Ancient Thai people in Ayutthaya period and in Sukhothai period don’t kiss on the lips. It wasn’t exist among…
Thanks for the information. I’m not an expert on Thai history at all, but the line saying there was no evidence in any poem or painting made me curious, so I went digging.
The sniff-kiss part seems solid. Hǒm (หอม) is a traditional Thai form of affection, and a common account among Thai scholars treats lip kissing as something that came from the West. The rest seems less settled.
This debate played out in Thai media in April 2018, when the series Love Destiny was building toward a kiss scene. Khaosod’s report quoted Patisorn Phensut and others pointing to the absence of lip kissing in surviving murals and old erotic literature. Two days later, Matichon ran a short response by Dr. Trongjai Hutangkura of the Sirindhorn Anthropology Centre, drawing on his reading of Thawathotsamat, an Ayutthaya-era poem.
In one passage, the poet remembers his lover’s “supple tongue,” continuing from a stanza in which he has been caressing her face and recalling their bodies pressed together. Dr. Trongjai reads that continuity as possible mouth-to-mouth kissing, perhaps even with tongue.
That reading isn’t conclusive. But it does mean “no evidence in any poem” is too absolute.
The Rama VI date also seems to be an estimate for when explicit Western-style kissing began appearing in Thai writing, not proof of when people first did it privately. I also couldn’t find support for the idea that foreign residents never kissed publicly, so Thai people never learned it. That reasoning assumes a private practice could cross cultures only by being demonstrated in public. Ayutthaya had long-term foreign communities, mixed households, and intermarriage.
None of that proves lip kissing entered Thai practice. It does mean “they never saw it happen” explains very little.
The betel-chewing explanation may be plausible, but it is still an explanation built from the same absence, not independent evidence of behavior.
So I think the careful version is that sniff kissing was the visible, traditional form, while evidence for lip kissing is scarce and disputed. Representation entered the record at some point. Private behavior does not necessarily begin there.
What to address first? My emotions or my confusion? I need someone to talk to. Let me start with my confusion…
Both of the details you found (Lan Jie’s tombstone and the watches in ep 11) point the same direction, so you’re not imagining it. It looks like the show may be set at some point in the future, though nothing’s been officially confirmed. The 未 on the tombstone can also just mean “not yet,” so some of us have wondered if it’s hinting Lan Jie’s death hasn’t actually happened at the point the story is telling us it has. Take your time sitting with it, the show clearly wants you unsettled right now.
Takoi is usually the guy who can laugh a room back to normal. In episode 6 he starts to, then the voice just drops. Watanabe Shu doesn’t push the tears. He lets them happen, quiet, like Takoi himself is surprised they’re there.
If you haven’t started this BL, catch up. Ten episodes. Six already out.
After more than ten years of shooting film and television, I never thought I’d end up shooting weddings.
This was the final scene in the drama itself. We wanted it to look beautiful and dreamlike. To get that effect, I bought a swirly-bokeh lens especially for it. The location was in the woods, where we couldn’t use a generator truck, so we had to rely on natural light.
When we arrived on location that morning, we first checked the path of the sun and estimated when the light would be at its best. At the same time, we coordinated with the production design and props teams on where to place the flowers and how the actors would move through the scene.
A little after three, the light came through the trees, giving us a window of about an hour of good light. We made the most of that hour or so and finished shooting the scene. I was very happy with the result. It came out just as I had envisioned.
晴朗還是等到了他的新郎回來了。🥹 Qinglang waited, and his groom did come back to him after all. 🥹
【Translation Notes】
* 拍片／婚慶: The opening contains a self-deprecating joke. After more than ten years of shooting film and television, the cinematographer has effectively found himself shooting a wedding. “Shooting weddings” keeps the joke while sounding natural in English.
* 正片: This refers to the drama itself, as opposed to behind-the-scenes footage, promotional material, or additional scenes. That is why it is translated as “the drama itself.”
