My Week in Dramas 2 March 2025

I apologize for not posting anything for two weeks. I’ve been ridiculously busy with work and I’m terribly exhausted at the end of the day. It’s not getting better as I’m currently the sole income earner in our household. But I am committed to the blog.

A popular short C drama trope has emerged in recent times in different iterations with other equally popular tropes. Although it does centre around the female lead, it is what I’m calling “the tale of two men”. It is largely about a shift in perspective within the romance genre and its tropes. For some time now the idea of a first and second male lead has been bound up with the “guy who gets the girl” or the female lead’s final choice in some kind of love triangle set up. It’s seen to help audiences identify who they should root for. These terms have wide usage among Asian drama viewers but at the end of the day they’re not in my opinion, especially prescriptive or descriptive of the character. Identifying the “first” male lead has occasionally been contentious because for some it’s tied to certain personality traits.

At the risk of sounding contradictory, however, the male lead has traditionally been the character with the most substantial growth arc. He’s usually rough around the edges, has a shadow and does almost nothing to ingratiate himself with the people around him. More often than not, he’s a man of status and achievement so he doesn’t have to make himself likeable to anyone. In many instances he goes out of his way to be disliked in order to keep people at bay. Only when he meets the female lead, the icy demeanour undergoes a fully-fledged transformation. He is sometimes given the label of tsundere. While he doesn’t necessarily start at zero in terms of character development, he has plenty of obstacles to overcome and there’s a lot of chipping to do. This belief underpinned the controversy surrounding A Poem a Day about not only who the “first” male lead is but who should have ended up with the female lead.

There are changes afoot. Perhaps writers and audiences are fatigued with that type of first male lead which has seen the rise of the “puppy” or subservient male lead or the male lead who is absurdly perfect in every way — as in the case of Love Me, Love My Voice.

Stereotypes or archetypes aside, the story of two men that attempts to navigates both those spaces while remaining firmly within the love triangle narrative. As the appellation indicates, there is a contrast playing out and of course it’s didactic. Two men who are relatively wealthy (of course) have different attitudes towards the female protagonist. Both are drawn to her, often since their school days but the one who has been “in a relationship” with her the longest is seldom the one who ends up with her. Both men usually have a history with her. The one that she falls for first turns out not to be the best pick for a whole host of reasons. The fact she pursues him first doesn’t help because he is content to let her do all the heavy lifting while maintaining an indifferent posture. In some cases familiarity breeds contempt, in others she’s (in his eyes) a substitute for his 白月光 “moonlight” aka the one that got away. They might be in a dating relationship. They might even be married already and he’s suffering from itchy feet or roving eyes. The far more reliable of the two men in question has been pining for the longest time. When the female lead breaks free from her relationship, he makes his move — either through a series of highly elaborate schemes that usually begins with a flash marriage or a drunken one-night stand. Or both.

The second man here is the “better” man because he throws all of his time and resources in pursuit of the female lead. He proves he wants her by sheer effort. Because of circumstances and initial hesitation, a lot of precious time is wasted from his perspective. Or not. On the other hand, suffering on his part and on hers is part of the package to make them wiser and more cautious about the order of things. What comes easily is seldom valued. Why would she devote her time and energy to a man who doesn’t pull his weight or worst still treats her with utter contempt? It makes no sense that she would conduct a one-sided relationship that leaves her feeling humiliated.

Often No. 2 is the right man because he does everything necessary even when his pursuit of the female lead is strategic and calculated to the tiniest details. He is also supremely confident in the rightness of his cause because he’s taken the time to dig out every detail of her life. More than that his love has been tested by the crucible of time. His rival is quickly rendered ineffective and irrelevant when he emerges from behind the scenes.

In Flourished Peony, the abovementioned trope is utilized to tell the story of He Weifang nicknamed Mudan (Yang Zi)’s struggle to survive in the business world. She marries an idealist (Miles Wei) who ignores her for three years in exchange for a cure-all pill to cure her mother. Her idealist husband can’t marry the princess as her emperor father disapproves so he throws an almighty tantrum on the wedding night. Some years later the husband named Liu Chang then realises too late that Mudan is exactly the kind of wife that suits him. By that time she’s had enough of the lies, the neglect and the ill-treatment from her in-laws. She meets the shrewd Jiang Changyang (Li Xian) who is practically the emperor’s right-hand man and he clears the way for her to escape her in-laws. The self-made “Flower Envoy” is attracted to her spunk and quite likely sees something of himself in her.

