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This review may contain spoilers
An Excellent BL With One Major Problem I Couldn’t Ignore
Kiseki: Dear to Me surprised me. I expected a fairly standard gangster/BL setup, but this is much more ambitious than that. There are two central romances, organized-crime and family politics, betrayal, sacrifice, memory loss, found family, and consequences that genuinely alter the characters’ lives. Most importantly for me, the story would still have substance even if you temporarily removed the romance.
The main couple begins when 17-year-old Bai Zong Yi encounters an injured gangster, Fan Ze Rui, who essentially blackmails his way into Zong Yi’s tiny apartment. What starts as extremely unwilling cohabitation slowly becomes domestic and affectionate. Zong Yi is poor, working while still in high school, and determined to become a doctor. Rui cooks for him, helps with his studies, and gradually turns a lonely apartment into a home.
Their chemistry is excellent, and I especially loved that Zong Yi is not written as passive simply because he is younger. He is emotionally direct, stubborn, physically confident, and consistently the more proactive person in the relationship. Taro Lin gives Zong Yi much more emotional weight than I expected from such a young actor. He was one of the strongest performers in the series.
However, I cannot ignore the biggest problem: Zong Yi is 17 when his relationship with adult Ze Rui becomes sexual. The show itself acknowledges the age issue — Rui initially rejects him specifically because he is underage — and then crosses that boundary anyway. I understood later why the writers may have needed Zong Yi to remain a minor for an important plot development, but that explains the writing choice; it does not make the sexual relationship comfortable for me. I liked this couple enormously, but this kept me from experiencing parts of their romance as uncomplicatedly romantic.
The secondary couple, Chen Yi and Ai Di, may actually be the emotional standout of the drama. Their relationship is messy, painful, funny, frustrating, and built on years of shared history. Ai Di in particular is a fantastic character, and Louis Chiang is exceptional in the role. Everyone in the cast is good, but he consistently stood out to me. Ai Di could easily have become loud comic relief or a stereotypical jealous second lead; instead, Chiang gives him remarkable emotional complexity and vulnerability.
The drama also does something I appreciated with its time jump and memory-loss storyline: the consequences matter. People lose years. Dreams change. Relationships are damaged. The story doesn’t simply press a reset button and return everyone to where they started. Zong Yi’s later life in particular carries visible consequences from what happened to him, and I loved that the ending incorporates those limitations into his future rather than magically curing them.
Both couples have terrific chemistry, the supporting relationships are unusually important, and I loved that the Fan-family storyline avoided the predictable “threatened half-brother becomes evil” route. There is also a genuine found-family thread running through the entire drama that becomes increasingly meaningful as the story develops.
The pacing occasionally moves very quickly, especially considering how much plot is packed into thirteen short episodes, but I was never bored. I went from laughing at strawberry cake, cats, hot pot, and romantic incompetence to crying through huge portions of the later episodes.
And yes, watch the post-credit scene in the finale. It gives Zong Yi and Rui exactly the kind of quiet emotional ending their story needed.
Overall, this was an excellent drama with strong storytelling, memorable characters, two compelling couples, and several genuinely outstanding performances. I just wish the writers had found a way to accomplish what they needed narratively without making Zong Yi sexually involved with an adult while he was still 17.
The main couple begins when 17-year-old Bai Zong Yi encounters an injured gangster, Fan Ze Rui, who essentially blackmails his way into Zong Yi’s tiny apartment. What starts as extremely unwilling cohabitation slowly becomes domestic and affectionate. Zong Yi is poor, working while still in high school, and determined to become a doctor. Rui cooks for him, helps with his studies, and gradually turns a lonely apartment into a home.
Their chemistry is excellent, and I especially loved that Zong Yi is not written as passive simply because he is younger. He is emotionally direct, stubborn, physically confident, and consistently the more proactive person in the relationship. Taro Lin gives Zong Yi much more emotional weight than I expected from such a young actor. He was one of the strongest performers in the series.
However, I cannot ignore the biggest problem: Zong Yi is 17 when his relationship with adult Ze Rui becomes sexual. The show itself acknowledges the age issue — Rui initially rejects him specifically because he is underage — and then crosses that boundary anyway. I understood later why the writers may have needed Zong Yi to remain a minor for an important plot development, but that explains the writing choice; it does not make the sexual relationship comfortable for me. I liked this couple enormously, but this kept me from experiencing parts of their romance as uncomplicatedly romantic.
The secondary couple, Chen Yi and Ai Di, may actually be the emotional standout of the drama. Their relationship is messy, painful, funny, frustrating, and built on years of shared history. Ai Di in particular is a fantastic character, and Louis Chiang is exceptional in the role. Everyone in the cast is good, but he consistently stood out to me. Ai Di could easily have become loud comic relief or a stereotypical jealous second lead; instead, Chiang gives him remarkable emotional complexity and vulnerability.
The drama also does something I appreciated with its time jump and memory-loss storyline: the consequences matter. People lose years. Dreams change. Relationships are damaged. The story doesn’t simply press a reset button and return everyone to where they started. Zong Yi’s later life in particular carries visible consequences from what happened to him, and I loved that the ending incorporates those limitations into his future rather than magically curing them.
Both couples have terrific chemistry, the supporting relationships are unusually important, and I loved that the Fan-family storyline avoided the predictable “threatened half-brother becomes evil” route. There is also a genuine found-family thread running through the entire drama that becomes increasingly meaningful as the story develops.
The pacing occasionally moves very quickly, especially considering how much plot is packed into thirteen short episodes, but I was never bored. I went from laughing at strawberry cake, cats, hot pot, and romantic incompetence to crying through huge portions of the later episodes.
And yes, watch the post-credit scene in the finale. It gives Zong Yi and Rui exactly the kind of quiet emotional ending their story needed.
Overall, this was an excellent drama with strong storytelling, memorable characters, two compelling couples, and several genuinely outstanding performances. I just wish the writers had found a way to accomplish what they needed narratively without making Zong Yi sexually involved with an adult while he was still 17.
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