Zhu, and realistically, he was the preferable match over Li Xun. Yet, Zhu Yun’s stance had always been clear—the ‘ideal’ choice isn’t necessarily the right one, particularly if it feels undeserved. I appreciated the show avoided turning Tian Xiu Zhu into an unwarranted villain, which would have been overkill given the existing conflicts with Gao Jian Hong and Fang Zhi Jing. And, of course, how could I miss out Zhu Yun's parents?

Li Xun was undeniably a flawed character. Yet, it baffled me why he was never given the chance to redeem himself, particularly by Zhu Yun's mother. From her standpoint as a teacher, I understood where she was coming from as cheating was unequivocally wrong. Yet, it remained unclear why she harbored resentment towards him after all this time. He was merely a child who made a mistake, acknowledged his wrongdoing, and sought her forgiveness. Rather than extending forgiveness, she remained resolute, leaving him with the impression that there was no way for him to change for the better. 

They were absolutely unreasonable. It was exhausting for me to watch them sob and completely distort Zhu Yun’s words, making her feel guilty for loving Li Xun. I perceived them as controlling (actually, they really were), even taking over significant decisions in Zhu Yun’s life. In the final episode, we saw Li Xun and Zhu Yun took another chance to persuade her parents. As expected, and to my appreciation, her mother remained firm. Fortunately, this time, Li Xun had learned his lesson and had matured enough to reassure Zhu Yun that it was okay, as they still had a lifetime to convince her parents.

Things turned out quite satisfying by the end of the series. After discovering that a scene where Li Xun proposed to Zhu Yun was deleted, I wasn’t really disappointed. In fact, I thought it was a good decision. It made more sense to me that they opted for a civil wedding instead. This choice supported the scene where Zhu Yun impulsively asked Li Xun to have a baby, which aligned with their decision to start a family.

Overall, it was an enjoyable experience. For someone seeking an idol drama that isn’t too serious, ‘Lighter and Princess’ was an excellent option. As I mentioned, I had recently watched ‘Amidst A Snowstorm of Love,’ which was a fantastic show, so I was pleased that the Lighter & Princess' was just as impressive.