About Love (2026) Chinese Drama Review | Plot & Ending

Details RATING: (7.5/10) NATIVE TITLE: 玫瑰丛生 – Méiguī cóngshēng YEAR: 2026 EPISODES: 26 DURATION: 40’ DIRECTOR: Yang Lei SCREENWRITER: Yuan Yuan ORIGINAL CREATOR: Gong Yuanqian (蝉女 - Cicada Girl)

About Love is a story that offers no certainties, but rather seems to dismantle them one by one, leaving the viewer with a lingering sense of doubt, uneasiness, and, at the same time, familiarity. Watching it, one repeatedly finds oneself questioning not so much what happens on screen as how those dynamics resonate with real-life experiences, making it impossible to maintain emotional distance from the characters and their experiences.

In this review of the drama About Love, I would like to not only analyze the series' narrative and stylistic construction, but also explore how this story manages to portray, with at times disarming sincerity, the contradictions and fragilities that define how each of us experiences — or interprets — love.

"Love is an unexplainable fate: cherish everything when you have it; let go with grace when it fades."

Plot

Li Xiao Xi is a woman whose magnetic charm has always attracted men, especially those already in a relationship. For this very reason, she decides to become a relationship tester, helping other women unmask their partners' cheating tendencies.

This secret occupation, however, threatens to become a problem when she meets Xiao Bei: a solid, loyal, and level-headed man who piques her interest from the first moment. Xiao Bei also immediately shows a weakness for her, and the two begin dating, but their respective romantic pasts, far from happy, seem unwilling to leave them alone and constantly undermine their mutual trust.

Further complicating the situation are some of Xiao Xi's resentful "victims" and the intricate love stories of Xiao Bei's friends. Among them is Lao Gong — one of the men Xiao Xi once tested — who has never forgotten her and, after meeting her again with his friend, finds himself still deeply in love with her.

Between tests of loyalty, secrets slowly resurfacing from the past, and doubts creeping into the present, Xiao Xi and Xiao Bei's love story intertwines with those of his four friends, giving rise to a tale in which feelings are often complex and difficult to decipher, and in which the fear of losing the other often ends up pushing people towards unexpected and potentially destructive choices.

About Love Drama Review (No Spoilers)

Plot and Screenplay

About Love is one of those dramas that doesn't simply tell a story, but rather seems to lead you into a familiar yet difficult-to-define emotional territory. The plot is striking precisely for its disarming approach to love: it avoids moralism, offers no answers, but instead observes with an almost unexpected naiveté all those questions that inevitably surface when entering a relationship—the doubts and insecurities we all share, but for which no one truly has a universal solution.

The story also surprised me in another way: initially, I expected an overtly "feminist" series, the kind in which women stand together and support each other, while men remain in the background as antagonists who are all too easy to detest. About Love instead chooses a much more ambiguous direction, in some ways more uncomfortable, but in others more realistic. Relationships between men and women are narrated without bias and without offering stable moral ground: even when a clear position seems to emerge, it is immediately challenged by doubts, contradictions, and second thoughts. The result is an emotional landscape in which neither sex is truly innocent or guilty, and in which even relationships between women are fraught with rivalries, insecurities, and questionable choices. This is a perspective I found very interesting, because it forgoes any form of narrative consolation and forces us to confront a much more unstable, and therefore more resonant, vision of love.

Compared to the manhua, one senses a greater writing effort aimed at making the reflection on love more layered and subtle. The screenplay seems to abandon the more direct and almost didactic approach of the events narrated in the comic book to guide the viewer through the psychological and philosophical reasons behind the causes of romantic failure. This choice slows the pace, but it's a dense, physiological slowness that allows the viewer to truly immerse themselves in the protagonist's thoughts and follow, almost in real time, her evolution, including her relational dynamics.

This apparent expansion—most noticeable in the central episodes—never leads to boredom: on the contrary, the narrative surprises with a series of increasingly unexpected twists that, especially towards the end, keep the tension high and push the viewer to continue watching with an almost feverish sense of anticipation, fueling the desire to discover the story's epilogue.

Characters

The dynamics between the characters elude the most common romantic drama clichés: they are neither idealized nor overtly toxic, but profoundly human. Here, people make mistakes, hesitate, hurt, and are hurt, without the narrative feeling the need to absolve or condemn them, and for this very reason, the story conveys a sense of authenticity.

