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
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?

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