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Romance, Mystery and Enough Frustration to Make You Want to Punch Someone
First Frost makes you laugh out loud, swoon over a romantic moment, and then suddenly feel like punching a villain in the face. It is an emotional roller coaster, and that is precisely what makes it so entertaining.
First Frost can be seen as a companion drama to Hidden Love. While Hidden Love focuses almost entirely on the sweet, youthful romance between Sang Zhi and Duan Jiaxu, First Frost shifts the spotlight to Sang Zhi's brother, Sang Yan, and his complicated relationship with his high-school sweetheart, Wen Yifan. They are two separate stories, but both are immensely enjoyable.
Where First Frost is particularly effective is in the way it combines romance with mystery. Sang Yan and Yifan clearly have a history, and their reunion after years apart is filled with awkwardness, denial, and unresolved feelings. They pretend not to recognise each other, which immediately sets the tone for the deliciously uncomfortable humour that follows.
But the central question is: why did Yifan leave Sang Yan?
Why would she reject Sang Yan when it is obvious that he was deeply devoted to her? The drama gradually reveals that there is far more behind their separation than a simple change of heart, and this mystery gives the romance an emotional depth that keeps the story moving.
The drama succeeds because it takes the audience to emotional extremes. One moment, I found myself guffawing at the sheer awkwardness of Sang Yan and Yifan's encounters. The next, I was exasperated by Sang Yan's obvious jealousy. He claims that he is completely over Yifan, but whenever another potential suitor appears, he suddenly becomes cynical, resentful, and thoroughly unable to hide his feelings.
His behaviour may not always be admirable, but it is very entertaining to watch.
The coincidences that keep throwing them together are, admittedly, rather convenient. In a crowded city, what are the chances of constantly walking into the same person? And eventually ending up under the same roof? Coincidence—or perhaps something a little more deliberate? Realistic or not, these situations create much of the awkwardness and humour that the drama captures so seamlessly.
Then there is the darker side of the story.
The appearance of Yifan's harasser is enough to make your blood boil. You may find yourself wanting to punch him on her behalf. It is immediately obvious that there is a disturbing history between them, but the drama keeps us asking: What happened? Why is Yifan so frightened of him? And how much did this part of her past contribute to the breakdown of her relationship with Sang Yan?
The drama also deals with family relationships in a way that can be deeply frustrating. I found it difficult not to feel disgusted with a mother who makes so little effort to protect her daughter when she is in despair, yet still expects unquestioning respect and obedience.
When you suddenly discover that you have a half-brother you never knew existed, that is rather a lot to take in. Filial piety should not simply be expected; surely, to some extent, it should also be earned. Yifan asks a very good question: as her mother, can she simply disregard her daughter's feelings?
Against all this darkness are moments of extraordinary tenderness. Returning to places filled with memories, finally confessing feelings that have been buried for years, and allowing oneself to be loved again—these scenes remind us why romantic dramas remain so popular. Falling in love is, after all, a beautiful thing.
There is also a satisfying element of karma in the story. People do, to a certain extent, reap what they sow.
And, of course, the cute cats and dogs provide that extra tug on the heartstrings.
A Few Things the Drama Made Me Think About:
- Communication matters.
If Sang Yan and Yifan had communicated more openly, they could probably have spared themselves years of pain. However, I also understand why this was not so simple. In a reserved culture, expressing one's deepest fears can be extremely difficult—especially when someone has been conditioned to believe that they will be despised for something that was not their fault.
That said, I still found myself becoming annoyed with Yifan for keeping so much to herself. Surely Sang Yan would have helped her if he had known.
- Being mean is not a good strategy for winning back a lost love.
Sang Yan can be needlessly mean to Yifan. His sarcasm and coldness may conceal his hurt, but they do not exactly make reconciliation easier.
- Running away does not always solve the problem.
Sometimes, removing yourself from a dangerous situation is necessary. But simply running away from unresolved problems can also leave the perpetrator with too much power. It allows them to remain the cat while you continue to live as the frightened mouse.
And, Because No Review Is Complete Without a Few Nitpicks...
- Sang Yan and Yifan seem destined to walk into each other wherever they go. In a city with millions of people, what are the chances? But then, without these highly convenient coincidences, we would lose much of the drama's humour and awkward charm.
- Chinese dramas have a remarkable habit of showing waitresses, government officers, and police officers as exceptionally kind and helpful. Personally, based on my own experiences travelling in China, I am not entirely convinced that this is always the reality.
- And finally, I have to ask: does this country not have an anti-stalking law?
Overall Verdict
First Frost is a highly enjoyable drama that successfully combines humour, romance, suspense, mystery, anger, and tenderness. The central romance works because it is not simply about two people falling in love. It is about what happens when love is interrupted by fear, secrets, trauma, pride, and years of silence.
The drama can be frustrating. The characters can be frustrating. Some of the coincidences are decidedly improbable. But these flaws are more than compensated for by the chemistry, emotional tension, humour, and genuine tenderness between the characters.