What's truly striking is how incomplete the characters appear, marked by emotional fragilities that profoundly influence their way of experiencing relationships. Each seems to balance desire and fear, between the need to bond with someone and the instinct to defend themselves, giving rise to relationships that are often contradictory but undoubtedly realistic.

In this context, even the antagonistic figures take on a unique role: they exist, but never claim true narrative centrality, limiting themselves to generating friction around the main couple. Despite having their own backstories, they remain functional to the larger narrative, which is to tell the characters' different ways of experiencing love. Their attempt to thwart the central relationship thus appears to be a natural extension of their personal understanding of relationships, making them less strictly "antagonistic" and more the expression of an alternative, and often more selfish, vision of emotion.

What emerges is a mosaic of fragilities that are difficult to pigeonhole, yet precisely for this reason, believable. In this intertwining, the individual stories almost end up mattering more than the main story, which appears more like a narrative pretext than the true emotional center of the tale, leaving room for a broader and more layered reflection on love and its flaws.

Cast

Making About Love even more engaging is undoubtedly a cast that effortlessly conveys the emotional nuances of this intertwining of relationships, giving the impression of truly witnessing the lives of a group of people bound—for better or worse—by their own emotional ups and downs.

Liu Yu Ning once again proves himself perfectly suited to the role, but here he also displays something more: a deeper emotional complexity than usual, made even more impactful by the fact that the character carries with him a difficult past that, in part, echoes that of the actor himself.

Wang Zi Wen manages to move effortlessly between ambiguity and fragility, crafting a character that is both fascinating and deeply marked by the past, without ever slipping into caricature.

The real surprise, at least for me, was Gao Wei Guang: finally seeing him in a lighter, more spontaneous, almost carefree role, far from the somewhat solemn rigidity that had characterized many of his previous performances (such as in The Company or Eternal Love of Dreams), was almost liberating, and shows that he is a much more versatile actor than he is often allowed to show.

They are surrounded by a solid and credible supporting cast: Gu Jia Cheng works well as the immature musician, Jiang Xin effectively conveys the determination of a self-made woman no longer able to tolerate her husband's indecisiveness, while Vivienne Tien brings to life a disillusioned and almost cynical character who finds a chance for rebirth in an unexpected love.

Completing the picture are Ming Dao, convincing in the measured and reassuring role of the thoughtful psychologist, and Huan Can Can, who returns to embody — with a certain familiarity after Lost You Forever and Are You the One — the annoying and destabilizing rival in love.

The only slightly off note, at least in my eyes, remains Zhu Xu Dan, who I continue to find more at ease in light and charming roles (as in A Dream Within a Dream), while here he seems unable to fully sustain the emotional weight of his character.

Visual Aspects and Soundtrack

Aesthetically, About Love manages to surprise precisely because it breaks away from the classic image of an urban romance. The direction — by the same director as Swords into Plowshares — stands out for its extreme care and unconventional framing: each scene, despite taking place within everyday settings, is rendered with an artistic and evocative nuance that rarely slips into banality.

What's truly striking, however, is the way the director interrupts the linearity of the narrative to insert truly symbolic, almost theatrical sequences, in which the characters move in abstract, stage-like spaces—such as in the remote trial between A'Xiu and Yu, or in the portrayal of the fine line between friendship and love, or in the film in which Xiao Bei and Xiao Xi discuss their position towards A'Xiu and Yu. In those moments, rather than witnessing a drama scene, it's like participating in the protagonists' reasoning, as if their emotions were being played out before us with a visual awareness that borders on meta-narrative. It's a strong stylistic choice, almost alienating at times—a sort of moving graphic novel or, seen from another perspective, a small hallucinogenic trip—but it's also what gives the drama its distinctive stylistic signature.

Added to this is a selection of locations that are anything but predictable: even the most ordinary spaces, like homes or bars, are characterized by a refined aesthetic that contributes to a suspended, almost literary atmosphere. The use of lighting, both in positioning and tone, and the framing between scenes work together to maintain the viewer's attention and contribute to their ongoing involvement.

Finally, the costumes and hairstyles are surprisingly refined and perfectly suited to the characters: Xiao Bei, Lao Gong, A'Xiu, Ying Tao, and the protagonist herself all find a visual rendering that not only defines them, but also tells their story, making their personalities even more immediately understandable.

