By Lakshana N Palat
“You thought that lady at the airport was my girlfriend?”It’s one of the most memorable scenes in Hidden Love. Sang Zhi, who has long harbored a crush on her older brother’s friend Duan Jiaxu, realises a major misunderstanding from her childhood—she had once assumed he had a girlfriend. Cut to the present: as they sit together at the airport, with very obvious feelings, Jiaxu casually clears up the confusion with a single question, his amused smile revealing what he now knows for sure, Sang Zhi is in love with him.Not another word is said in this scene; it’s Jiaxu’s little gesture of covering his face with a smile, and Sang Zhi’s mental flailing that somehow makes this moment distinctly wholesome and refreshing than even a love confession. And, Hidden Love is a little pearl string of these touching moments. It’s not difficult to see why the show is discussed two years after its release, because it spins gold from a rather formulaic, straightforward story. .Why did First Frost change the male lead and rewrite his character from Hidden Love?.It’s a simple setting: Sang Zhi has had a crush on him since she was a child—and he looked after her like a younger sister. After a mistaken realisation, she begins her college in the same city that he lives in, and the two begin a friendship of dinners and lunches, which later, gradually blossoms into a romance. On the surface, you’ve heard it all before, but that’s where Hidden Love flips the script with each episode. Jiaxu is one of the most well-written male characters in Chinese dramas: He doesn’t just stop at being a ‘green flag’—that is too simplistic a description for him. He has his demons, a rather broken, and tortured past that doesn’t quite leave him. He doesn’t complain or let the resentment corrode him, instead, he turns rather suppressed, immersing himself into work, lives a quiet lonely life and prefers it that way. He doesn’t brood, yet he is whimsical and finds himself returning to scarring memories, often. There is an unusual complexity about Jiaxu that almost feels grounding and real—you can believe a person like him exists. He isn’t perfect; he has his issues—but he’s also a calming and comforting presence to those who know him, and he has a snark to match..Next to him, is feisty Sang Zhi, who tries her best to appear proud and unrelenting, hoping that he doesn’t know about her childhood crush. But neither does her past heartbreak turn her bitter either—when it comes to protecting Duan Jiaxu, she doesn’t back down, and if it means throwing a glass of water in a tormentor’s face, then so be it. Zhao Lusi does a stunning job of showing the innocence of a childhood crush that falls into complicated, more serious realms of feelings as she grows older—the nervousness surrounding romance, and finally easing into it, slowly. The story is gentle, soft throughout—and even if it doesn’t have the heaviness of First Frost—it’s spiritual prequel-sequel that showed two people healing each other’s scars and trauma—it’s still quietly profound with its layered subtexts without ever being too much on the nose. The romance is not drawn out, and neither are there forced breakups and misunderstandings—there’s just learning, unlearning, and the quiet affirmation of love, as well as self-love. At the end of the story, an emotional Jiaxu tells Sang Zhi, that he now knows that is capable of being loved—he is worthy.It is these confessions littered through the show just make Hidden Love so watchable. It is brimming with an unusual freshness, fun—aven when you think you know where it’s headed, the show reminds you: real love—like good storytelling—is in the details.