Recently, the status and public popularity of Chinese dramas in the Korean content market have been soaring at an extraordinary pace. In the past, it was true that they were mostly consumed and gained popularity only among a specific fan base known as "C-drama enthusiasts," centered around domestic OTT platforms like TVING and Wavve. Recently, however, Chinese dramas have begun landing in earnest on Netflix, which boasts massive capital and excellent accessibility. They are now proudly placing their names at the top of the "Today's Top 10 in South Korea" series rankings, rapidly emerging as mainstream content. This phenomenon goes beyond mere curiosity or a temporary trend; it is an intriguing cultural phenomenon signifying that the uniquely fresh and pure sensibility of Chinese dramas has successfully aligned with the universal tastes of Korean viewers.
Personally, the genres of Chinese dramas I have watched so far have mostly been heavily skewed toward youth romance, boasting a fresh and sweet atmosphere. With countless new works pouring out dazzlingly day after day, to be honest, I have not easily encountered a work that completely surpasses the overwhelming heart-fluttering excitement and deep lingering resonance provided by Hidden Love or Lighter & Princess, which still firmly hold their places as unwavering masterpieces in my heart. Of course, since the volume of Chinese dramas I have been exposed to is not remarkably vast, this might just be highly personal and limited viewing data. However, I could definitely and clearly feel that Chinese romance dramas possess their own unique and distinct characteristics, carrying a texture quite different from the bouncy youth dramas typical of Taiwan.
The most distinct and universal characteristic of Chinese romance dramas is that the total number of episodes is usually scheduled to be significantly longer than Korean dramas, causing the narrative development and the emotional shifts between characters to flow at a much slower, more meticulous pace. While various supporting roles and diverse surrounding characters appear to branch out the story and breathe vitality into the play, the proportion of the male and female leads driving the entire show is so overwhelming that you practically face their expressions in almost every single scene. Furthermore, just as the Korean drama market frequently attempts stylish visual adaptations using popular webtoons or trendy web novels as main original sources, Chinese dramas also mostly adapt famous romance novels that have already been read by countless readers and proven their box-office potential. This carries the positive implication that visual adaptations are primarily focused on works that have successfully passed the rigorous verification of the public, possessing a solidly constructed narrative framework.
In fact, rather than television dramas with very long breaths, I have relatively enjoyed watching Chinese films, which deliver highly dense messages and visual catharsis within a shorter timeframe. In general, unlike TV romance dramas chasing fluffy and romantic fantasies, Chinese commercial films boast a much deeper cinematic weight in terms of artistic value, strongly bearing the attributes of realism that nakedly reveal the tough, chilling reality of modern Chinese society. Among those numerous films, the heavy masterpiece that continuously made my heart ache and surprised me the most while watching was Us and Them. Seeing its incredibly delicate depiction of the severe poverty of youth hidden behind glamorous economic growth, crossed loves, and the massive wall of bitter reality, I remember receiving a fresh and colossal shock from the fact that such a lyrical and magnificent work that digs deep into the heart is being produced in China as well.
This film was widely recognized for its uniquely vague sensibility and outstanding cinematic completeness, being successfully remade in Korea and turning on a green light at the box office. The female lead, Zhou Dongyu, who left an irreplaceable, deep impression in the original film, has frequently appeared in various highly artistic masterpiece films screened in domestic theaters based on her unrivaled acting skills. Thus, she has firmly established herself as a highly familiar, widely exposed, and trusted actress to Korean audiences. On the other hand, the male lead, Jing Boran, who perfectly acted out the heartbreakingly crossed paths of youth alongside her, has been exceptionally hard to find in other works imported to Korea despite that powerful first impression, leaving a deep sense of regret every time.
Then, while watching the romance drama Will Love in Spring (Zhao Chun Qing Lang), which recently became available on Netflix, my gaze was immediately captured by the oddly familiar and deep aura of the male lead on the screen. His face was incredibly familiar and welcoming, but I couldn't immediately remember where I had seen him, so I urgently searched for the cast information. Upon realizing that he was none other than Jing Boran, the male lead of Us and Them whom I had watched with such deep emotion and tears, I felt a massive, internal wave of gladness. His appearance in this drama was effortlessly dominating the entire screen, exuding a mature and unique charm with a significantly different grain from the typical styles of male leads who regularly appear in conventional Chinese youth romance shows.