The soundtrack significantly contributes to the drama's atmosphere, creating a perfect balance between melancholy and passion: the tracks alternate slow, reflective tones with more intense, romantic moments, while maintaining a decidedly modern feel. Their placement within the narrative is largely consistent and effectively accompanies the different emotional nuances—from the intimacy of the love scenes to the loneliness of the more painful ones—without ever being invasive.

The only choice that left me a little perplexed was the use of a very similar arrangement for two songs that aim to convey quite different feelings: on the one hand, Secret of Love, which I found particularly incisive and memorable, and on the other, 愛不是真 (Love is Not Real), which, instead, emphasizes melancholic tones in both the lyrics and melody and ends up being less engaging. If the intent was to offer two variations on the same emotional theme, the result didn't seem entirely successful, as it tends to emphasize the differences to the detriment of the second, which is therefore less impactful.

A sense of dissonance also emerges in the recurring use of Argentine tango music in suspenseful or mysterious scenes: while on the one hand, it helps make the atmosphere more intriguing and identifiable, on the other, it risks verging on cliché, insisting on an overused soundscape.

About Love Drama Review (Spoilers)

What Works

The Screenplay

The screenplay for About Love immediately strikes you with its discreet sophistication: the dialogue is intense, well-balanced, and never sounds artificial, as if it emerges spontaneously from authentic emotional situations. There's evident care in the way the characters' psyches are explored, especially through the female protagonist's internal monologues, which insinuate themselves into the narrative like unfiltered thoughts, filled with doubts, fears, and questions. These are reflections that never seek to teach anything, but end up resonating precisely because they're so relatable: those subtle, insistent questions that everyone, sooner or later, asks themselves when in a relationship.

The heart of the drama lies there, in this constant questioning of love, which unfolds through seemingly simple conversations that are capable of touching raw nerves, calling into question behaviors and feelings.

Like Lao Gong's assertion that no one loves selflessly and that many, even within a relationship, still love themselves above all else: according to him, when we choose to be with someone, we do so for the comfort or joy the other person can offer, and, as naively as we tend to call it love, that feeling is often nothing more than the result of a silent weighing of pros and cons. This interpretation resonates with that of the taxi driver in episode 4, who, when asked by Luan Luan whether being together only out of necessity isn't pathetic, replies: "Doesn't being together ultimately mean needing each other?"

These are reflections that the drama lets sink in without forcing conclusions, juxtaposing them with more idealized moments that almost seem to contradict them, such as when love is imagined as an isolated space, impervious to external judgment. This conclusion emerges from the dialogue between Lao Gong and Xiao Bei in episode 10, in which the latter states that "as long as you're in love, no matter what the other person's past is, you'll always be able to accept it one way or another" and that "being in love is like being on a desert island where other people's opinions don't matter."

And the screenplay doesn't stop there, because shortly thereafter it seems to push toward an even more absolute vision of feelings, when in episode 11 Luan Luan tells Xiao Xi that "love can't be forced. Just as you can't decide not to love someone, you can't force anyone to love you"—a truth that the story itself ultimately challenges, showing how, in reality, it's not always feelings that keep people together, but rather self-interest or a sense of duty.

It is precisely in this constant oscillation between lucidity and idealization, between profoundly true intuitions and simplifications that don't entirely stand up to the test of facts, that the screenplay finds its most authentic strength, leaving the viewer with the far from simple task of finding his way among these contradictions.

The Characters

I confess that at first I expected a completely different kind of story. I imagined a drama that was overtly "feminist" in the most predictable sense of the word: women standing together, united against cruel and mean men, reduced to mere antagonists. About Love, however, surprises because it takes that expectation and dismantles it with a clarity that is at times almost uncomfortable.

Li Xiao Xi, who initially appears to move with an almost ostentatious confidence — fueled by the belief that she's always right and a rather harsh judgment of men — slowly begins to question her actions when that same system of certainties turns against her: Xiao Bei's merciless judgment of Jiang Yi Fan and her chance encounters with some of the men she's tested in the past, including Lao Gong, force her to look at her work in a less self-absolving light, to the point of revealing a very real fear of losing what she thought she could manage.