* 旋焦鏡頭: A lens that creates a distinctive swirling blur in the out-of-focus background. “Swirly-bokeh lens” is the established descriptive term. It does not mean a zoom lens or a lens whose focus physically rotates.
* 發電車: A mobile generator truck used to supply power for lighting and other equipment during location filming. The original does not explain why it could not be used, so the translation leaves that unspecified.
* 美術、道具／動線邏輯: 美術 and 道具 refer to the production design and props teams. 動線邏輯 means ensuring that the actors’ movements through the setting feel natural and make sense within the scene. In film production, this is closely related to blocking.
* 還是等到了: This carries a sense of waiting that is finally rewarded. 還是 means “after all,” while 等到了 means that what Qinglang had been waiting for eventually happened. The English line is restructured slightly to preserve both the waiting and its fulfillment. “Groom” is retained because 新郎 is specifically tied to the wedding scene.
They’re supposed to go to the planetarium this episode, but it’s under renovation, so they end up at WOW Park instead.
If you’re in Bangkok with kids and it rains, this actually looks like a decent place to spend a few hours. They can run around and play. They might even learn some science while they’re there. As a date spot, though, it really depends on who you’re with.
The whole episode is just Cheewa going after Niran with no brakes.
He never says, “We’re doing what I want.” But somehow, everything still ends up exactly the way he wants.
Then again, Niran lets him. He spoils Cheewa so much.
“Next time you see this, you’ll think of me.” That’s not flirting. That’s psychological conditioning.
Do you have, like, a giant whiteboard in your room with a full decision tree for how to win Niran over?
If Niran says yes, Route A. If he says no, Route B. If it rains, backup plan.
Being pursued by AI must feel something like this.
The Edge of Horizon made me see Inn and Ongsa’s acting.
In the first ten episodes they probably cried as much as I did. Those tears weren’t just there to make the audience ache. They were the love they didn’t dare say out loud.
Status, family, the whole era standing between them, and they still couldn’t stop looking back at each other.
So when episode 11 gave them the HE, of course I exhaled.
But even if it had been a BE, this would still be a masterpiece. Because the hardest part was already finished before the ending: making you believe Phob and Tin really loved each other, and that they really suffered for each other.
The lift onto the sink is the part everyone clipped. Not the part that got me.
After. Wan is still shaking. Third doesn’t talk him out of it. He just breathes, slow, and waits for Wan to follow. Like the fight they just had matters less than getting air back in.
That’s an apology without the words for it yet. Breath instead.
And Save plays the panic like a body, not a beat. I stopped seeing two actors in a bathroom.
Dean reminds me of a girl I used to go clubbing with in my twenties.
Not me. Her. She walked in already knowing the bartender. She could take a throwaway compliment and stretch it into a whole night. Feelings were optional. Added later, if you felt like it. Same polish. Same range. Same this-is-just-how-I-talk energy.
Weird thing to say about a BL, but this one keeps reminding me of my straight dating youth. Different pairing. Same game.
“You smell good” is a club line. Close enough to test the air. Easy enough to take back in the morning. It is not a confession. It is a tap on the glass to see if anyone is home.
“You can do whatever you want” is the one that gets you. It sounds like freedom. What it does is put him in the room where the bad decision happens, smiling like he is only holding the door.
That was the thing with those people. They never chased. They left it open and let you decide you wanted to walk through.
one of the messages here is that QL learn how to live as an individual regardless of who is accompanying him or…
The karmic partner idea is a good lens, and it explains something that bothered me. Why give Han Lu and Hao Yu almost the same shape of relationship. If Shi Yuhao taught Qing Lang to distrust his own heart, then watching that same pattern play out in someone else, from the outside this time, might be the only way Qing Lang could ever actually see it clearly. He couldn't see it while he was inside it.
