*~💎Patty ~*

Yida: “Old people food consists of anti-inflammatory diets. Young people food includes…noodles, little fried meats.” 🐱: “Not much of a difference~” Yida: “There’s a Beijing dialect test. How do you say ‘xihongshi chaojidan’ (tomato stir-fried with egg) in Beijing dialect?” (Beijingers tend to say ‘xihongshi’ slurred) 🐱: “The key part is ‘CHAO JI DAN’ chao ji dan, chao ji dan, xihongshi chao ji dan.” *drops food into Yida’s bowl* 🐱“Tastes good.” Yida: “Is it chives (filling)?” 🐱: “Cilantro.” Yida: “It tastes like meat when you eat it.” 🐱: “Would anyone watch a makeup artist do an eating broadcast?” Yida: “Nope.” #HouMinghao

Title: “Marveling at how sensible the approach to love in #KeytothePhoenixHeart is. Two genuinely normal people in a chaotic world, a rare and precious thing” “I can’t believe there’s actually a drama that manages to keep two characters from ever intruding into each other’s unfamiliar territory, allowing each to shine brilliantly in their own respective careers. The fl doesn’t know martial arts and can’t fight wars, so from beginning to end, she never once sets foot on the ml’s fishing ground (the battlefield). Instead, she’s a genius inventor, and the only time the ml proactively gets involved with her profession is in the early episodes, when he pays her for her blueprints and commissions her to make weapons. (It’s literally just a business transaction involving money and power between the two) The drama never forces the fl, who knows nothing about military affairs, onto the battlefield just to give her more screen time or some supposedly impressive moment. Her moments to shine come from her craftsmanship. When written well, she’s the ultimate support player. Nor does the ml interfere in her career. Aside from the case involving his own soldiers at the beginning, which he helps resolve and restore her reputation as a master craftswoman, he never gets involved in her work again. Her identity and business as Miaoshou remain entirely her own. Although there aren’t that many conventional romantic moments between them, every time they overcome a crisis and resolve one little subplot, just when you think they’ll finally sit down and have a proper romantic moment, they start having what I can only describe as a full-on strategy meeting. For example, after they use political maneuvering at court to reclaim the Princess’s Phoenix Heart Token, which also effectively makes the male lead’s identity as the Crown Prince semi-public, the two sit down and immediately start talking— ml: Don’t let all this make you lose your courage, blah blah blah fl: I understand now. I’ll walk the same path as you and help you, blah blah blah The two spend five minutes analyzing the current political situation, then another five minutes offering strategies and making plans for the country’s future development. And then? Guess what? They go their separate ways!! These two career-driven people each go back to doing their own thing: one runs around implementing political reforms, while the other goes off searching for mineral deposits and researching fire caltrops. And just like that, they’re separated for three whole years. Do you understand what three years means?! Three years earlier, the male lead was told he might have another three to five years to live. Three years later, when the female lead returns, he’s practically worn himself out from shouldering all his responsibilities. Seriously, what other historical romance drama would dare to pull something like this in its later stages? At a time when the prevailing attitude toward costume romance dramas seems to be that all they need to do is make the CP look good together, someone is still willing to give me this kind of thoughtfully crafted, high-quality storytelling. All I can say, sincerely, is—Thank you! At a time when the way romantic couples are written and portrayed in today’s idol dramas has been making me increasingly uncomfortable, I want to thank the screenwriter of Kttph for giving me something that begins with the word ‘respect.’ Respect is the very first principle of their love story. The two characters’ story spans only about five years from beginning to end, and three of those years are spent apart. Yet they’re the most comfortable couple I’ve ever watched. Perhaps it’s because they shine brilliantly in their own respective careers without ever taking over each other’s moments to shine. They’re both independent, complete individuals who understand each other, cherish each other, walk the same path, and ultimately share the same destination. Neither ever tries to change the other according to their own wishes. Instead, there’s respect and understanding. (I know that might sound like a rather restrained, almost formal, mutually respectful relationship, but it’s really not like that at all! It’s SO good!)”