Overall, I rate First Frost highly.
After all, it is always beautiful to fall in love—even if, years after marriage, you may eventually find yourselves at each other's throats.
First Frost can be seen as a companion drama to Hidden Love. While Hidden Love focuses almost entirely on the sweet, youthful romance between Sang Zhi and Duan Jiaxu, First Frost shifts the spotlight to Sang Zhi's brother, Sang Yan, and his complicated relationship with his high-school sweetheart, Wen Yifan. They are two separate stories, but both are immensely enjoyable.
Where First Frost is particularly effective is in the way it combines romance with mystery. Sang Yan and Yifan clearly have a history, and their reunion after years apart is filled with awkwardness, denial, and unresolved feelings. They pretend not to recognise each other, which immediately sets the tone for the deliciously uncomfortable humour that follows.
But the central question is: why did Yifan leave Sang Yan?
Why would she reject Sang Yan when it is obvious that he was deeply devoted to her? The drama gradually reveals that there is far more behind their separation than a simple change of heart, and this mystery gives the romance an emotional depth that keeps the story moving.
The drama succeeds because it takes the audience to emotional extremes. One moment, I found myself guffawing at the sheer awkwardness of Sang Yan and Yifan's encounters. The next, I was exasperated by Sang Yan's obvious jealousy. He claims that he is completely over Yifan, but whenever another potential suitor appears, he suddenly becomes cynical, resentful, and thoroughly unable to hide his feelings.
His behaviour may not always be admirable, but it is very entertaining to watch.
The coincidences that keep throwing them together are, admittedly, rather convenient. In a crowded city, what are the chances of constantly walking into the same person? And eventually ending up under the same roof? Coincidence—or perhaps something a little more deliberate? Realistic or not, these situations create much of the awkwardness and humour that the drama captures so seamlessly.
Then there is the darker side of the story.
The appearance of Yifan's harasser is enough to make your blood boil. You may find yourself wanting to punch him on her behalf. It is immediately obvious that there is a disturbing history between them, but the drama keeps us asking: What happened? Why is Yifan so frightened of him? And how much did this part of her past contribute to the breakdown of her relationship with Sang Yan?
The drama also deals with family relationships in a way that can be deeply frustrating. I found it difficult not to feel disgusted with a mother who makes so little effort to protect her daughter when she is in despair, yet still expects unquestioning respect and obedience.
When you suddenly discover that you have a half-brother you never knew existed, that is rather a lot to take in. Filial piety should not simply be expected; surely, to some extent, it should also be earned. Yifan asks a very good question: as her mother, can she simply disregard her daughter's feelings?
Against all this darkness are moments of extraordinary tenderness. Returning to places filled with memories, finally confessing feelings that have been buried for years, and allowing oneself to be loved again—these scenes remind us why romantic dramas remain so popular. Falling in love is, after all, a beautiful thing.
There is also a satisfying element of karma in the story. People do, to a certain extent, reap what they sow.
And, of course, the cute cats and dogs provide that extra tug on the heartstrings.
A Few Things the Drama Made Me Think About:
- Communication matters.
If Sang Yan and Yifan had communicated more openly, they could probably have spared themselves years of pain. However, I also understand why this was not so simple. In a reserved culture, expressing one's deepest fears can be extremely difficult—especially when someone has been conditioned to believe that they will be despised for something that was not their fault.
That said, I still found myself becoming annoyed with Yifan for keeping so much to herself. Surely Sang Yan would have helped her if he had known.
- Being mean is not a good strategy for winning back a lost love.
Sang Yan can be needlessly mean to Yifan. His sarcasm and coldness may conceal his hurt, but they do not exactly make reconciliation easier.
- Running away does not always solve the problem.
Sometimes, removing yourself from a dangerous situation is necessary. But simply running away from unresolved problems can also leave the perpetrator with too much power. It allows them to remain the cat while you continue to live as the frightened mouse.
And, Because No Review Is Complete Without a Few Nitpicks...
- Sang Yan and Yifan seem destined to walk into each other wherever they go. In a city with millions of people, what are the chances? But then, without these highly convenient coincidences, we would lose much of the drama's humour and awkward charm.
- Chinese dramas have a remarkable habit of showing waitresses, government officers, and police officers as exceptionally kind and helpful. Personally, based on my own experiences travelling in China, I am not entirely convinced that this is always the reality.
- And finally, I have to ask: does this country not have an anti-stalking law?
Overall Verdict
First Frost is a highly enjoyable drama that successfully combines humour, romance, suspense, mystery, anger, and tenderness. The central romance works because it is not simply about two people falling in love. It is about what happens when love is interrupted by fear, secrets, trauma, pride, and years of silence.
The drama can be frustrating. The characters can be frustrating. Some of the coincidences are decidedly improbable. But these flaws are more than compensated for by the chemistry, emotional tension, humour, and genuine tenderness between the characters.
Overall, I rate First Frost highly.
After all, it is always beautiful to fall in love—even if, years after marriage, you may eventually find yourselves at each other's throats.
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