And you're right that surviving something doesn't erase it. It just gets carried differently. Qing Lang doesn't forget what almost happened to him with Shi Yuhao, he just learns to recognize it faster the second time, in Chang Yang, in himself. That line you quoted, we are actors, if we want to just survive there won't be a future, that's Shi Yuhao warning him and warning himself at the same time. He knew what he was asking Qing Lang to settle for.
In episode one, Mok Fei Foon never gets to eat his bo lo bao (a Hong Kong bun named for its crisp, pineapple-patterned crust).
In episode four, he runs into a childhood friend at a little shop. They order the same thing. Bo lo bao.
You know the kind of place. Long and narrow, running straight back. The kind of food people in Hong Kong eat without thinking about it. I haven’t found that sense of place in other BLs.
Someone like Hui Loek To would never set foot in a place like that. Not if he hadn’t met Mok Fei Foon.
There were many ways to handle the flashbacks. In the end, they chose AI animation.
Most of the discussion I have seen falls into two camps. Some people are unhappy with it. Others say we should not let that erase everything the show does well.
I haven’t seen anyone ask this.
Was the AI animation in episode four actually any good?
That is subjective. Some people will not care how rough it looks. Others, including me, felt the Hong Kong texture drain out of it.
Coke in a glass bottle. Bo lo bao. That long, narrow shop.
Then the dark, muddy AI animation.
Hui Loek To’s mother is played by veteran actress Pat Ha. His father gets whatever the AI happened to generate.
Could they really not find an actor?
The problem is not that they used AI. The problem is that the AI did not preserve or deepen the texture the show already had. It pulled the whole thing down.
The scar on Mok Fei Foon’s forehead. The pores on his face. No heavy filters or makeup. That realism is one of the things I admire most about this BL.
The crude AI made me sad.
Not because it was AI. Because it wasn’t made with the same attention as everything around it.
This is my view. You can have yours. I respect that. I may not respond.
one of the messages here is that QL learn how to live as an individual regardless of who is accompanying him or…
That's the piece I keep circling without landing on. He isn't waiting to become someone worth loving. He's becoming someone who can love properly, and those aren't the same journey.
It also explains why the show never lets him be bitter. Bitterness would mean the waiting was something happening to him. Independence means he was doing something the whole time, whether or not anyone was there to see it.
Because sometimes wait is a more desperate feeling. It asks ur missing and waited person to come home easily.…
Wait makes you see, that reframes something I had backwards. I’d been thinking Qing Lang missed the sky because his time was so managed. You’re saying it’s the other way. Waiting is what teaches a person to look up. If there’d been someone to wait for, he might have noticed the window.
And I like that you widened it past Qing Lang. Most of us don’t watch the sky either, we just don’t have fame to blame it on. Maybe waiting is the only thing that makes anyone actually look.
In Episode 1, after the car passes Xiqui, Qing Lang becomes terribly sick. Carsick. Vomiting.
He asks Qing Tian what time they will arrive. Qing Tian repeats what Chang Yang said.
Before dark.
Qing Lang replies, “How am I supposed to know what time it gets dark?”
In Episode 15, early one morning, Chang Yang quietly asks Qing Lang if he wants to visit the market in the countryside.
Qing Lang keeps his eyes closed. He barely manages to ask, “What time is it?”
Chang Yang says, “It’s light out.”
Qing Lang replies, “How am I supposed to know what time it gets light?”
I keep imagining that for someone as famous as Qing Lang, time rarely comes from the sky outside his window. Maybe he seldom sees the sun rise or set. Maybe his days are arranged for him, hour by hour.
What he needs is not “before dark” or “after daybreak.”
He needs a number. An exact time.
That is the part that hurts.
Chang Yang’s return had no number. No date anyone could promise. Only waiting, stretching beyond sight.
Chang Yang’s father had been sentenced to life. But Qing Lang was not serving a sentence. Nobody told him how many years he would have to wait. The waiting had no shape to it at all.
Then, in the end, Chang Yang came home.
And through all those years, we never see bitterness in Qing Lang. No resentment.