Not only that: Xiao Xi's character is initially almost difficult to justify. Not so much because she's willing to test other women's boyfriends with her beauty, but because of the way she does it, pushing herself to the limit every time to achieve the desired result. She works hard to persuade the man in front of her, even going so far as to impersonate someone else—as in the case of Lao Gong: she models herself on the fragilities of her "victim" and shows a studied interest in the other, trying to touch their deepest emotional chords. In this sense, Xiao Bei's reading of her in episode 3 is surprisingly clear: her goal, from the beginning, wasn't simply to "test" Lao Gong, but to make him fall in love with her, because only in this way could she definitively prove her betrayal, banishing any doubts—from others' minds and her own—that she hadn't been seductive enough or that she hadn't done her job properly. But right here a crack opens up that's hard to ignore: rather than unmasking an unfaithful man, she ends up creating the conditions for betrayal herself, embodying an ideal version that perhaps wouldn't have had the same appeal if she'd maintained her true personality, and pushing the other person more toward a breakup than toward actual betrayal.

What makes the picture even more interesting is that this ambiguity runs through all the female characters: Yu He, despite having obtained proof of Lao Gong's betrayal, remains emotionally entangled in a bond she can never definitively sever; Luan Luan knowingly accepts a position that hurts her rather than risk losing A'Xiu; Guan Jie shifts from mentor to manipulator, revealing her vindictive side the moment Li Xiao Xi announces she has fallen in love; and Yu, initially determined to expose her husband, ends up retracting her words and trying to save a frayed marriage, dragging the others into their chaos in the hope of restoring order to an unsolvable situation.

In this plot, the dynamics between the women often become anything but supportive: jealousy, rivalry, and a certain harshness emerge unfiltered, with an almost disarming naturalness. There's no idealization, no exemplary sisterhood to applaud—just a series of questionable, often contradictory choices that create vibrant, yet deeply flawed, characters.

And it's precisely here that the drama finds its most scathing honesty: in the refusal to offer characters to be supported unreservedly, forcing the viewer to confront an emotional reality far less comfortable than expected, as if the series' ultimate message were that love—or perhaps the fear of losing it—pushes everyone, without distinction, toward questionable choices.

This is how the drama manages to create deeply human characters, yet with a strong symbolic component: each of the main characters seems to embody a different emotional wound and, above all, a peculiar—and often imperfect—way of being in a relationship. Xiao Xi constantly walks the line of distrust, marked by a betrayal that taught her to protect herself rather than to let go; Xiao Bei almost represents her opposite, someone who has overcome fragility to the point of transforming it into armor, going so far as to keep everything inside so as not to hurt others.

Around them moves an equally fragile microcosm: there's Lao Gong, who, behind an apparent lightheartedness, hides a desperate need to be seen and loved for who he truly is; there's Da Sen, who constantly stumbles over his own insecurities, learning with difficulty that love isn't always stable and reassuring; there's A'Xiu, who lives in constant fear of not being enough and, to gain approval, tries to become someone else, and his wife Yu, who, conversely, stubbornly defends her romantic choices rather than admit she's built something on the wrong foundation.

And then there are those figures who oscillate between abandonment and fear: Luan Luan who idealizes love but shuns commitment for fear of reliving her parents' failure, Ming Ming who remains clinging to an adolescent love that can never reciprocate her to the extent she desires, and An Miu who is willing to do anything to gain the attention of the person she desires.

What Doesn't Work: the Repetitiveness of Some Couple Dynamics

If there's one element I found unsuccessful, if not downright annoying, it's the way certain dynamics are dragged out more than necessary, particularly the triangle between A'Xiu, his wife, and Luan Luan.

In this case, the feeling is that the conflict stops truly evolving at a certain point and instead begins to spiral inward: A'Xiu appears incapable of taking a clear position, as if she can never fully understand what she wants or what direction to take her marriage, ending up being guided more by a sense of duty—or perhaps guilt—than by true emotional awareness.

Similarly, his wife also seems trapped in a form of obstinacy that has little to do with the marriage and everything to do with a refusal to admit she was wrong from the beginning, clinging to a now-weary feeling rather than acknowledging that certain incompatibilities were evident all along. The result is a constant push and pull that, over time, loses its naturalness and gives the impression of being driven more by narrative necessity than by any real internal coherence.

A similar feeling emerges, at times, in the stories of the main couple: the obstacles separating them, though often justified by external interference, end up piling up almost excessively, giving the impression that the difficulties follow one another more by design than by necessity, to the point of spontaneously raising the question: is it possible that everything really happens to them?

