My Week in Dramas 13 February 2026
At the prompting of my monthly conversational podcast partner absoluteM, I started watching Unveiled: Jadewind 唐宫奇案 which sees the much anticipated reunion of Bai Lu and Wang Xingyue — something that fans have been pleading for since Kunning Palace. Despite the Tang dynasty trappings it’s very much a police procedural. I’m happy for the reunion but less enthusiastic about Bai Lu’s character Li Peiyi, the girl boss investigator who is the lead in all the cases here which happen to be about women’s issues. To be fair, she’s good at her job even if she has the tendency to ruffle all kinds of feathers. But she’s the daughter of a deceased prince, doted on by the emperor so she gets away with more than most in that context. Her parents died tragically when dad slaughtered the entire household is a state of frenzied madness. She happened not to be around when it happened and is conveniently forgetful about what occurred that night.
Wang Xingyue plays Xiao Huaijing, a character in the vein of Zang Hai, although less obsequious in manner. He is the deputy head of the Astronomy Bureau and is something of a deductive genius. He is tasked by the emperor to help her and so he does. Reluctantly. At first. Because he knows a few things that she would like to know regarding the untimely demise of her parents. And he’d rather not say. Yes, they have a childhood connection. He saved her as a child… a well-used trope that makes its appearance more often than not in micro dramas. Huaijing is not on good terms with his dad, the Grand Tutor who really doesn’t want him to be entangled in the politics of the day. But too late. Duty calls.
Is love in the air? There seem to be wisps of it. Peiyi is in genuine awe of Huaijing once the show gets on the road. And why wouldn’t she be? He’s attractive, charismatic and blessed with a eidetic memory. They make a good team once all the suspicion and awkwardness dissipates. And while Peiyi doesn’t have much regard for too many people she’s quick to show her unadulterated admiration of the astronomer’s machine-efficient intellect although he’s not much of a fighter.
10 episodes in I don’t mind it so far. The cases are decently constructed even if at times it does come across as activism rather than historical re-telling. Women’s issues are front and centre here which is consistent with the girl boss narrative. The tragically dead princess case at the start is meant to elicit sympathy elicits a muted “meh” from moi. It’s the same problem I have with the micro drama portrayal of princesses as stand-ins for modern-day women. The palace maids, on the other hand, are actually vulnerable to all kinds of evil forces especially once they leave the palace in search of their place in the wider world with no one to look out for them. Not even their families can necessarily be relied upon to share the load. In fact they can be downright predatory.
Truth to be told, the main attraction here for this reviewer is Wang Xingyue and the character he’s playing. Bai Lu is Bai Lu regardless of what she’s in. Like Tan Songyun, she can have her choice of the cream of the crop. Wang Xingyue is born to play period pieces in a way Bai Lu isn’t — which is why the boss girl persona makes her presence more palatable. He, on the other hand, has a natural elegance that not many actors can make claim to. When he graces the screen, the experience is immersive and he acts as a nice counterpoint to her more boorish tendencies. He feels like he belongs in that world while she’s a placeholder for the target audience member who wants to be part of the action.
Jung Kyung-ho has been a must-watch since Missing 9. Even if Missing 9 was not exactly great drama, it at least tried to do something different and it didn’t take itself seriously. On first glance it harkens back to Lost and Survivor but only superficially and when on the deserted island. It was my first experience of the magic that is Jung Kyung-ho. Even though the character he played was obnoxious in the extreme, it dawned on me fairly quickly that I was watching a great actor at work. Despite the petty entitled facade, he was able to imbue the character with a palpable sense of duty.
I mention all this because, years later, he plays a similar type of character in Pro Bono. Former judge Kang Da-wit is not the paragon of virtue that his position demands. But all the years of brown-nosing, wheeling and dealing with the powers-that-are seems to have been perfect preparation for his reluctant transformation into a pro bono lawyer. That is the biggest gag of the entire show. The self-proclaimed People’s Judge turns out to be the world’s most reluctant People’s Lawyer. Partly because he never forgets his roots. Partly because he’s an excellent judge of character.
On paper Pro Bono shouldn’t work. There’s misplaced slapstick and some of the courtroom scenes are overly dramatic. The issues are serious and the grandstanding in some cases feel manipulative. However, it is a good natured, well-meaning look at the forgotten people of South Korea. The legal system doesn’t work equally for everyone even if everyone is supposedly equal before the law. The law isn’t meant to make people good. No legal code can. But the judicial system should be able to provide victims with an explanation and punish the perpetrators proportionately. At least that’s the point of the system. Nevertheless, money and connections can see the right/wrong people evade the justice they richly deserve. This in turn begs the question — so why do they even bother with the process… of seeming to do right by the victims when the outcomes are predetermined by power brokers?
For those who call the shots, it’s political theatre. It’s about being seen to do the right thing and convincing the public that the system works. Only the “hallowed” individuals can get away with murder. In reality they position themselves as being above the law but the plebs need to be controlled lest they dissent riotously. A worst case scenario Koreans are no strangers to.
So it does make sense that pro bono team repeatedly exploits the courtroom as a platform for revisiting all kinds of grievances that are not allowed in the overton window of public discourse. According to the thesis of the show, there are people who escape public scrutiny but enjoy pulling the strings from behind the curtain because they think they know best how the world works. They control the narrative and convince themselves that it is their right to meddle even if it leads to miscarriages of justice.
The courtroom becomes the last bastion of public opinion. A good lawyer remembers “all the world’s a stage” and takes advantage of the legal code for the benefit of their client. Two can play the same game. If the well-connected can seem like they care about the judicial process, so can anyone else.
It’s wink here nod there. Kang Da-wit has been the consummate actor for most of his legal career. He’s been playing a part since his entry into the judiciary. The People’s Judge is a role he’s played with flair while he acts the obsequious fool. In truth he’s nobody’s fool but a student of the human condition.
To the show’s credit, it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Yes, it serious about the victims of crime but there’s a self-awareness that it’s a drama in a larger drama about South Korean politics. The motley crew of idealists is a hint of that. They mean well but well-meaning don’t win cases. Legal savvy and wits do.
If you enjoyed this post and got something out of it, please like and share the post on your favourite platforms. Thanks for your continued support.