A few things that stayed with me after episode three:
James usually has that roguish kind of charm, but drunk James turns adorable. He asks Ken for his LINE ID because he wants to send him stickers, and then he really does send one cute sticker after another. He even squishes Ken’s cheeks and starts calling him Mochi.
Cold, empty-eyed Ken somehow turns possessive. A woman approaches drunk James, and Ken turns her down for him before James can say anything. Then Ken, who’s at least two hundred years old, scoops him up bridal style. The boyfriend energy was ridiculous.
And then those kisses. Maybe eight years of modeling explains why Boss looks so comfortable in front of the camera. It doesn’t explain how a first-time actor kisses like that.
Could one of the officers please peel that long strip of red tape off the floor? There’s no point in keeping it there. They’ve both crossed the line.
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The sniff-kiss part seems solid. Hǒm (หอม) is a traditional Thai form of affection, and a common account among Thai scholars treats lip kissing as something that came from the West. The rest seems less settled.
This debate played out in Thai media in April 2018, when the series Love Destiny was building toward a kiss scene. Khaosod’s report quoted Patisorn Phensut and others pointing to the absence of lip kissing in surviving murals and old erotic literature. Two days later, Matichon ran a short response by Dr. Trongjai Hutangkura of the Sirindhorn Anthropology Centre, drawing on his reading of Thawathotsamat, an Ayutthaya-era poem.
In one passage, the poet remembers his lover’s “supple tongue,” continuing from a stanza in which he has been caressing her face and recalling their bodies pressed together. Dr. Trongjai reads that continuity as possible mouth-to-mouth kissing, perhaps even with tongue.
That reading isn’t conclusive. But it does mean “no evidence in any poem” is too absolute.
The Rama VI date also seems to be an estimate for when explicit Western-style kissing began appearing in Thai writing, not proof of when people first did it privately. I also couldn’t find support for the idea that foreign residents never kissed publicly, so Thai people never learned it. That reasoning assumes a private practice could cross cultures only by being demonstrated in public. Ayutthaya had long-term foreign communities, mixed households, and intermarriage.
None of that proves lip kissing entered Thai practice. It does mean “they never saw it happen” explains very little.
The betel-chewing explanation may be plausible, but it is still an explanation built from the same absence, not independent evidence of behavior.
So I think the careful version is that sniff kissing was the visible, traditional form, while evidence for lip kissing is scarce and disputed. Representation entered the record at some point. Private behavior does not necessarily begin there.
If you haven’t started this BL, catch up. Ten episodes. Six already out.
The English translation and notes below are my own, not an official translation.
拍了十幾年片，沒想到最後還是幹上了婚慶。
這場戲是正片最後一幕，我們想把它拍得唯美又夢幻。為了效果，我專門買了顆旋焦鏡頭。場景又在樹林裡，沒法用發電車，只能靠自然光。
早上到現場時，我們先看了太陽軌跡，估算什麼時候光線最好。同時和美術、道具溝通鮮花擺放位置，還有演員的動線邏輯。
三點多的時候，光線穿透樹林，正好有一小時左右的好光。我們抓緊那一個多小時拍完了這場戲。結果很滿意，達到了我心裡的預期。
【English Translation】
After more than ten years of shooting film and television, I never thought I’d end up shooting weddings.
This was the final scene in the drama itself. We wanted it to look beautiful and dreamlike. To get that effect, I bought a swirly-bokeh lens especially for it. The location was in the woods, where we couldn’t use a generator truck, so we had to rely on natural light.
When we arrived on location that morning, we first checked the path of the sun and estimated when the light would be at its best. At the same time, we coordinated with the production design and props teams on where to place the flowers and how the actors would move through the scene.
A little after three, the light came through the trees, giving us a window of about an hour of good light. We made the most of that hour or so and finished shooting the scene. I was very happy with the result. It came out just as I had envisioned.