Ending

The epilogue of About Love treads a somewhat ambiguous path, oscillating between predictability and small deviations that attempt to reshuffle expectations. On the one hand, the main ending follows a logical and all-too-familiar path: reconciliation through the classic heartfelt declaration of love, made even more emphatic by the almost heroic gesture of the ML, who sets out in search of the FL and undertakes a grueling mountain climb to reach the woman he loves — a narrative choice that works, while remaining firmly anchored to the genre's more traditional codes. The ML's final confrontation with his romantic rival, who decides to take one last chance, also follows the same path: an equally classic dynamic, one that manages to temper the melancholy of the final episodes and suspend, at least for a moment, the illusion that everything can still change.

More convincing, and somehow consistent with the emotional journey built up to that point, is the choice not to let Da Sen back down, a character who has always insisted on his feelings, until finally obtaining an affirmative response to his marriage proposal from Ming Ming despite the difficulties that have overwhelmed them — a resolution that may seem predictable, but here feels earned.

The only detail that left me a little perplexed was the unexpected conclusion of the narrative line between A'Xiu and Luna Luan: her sudden refusal to retrace her steps, after a journey in which even the mere idea of ​​a definitive separation seemed impossible, was a turning point that surprised me greatly. Their breakup, in fact, comes abruptly, as if a moment of disillusionment was enough to overturn a stubborn and deeply rooted belief. And the fact that the story immediately suggests a possible new sentimental direction for Luan Luan, through a barely hinted encounter, helps make this choice even more irrevocable, leaving the viewer torn between disbelief and satisfaction.

Characters and Cast

Primary Characters

Li Xiao Xi/Xiao Xi/Jiang Yi Fan/Chen Qing (Wang Zi Wen) owner of the Cool flower shop and the Capricorn Café, and a member of the Wild and Proud Rose women's club. Since college, she's made it her personal mission to help women whose partners have betrayed her and, to this end, she becomes a relationship tester at Guan Jie's club. Her certainties about men, however, begin to waver when she falls for the trustworthy Xiao Bei, who expresses disparaging comments about her alter ego Jiang Yi Fan, forcing her to question all her previous actions. The situation becomes even more complicated when she reunites with Lao Gong, one of the men she tested, whom she discovers is Xiao Bei's friend and still in love with her, and when Guan Jie tries to ruin her romantic idyll.

Bei Qi Yuan/Xiao Bei (Liu Yu Ning) owner and authenticator of the Zhen Guan shop. After his previous relationship with his business partner ended due to the failure of their business, he decided to leave everything behind and go to England to study luxury handbag appraisal. Once back in China, he opened his own appraisal shop, hoping to leave everything behind, but he discovered he had never completely forgotten his ex. A chance encounter with Li Xiao Xi gives him the chance to start over, but the ghosts of the past continue to threaten their relationship.

Gong Yuan Qian/Lao Gong (Gao Wei Guang) Xiao Bei's childhood friend. He is a somewhat dreamy cartoonist who meets Li Xiao Xi during a test his girlfriend arranges for him and falls madly in love with her. For years, he waits to find his Jiang Yi Fan, and when he sees her with his friend Xiao Bei, he is upset and resentful. Eventually, however, he reconciles with her and becomes her accomplice and closest confidant.

Xiu Luo Dian/A'Xiu (Gu Jia Cheng), longtime friend of Xiao Bei, is a singer-songwriter and the owner of the musical instrument shop Xiuluo. He has been married for years to Yu, an ambitious woman with whom he was initially madly in love, but the difficulties of their marriage have gradually turned into his worst enemy. For this reason, he often seeks the company of Luan Luan, an actress he met on the stage, who helps him advance his musical career without asking for anything in return. He thinks he can exploit this situation endlessly, but the situation comes to a head when his wife discovers his extramarital affairs and forces him to make a choice.

Yu/Xiao Yu (Rulu Jiang) A'Xiu's wife. She is a tenacious and ambitious woman who, after getting married, does everything to make her marriage work and make ends meet despite her husband's meager income. However, the daily difficulties and pressure from her family wear her down, and when she discovers her husband's extramarital affairs, she collapses, unsure whether to give him another chance or divorce him.

Da Sen (Zhu Jia Qi) Xiao Bei's longtime friend. He has been in love with Ming Ming, a girl he met on the train, for years, but she doesn't want to have anything to do with him because she's still infatuated with her ex. After a ruthless courtship lasting seven years, he manages to get together with her, but the fear of losing her often makes him act impulsively, risking ruining everything. Only his presence in her time of need makes Ming Ming realize that he is a man she can count on and worth spending the rest of her life with.