Usually, the male leads who perfectly satisfy the fantasies of female viewers in Chinese romance dramas predominantly feature the so-called "flower boy" style, characterized by unrealistically tall heights and extremely delicate, pretty facial features. However, Jing Boran possesses a distinct and attractive point of differentiation in that, rather than such trendy and fragile prettiness, he has bold facial features heavily steeped in a masculine charm. His uniquely manly mask, which looks somewhat rugged yet earnest, serves as an excellent and sharp weapon that calmly suppresses the potentially light tone of a romantic comedy while simultaneously breathing in a strange sense of reality and weight.
The drama Will Love in Spring, in which he stars, is a well-made work with a solid narrative framework based on a famous Chinese web novel whose title translates to Girls Don't Cry. As can be immediately guessed from the sturdy meaning implied by the original title, this drama unfolds excitingly with its central axis focused on the struggling life, love, and fierce workplace coming-of-age story of the bold and spirited female protagonist 'Sangzhitao', delicately and vibrantly played by Sun Qian. In particular, the viewing point that felt personally the most unfamiliar yet intriguing while watching this drama was the fact that the spatial background of the work is set in none other than China's massive capital, Beijing. This presented a quite different aspect from how Korean romance dramas almost formulaically use a glamorous and sophisticated Seoul as their main stage, and how countless American pop content pieces dazzlingly illuminate the skyscrapers of New York.
Despite enthusiastically consuming numerous Chinese dramas in the past, it was exceptionally difficult to find contemporary works set in Beijing. This even led me to harbor a somewhat absurd and secret curiosity: could it be that the Chinese government strictly controls or censors the use of the bare face of the capital, Beijing, as a drama filming location? However, considering the vast and diverse nature of China's territory, I realized it was simply a natural result reflecting the reality where young people do not necessarily tie themselves to Beijing but scatter to various global economic hubs like Shanghai or Guangzhou to fiercely seek employment. Regardless, vividly observing the diverse sceneries of the massive downtown Beijing and the sweat-scented daily lives of office workers beyond the screen through Will Love in Spring—which had been hard to easily encounter on screen before—generously provided another highly rewarding entertainment outside of the narrative itself.
The full-scale narrative of the drama begins to gain earnest vitality when Sangzhitao, who traveled to the massive city of Beijing to fiercely knock on the doors of employment after overcoming the tough reality in the provinces, joins a respectable and sophisticated marketing company. The character 'Ruan Nian' (played by Jing Boran), who appears as her boss, is depicted as an extraordinary figure with a somewhat self-made capability, achieving massive results and cruising to success with excellent planning skills for every project he touches. While Chinese romance shows are often rampant with clichéd tropes where the male lead parachutes in as a second-generation chaebol overflowing with inherited wealth or the son of the CEO, Ruan Nian, at least up to the episodes I have watched, demonstrated a somewhat fresh, deep, and differentiated charm by proving his skills from the very bottom solely through his outstanding ability and bone-crushing effort.
The capable and cold boss Ruan Nian maximizes the show's heart-fluttering index by adhering to an attractive "tsundere" style, pretending to be indifferent and cold on the outside while silently taking care of Sangzhitao in trouble behind the scenes. Even though the two clearly realize their subtle affection and deep attraction toward each other from the early stages, they undergo a painful process of affectionately and precariously crossing paths when Sangzhitao temporarily moves to another team due to complex internal company dynamics or her desire for personal growth. Although the emotional lines unfold at the somewhat slow and calm tempo unique to Chinese romance, this earnest and sorrowful crossing of paths strongly evokes the vague nostalgia and classic romance of traditional 1990s Korean melodramas, which seems to be drawing an explosive response from the global public. Having demonstrated formidable power by ranking up to 2nd place in Netflix's global non-English category, I will definitely have to binge-watch the remaining episodes to the very end with an intrigued and thrilled heart to see how their crossed love will ultimately bear solid fruit.
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