晴朗還是等到了他的新郎回來了。🥹
Qinglang waited, and his groom did come back to him after all. 🥹
【Translation Notes】
* 拍片／婚慶: The opening contains a self-deprecating joke. After more than ten years of shooting film and television, the cinematographer has effectively found himself shooting a wedding. “Shooting weddings” keeps the joke while sounding natural in English.
* 正片: This refers to the drama itself, as opposed to behind-the-scenes footage, promotional material, or additional scenes. That is why it is translated as “the drama itself.”
* 旋焦鏡頭: A lens that creates a distinctive swirling blur in the out-of-focus background. “Swirly-bokeh lens” is the established descriptive term. It does not mean a zoom lens or a lens whose focus physically rotates.
* 發電車: A mobile generator truck used to supply power for lighting and other equipment during location filming. The original does not explain why it could not be used, so the translation leaves that unspecified.
* 美術、道具／動線邏輯: 美術 and 道具 refer to the production design and props teams. 動線邏輯 means ensuring that the actors’ movements through the setting feel natural and make sense within the scene. In film production, this is closely related to blocking.
* 還是等到了: This carries a sense of waiting that is finally rewarded. 還是 means “after all,” while 等到了 means that what Qinglang had been waiting for eventually happened. The English line is restructured slightly to preserve both the waiting and its fulfillment. “Groom” is retained because 新郎 is specifically tied to the wedding scene.
If you’re in Bangkok with kids and it rains, this actually looks like a decent place to spend a few hours. They can run around and play. They might even learn some science while they’re there. As a date spot, though, it really depends on who you’re with.
The whole episode is just Cheewa going after Niran with no brakes.
He never says, “We’re doing what I want.” But somehow, everything still ends up exactly the way he wants.
Then again, Niran lets him. He spoils Cheewa so much.
“Next time you see this, you’ll think of me.”
That’s not flirting. That’s psychological conditioning.
Do you have, like, a giant whiteboard in your room with a full decision tree for how to win Niran over?
If Niran says yes, Route A. If he says no, Route B. If it rains, backup plan.
Being pursued by AI must feel something like this.
And the mother and sister. Quiet, careful, no speeches. They notice, they worry the right way, they make room.
Eight might be my favorite so far.
In the first ten episodes they probably cried as much as I did. Those tears weren’t just there to make the audience ache. They were the love they didn’t dare say out loud.
Status, family, the whole era standing between them, and they still couldn’t stop looking back at each other.
So when episode 11 gave them the HE, of course I exhaled.
But even if it had been a BE, this would still be a masterpiece. Because the hardest part was already finished before the ending: making you believe Phob and Tin really loved each other, and that they really suffered for each other.
After. Wan is still shaking. Third doesn’t talk him out of it. He just breathes, slow, and waits for Wan to follow. Like the fight they just had matters less than getting air back in.
That’s an apology without the words for it yet. Breath instead.
And Save plays the panic like a body, not a beat. I stopped seeing two actors in a bathroom.
Episode 1 wasn’t supposed to have that yet.
Not me. Her. She walked in already knowing the bartender. She could take a throwaway compliment and stretch it into a whole night. Feelings were optional. Added later, if you felt like it. Same polish. Same range. Same this-is-just-how-I-talk energy.
Weird thing to say about a BL, but this one keeps reminding me of my straight dating youth. Different pairing. Same game.
“You smell good” is a club line. Close enough to test the air. Easy enough to take back in the morning. It is not a confession. It is a tap on the glass to see if anyone is home.
“You can do whatever you want” is the one that gets you. It sounds like freedom. What it does is put him in the room where the bad decision happens, smiling like he is only holding the door.
That was the thing with those people. They never chased. They left it open and let you decide you wanted to walk through.
Solid start.
And you're right that surviving something doesn't erase it. It just gets carried differently. Qing Lang doesn't forget what almost happened to him with Shi Yuhao, he just learns to recognize it faster the second time, in Chang Yang, in himself. That line you quoted, we are actors, if we want to just survive there won't be a future, that's Shi Yuhao warning him and warning himself at the same time. He knew what he was asking Qing Lang to settle for.