Ming Ming (Vivienne Tien) girl Da Sen has a crush on. She's been in love with him since they were at A Lun's school, but due to his frivolous nature, their relationship has had its ups and downs, and they've broken up several times. However, she can't forget him until one day she discovers he's married: at that point, she leaves him and throws herself into Da Sen's arms. Their relationship, however, isn't all roses and arguments are frequent, but in the end, the two manage to find common ground and decide to get married.

Supporting Characters

Ying Tao/Tao Tao (Yang Xing) Li Xiao Xi's best friend, she is the only one who knows about her secret profession. She is outspoken and spontaneous, so much so that she openly confronts her husband when he discovers he is cheating on her with another woman. After their divorce, her relatives pressure her to date other men and introduce her to the young Ze Yan, who initially doesn't particularly impress her, but over time manages to win her trust and affection.

Lao Bai (Meng Zhao Zhong) Ying Tao's ex-husband. He has always been unfaithful, so much so that he tried to seduce Li Xiao Xi during their first meeting, but his boldness leads to the end of his marriage after his wife discovers him in bed with another woman.

Ze Yan (Ding Jia Wen) Ying Tao's boyfriend, at her aunt's insistence, after her divorce. He is a naive and sentimental young man who is immediately fascinated by Ying Tao's strong and determined personality and does everything to win her over.

Guan Jie (Gong Bei Bi), owner of the Wild and Proud Rose women's club, is the one who encouraged Li Xiao Xi to become a relationship tester. In reality, however, she harbors resentment toward the girl for unknowingly inciting her breakup with her husband.

Cheng Yu (Han Dong), university professor and Guan Jie's ex-husband. He was her partner for twenty years, but his wife's egocentricity and ambition were stifling him, so much so that he took advantage of Li Xiao Xi's presence to fake an affair and leave Guan Jie.

Yi Fu Luan/Luan Luan (Huang Zi Qi), Xiao Bei's friend. She is an actress who Lao Gong and A'Xiu met by chance at the theater and later became the latter's inseparable writing partner. Her pure and idealized conception of love pushes her to stay by A'Xiu's side even though he is already married, in an attempt to instill courage in him and encourage him to pursue his dreams. Eventually, however, she realizes that self-confidence is something that cannot be transmitted, and decides to leave him and focus on her career.

Lu Hao, actor and colleague of Luan Luan, tries to take advantage of her after the premiere of her play "Delusion Girl." A'Xiu overhears the story of the incident at the bar, and only then does he realize he made a huge mistake in rejecting Luan Luan's phone call that evening.

Yu He (Una You), Lao Gong's ex-girlfriend, who turns to Li Xiao Xi to test her boyfriend, hoping to finally catch him in the act with another woman. Unexpectedly, however, Lao Gong becomes really infatuated with Xiao Xi, so much so that he decides to leave her, but she, despite a new relationship, cannot forget him.

A Lun (Zhou Da Wei) director of Junziyang Photography Studio and Ming Ming's ex-boyfriend. They met in school and their relationship continued on and off for some time until she decided to leave him. Once reunited, they started dating again, but Ming Ming discovered he was married and pregnant and left him for good to get together with Da Sen.

Hui Zhi/Xiao Hui (Cai Xiang Yu) A Lun's wife. After discovering that her husband is still in love with Ming Ming, she decides to take revenge by publishing compromising photos he had taken of her some time ago, forcing her to close the photography studio she had worked so hard to build and causing a heated argument between him and Da Sen that nearly cost the life of her unborn child.

Da Hua (Shi An) Yu's childhood friend. He has been in love with her for years, so much so that he often offered his help to her parents, but she has always seen him only as a friend.

Zhen (Zhu Xu Dan) Xiao Bei's ex-girlfriend. Due to financial problems with their business, she asked her friend Lin Chen for a loan, sparking her boyfriend's jealousy. After this, she decided to break up with Xiao Bei, but in reality, she hoped he would apologize and ask her back. Despite her best efforts, Xiao Bei remained firm, ending up with Li Xiao Xi, thwarting any possibility of reconciliation between them.

Lin Chen (Ming Dao) psychologist, owner of the Lin Chen Psychological Counseling Center, and a friend of Zhen's. He has always been in love with her, but has never taken it too far out of respect for his feelings for Xiao Bei. Once Guan Jie finds out, he tries to use him to sow discord between Xiao Bei and Xiao Xi.