For Liu Chang, his relationship with the princess comes back to haunt him. Now that she’s widowed, she’s keen to reconcile. Mudan is happy to let them have their way and put some distance distance between them. It’s clear after 10 episodes that Liu Chang is square peg in a round hole in particularly amongst the leisured wealthy elite. He styles himself as a righteous scholar but is surrounded by people who don’t share his ideals. He’s in a constant tug-of-war between what he knows to be right and what the people around him are saying about the reality of life. It is the case that the princess and his family has always been a negative force in his life. For a man who is fairly simple-minded about life, he’s doomed to make mistakes over and over again.

What’s pleasing about Flourished Peony isn’t the romance but the journey that everyone is on especially Mudan. Hers isn’t an easy one. She has the smarts and survival instincts to jump through the hoops but intelligence alone doesn’t guarantee success. Leaving her in-laws and finding freedom is only the beginning of a long arduous journey. She can’t do it without the goodwill of others even with all the blood and guts in the world. Mudan has to fight tooth and nail for every single thing which makes the journey more immersive.

The first five or six episodes move at a frenetic speed but then like all other C dramas, it slows down considerably. Yang Zi and Li Xian are reliably good in their respective roles. These days they’re considered established actors anyway. Evidently they are able to command better scripts than most. They play off each other well although they don’t have that many scenes together at this point. Miles Wei is someone I’ve liked since seeing him in Unforgettable Love as well as Perfect and Casual. This role has given me a glimpse of another side to his acting. To his credit I don’t hate Liu Chang yet although I get the feeling I should. But all I see (so far) is a man who is in the wrong place at the wrong time making bad decisions because he fails to navigate that world without compromising his beliefs.

Speaking of male archetypes and role reversals, I’m really enjoying Love Scout more than I thought I would reading online comments. The subject matter is nicely explored in a drama format. It’s one of those “healing” shows that don’t really need any kind of romance (much less the possibility of a love triangle). I’m not a fan of Han Ji-min although with the right male lead I might survive the ride. That angry demeanour works to her advantage in certain situations. She was okay in Hyde, Jekyll and Me probably because of Hyun Bin but comes across highly unlikeable in One Spring Night. Her being the domineering CEO of the recruitment agency does work because she excels in carrying off an angry vibe.

Lee Joon-hyuk is never a disappointment and his choice of this role did pique my interest. On the face of it, it does appear to be a role reversal. Han Jimin’s character playing a cantankerous CEO in the tradition of a male lead but she’s also a woman who is craving acceptance. Yoo Eun-ho is a warm-hearted single dad who has prioritized his daughter over his career. He’s a people-person in so far as he understands that a business can only succeed if they look at the client or staff as whole human beings with bodies, hearts and minds. The crisis with his daughter has given him important insight into how band-aid solutions pay lip service to deep-rooted problems. The implication is that he’s the perfect employee because he’s the perfect dad. Furthermore he complements the CEO perfectly because he can perceive things she can’t.

Quite coincidentally I’ve been reading Stephen Covey’s The 8th Habit these past weeks. What struck me as salient is his (what I would consider common sense) diagnosis of organizations which I’ve observed myself. It’s not surprising that the vast majority of working men and women are so dissatisfied with things at work but the stats are crushing.

With that in mind, Love Scout is arguably a discourse on leadership and what a good leader looks like. While Kang Yijun is the go-getting CEO, she’s not an especially good leader although I hasten to add that leaders don’t have to be good at everything. Screeds have been written about this. What good leaders have in common is that they are able to inspire the troops to move forward as a united front. They are able to tap into the differences in their subordinates and give them a common vision. So I’m guessing after 4 episodes that the show is partly about building the dream team. No doubt also the show is saying that Yi-jun needs someone Eun-ho desperately. She may be the boss but someone needs to look after her. And at times even protect her from herself. Yoo Eun-ho is the lowkey sage of Peoplez Inc.

I’m glad I came for Lee Joon-hyuk and got more than eye candy. The questions that have been thrown up for consideration are ones that are generally relatable. Perhaps even too close to home for some of us. It’s well-thought out and certainly plenty of research has gone into writing that script.

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