In episode four, he runs into a childhood friend at a little shop. They order the same thing. Bo lo bao.
You know the kind of place. Long and narrow, running straight back. The kind of food people in Hong Kong eat without thinking about it. I haven’t found that sense of place in other BLs.
Someone like Hui Loek To would never set foot in a place like that. Not if he hadn’t met Mok Fei Foon.
There were many ways to handle the flashbacks. In the end, they chose AI animation.
Most of the discussion I have seen falls into two camps. Some people are unhappy with it. Others say we should not let that erase everything the show does well.
I haven’t seen anyone ask this.
Was the AI animation in episode four actually any good?
That is subjective. Some people will not care how rough it looks. Others, including me, felt the Hong Kong texture drain out of it.
Coke in a glass bottle. Bo lo bao. That long, narrow shop.
Then the dark, muddy AI animation.
Hui Loek To’s mother is played by veteran actress Pat Ha. His father gets whatever the AI happened to generate.
Could they really not find an actor?
The problem is not that they used AI. The problem is that the AI did not preserve or deepen the texture the show already had. It pulled the whole thing down.
The scar on Mok Fei Foon’s forehead. The pores on his face. No heavy filters or makeup. That realism is one of the things I admire most about this BL.
The crude AI made me sad.
Not because it was AI. Because it wasn’t made with the same attention as everything around it.
This is my view. You can have yours. I respect that. I may not respond.
It also explains why the show never lets him be bitter. Bitterness would mean the waiting was something happening to him. Independence means he was doing something the whole time, whether or not anyone was there to see it.
The whole thing runs like that. Short, sharp, every line angling.
I’ve been saying it out loud since Tuesday.
And I like that you widened it past Qing Lang. Most of us don’t watch the sky either, we just don’t have fame to blame it on. Maybe waiting is the only thing that makes anyone actually look.
He asks Qing Tian what time they will arrive. Qing Tian repeats what Chang Yang said.
Before dark.
Qing Lang replies, “How am I supposed to know what time it gets dark?”
In Episode 15, early one morning, Chang Yang quietly asks Qing Lang if he wants to visit the market in the countryside.
Qing Lang keeps his eyes closed. He barely manages to ask, “What time is it?”
Chang Yang says, “It’s light out.”
Qing Lang replies, “How am I supposed to know what time it gets light?”
I keep imagining that for someone as famous as Qing Lang, time rarely comes from the sky outside his window. Maybe he seldom sees the sun rise or set. Maybe his days are arranged for him, hour by hour.
What he needs is not “before dark” or “after daybreak.”
He needs a number. An exact time.
That is the part that hurts.
Chang Yang’s return had no number. No date anyone could promise. Only waiting, stretching beyond sight.
Chang Yang’s father had been sentenced to life. But Qing Lang was not serving a sentence. Nobody told him how many years he would have to wait. The waiting had no shape to it at all.
Then, in the end, Chang Yang came home.
And through all those years, we never see bitterness in Qing Lang. No resentment.
He loves Chang Yang that deeply.
James usually has that roguish kind of charm, but drunk James turns adorable. He asks Ken for his LINE ID because he wants to send him stickers, and then he really does send one cute sticker after another. He even squishes Ken’s cheeks and starts calling him Mochi.
Cold, empty-eyed Ken somehow turns possessive. A woman approaches drunk James, and Ken turns her down for him before James can say anything. Then Ken, who’s at least two hundred years old, scoops him up bridal style. The boyfriend energy was ridiculous.
And then those kisses. Maybe eight years of modeling explains why Boss looks so comfortable in front of the camera. It doesn’t explain how a first-time actor kisses like that.
Could one of the officers please peel that long strip of red tape off the floor? There’s no point in keeping it there. They’ve both crossed the line.