An Miu (Huang Can Can) Xiao Bei's friend and secretly in love with him. Her boyfriend was Xiao Bei's roommate when he was in England studying luxury handbag appraisal, and she fell madly in love with him but never told him. After returning to China, she tried to reconnect with him, but his engagement to Xiao Xi caught her off guard, fueling her jealousy.

Du Mian (Cai Zhen Jie) An Miu's ex-boyfriend, whom she dumps after falling in love with Xiao Bei.

Xiao Wei (Xu Xiao Nuo) Li Xiao Xi's college roommate who, thanks to her friend, discovers her boyfriend's cheating streak.

Zhou Xiao Long (Li Hao Fei) Xiao Wei's boyfriend. He is the first man in a relationship to have hit on Xiao Xi, the one who inspired her to become a relationship tester.

Favorite Character: Lao Gong

At first glance, he appears fickle, carefree, always ready to flirt and not take anything too seriously, but it is precisely this mask that protects a more fragile sensitivity, which finds expression especially in his drawings and manhua, places where he can express what in real life he prefers to keep hidden so as not to appear vulnerable.

He is a sincere friend, present since childhood at Xiao Bei's side, who has tried as best he could to ease the burden of his mother's abandonment weighing on his friend, transforming his own way of being into a form of silent support. Yet, beneath that sunny energy, there remains the mark of a childhood marked by his parents' constant arguments, which made him wary of marriage and any overly defined bond, despite family expectations pushing him in the opposite direction.

The only person who truly breaks this resistance is Jiang Yi Fan, capable of reaching him precisely where he is most exposed, in his art and in his never-fully-expressed need to be understood and loved for who he is. The fact that that connection was built on fiction plunged him back into a more bitter reality, but his subsequent reconciliation with the real Li Xiao Xi allowed him to glimpse something even more authentic in her, fueling a feeling he already knew was destined to remain unfulfilled.

Confronting his own romantic past also forced him to look more clearly at himself: understanding how much his behavior hurt Yu He leads him to refuse to go back, not only for fear of making another mistake, but also to avoid finding himself trapped in a relationship he felt was suffocating.

In the end, despite his loyalty to Xiao Bei and his awareness of the limitations of the situation, he can't completely back down: he still chooses to fight for Xiao Xi, even knowing he's probably already lost from the start.

And perhaps it's precisely in this fragile, disillusioned stubbornness that we find the most authentic side of her seemingly light-hearted character, which, however, hides an emotional depth that emerges only in the most painful situations.

Un-Favorite Character: Guan Jie

She's a character deliberately left in the shadows, but precisely for this reason, she ends up leaving an impression that's more dark than fascinating.

The little that emerges about her — especially through her husband's story — reflects the image of a woman who, over time, has transformed her hard-won successes into a shell of pride, ambition, and growing selfishness. It's as if, in her attempt to assert herself, she has gradually lost the ability to relate to others authentically, replacing emotions with control, and feelings with an obsession with appearances. It's not surprising, then, that her husband, once sincerely in love with her, has reached a breaking point, unable to tolerate the suffocating dynamic any longer, to the point of indirectly using Xiao Xi to free himself from a marriage that has become too burdensome.

Even her involvement in the world of dating "tests" appears anything but altruistic: rather than helping other women, she seems to find in this role a way to exert power, to feel superior, almost omnipotent in judging and exposing the weaknesses of others.

This becomes clear when, after being dumped precisely because of one of her own plans, she reacts not with self-criticism, but with cold and calculated resentment toward Xiao Xi, guilty only of having been, in turn, an unwitting tool in her husband's hands. From that moment, her behavior takes on the characteristics of patient and meticulous revenge: she waits, observes, and when Xiao Xi truly falls in love, she seizes the opportunity to strike her at her most vulnerable, orchestrating a manipulation that aims not only to hurt, but to replicate the same pain she has suffered.

The fact that, in the end, she chooses to abandon this spiral of vengeance and make peace with her past isn't enough to completely redeem her image: she remains an ambiguous figure, marked by an emotional clarity that easily turns into coldness, and by a need for control that ends up corroding every bond.

Of all, she is perhaps one of the most difficult characters to justify, precisely because her actions reveal a denial of her own fragility and a conscious desire to hurt.