The Chinese historical drama A Love Never Lost (人生若如初见) has been getting a lot of attention on Chinese social media since it made its surprise premiere on iQiyi on May 13.

By now, one of the main hashtags about the drama on Weibo has already exceeded 2.2 billion views. Meanwhile, large billboards featuring posters from the show have appeared from Chongqing to Beijing.

To say that A Love Never Lost has been a much-anticipated drama is somewhat of an understatement. The drama, directed by Wang Wei (王伟) and written by the acclaimed Jiang Qitao (江奇涛), was already filmed in 2020 and was actually set to air in July of 2022. Fans have been waiting for five years to watch the major production with its powerhouse cast.

On the day of its originally scheduled premiere in 2022, July 18, Hunan TV unexpectedly aired Minning Town (山海情) instead — a drama about Ningxia villagers lifting themselves out of poverty by building a new settlement on the edge of the Gobi Desert. Closely aligned with the Party’s poverty alleviation goals, it was apparently seen as a safer bet for broadcast.

What caused A Love Never Lost to be removed from the schedule just two hours before its planned airing? Although no official reason was ever given for the cancellation, it was rumored that the show suddenly got a red light and needed last-minute regulatory reviews.

According to the Dian & Ying blog (电和影) at the time, the historical drama likely still faced “approval problems” (审核问题) — possibly due to the sensitive nature of the historical events it depicts.

The series is set in the late Qing dynasty, in the aftermath of the Boxer Rebellion (1899–1900) — a violent anti-foreign, anti-Christian uprising that took place during the final years of the Qing Dynasty and led to large-scale massacres of Christians and foreign residents in China. The rebellion officially ended in 1901 with the signing of the Boxer Protocol (辛丑条约), generally seen as a “treaty of humiliation” (“辱国条约”). In the wake of these events, China — weakened and with several major cities under foreign occupation — entered a period of economic hardship and political instability.

TV drama posters featuring Liang Xiang, Yang Kaizhi, and Li Renjun.

A Love Never Lost follows the story of Chinese youth Liang Xiang (梁乡, played by Li Xian 李现), a descendant of the Qing imperial family; Yang Kaizhi (杨凯之, by Wei Daxuan 魏大勋), a revolutionary from a humble background; and Li Renjun (李任军 by Zhou You 周游), a member of the Beiyang Right Guard Army — three young men who are among the first Chinese students to study at a military academy in Japan, where they end up sharing a dorm.

On their journey there, they meet Wu Tianbai (吴天白 – Zhu Yilong 朱一龙) and Xie Shuhong (谢菽红 – Jessie Li 春夏), the determined daughter of a wealthy publishing family from Anhui.

Main protagonists of A Love Never Lost.

The lives of these five — who were, quite literally, on the same boat — begin to intertwine from that moment on, their personal journeys becoming inseparable from the fate of the Chinese nation during a turbulent chapter at the end of imperial rule.

For this drama, which explores a historical turning point through personal stories, the production team consulted late Qing historian Jia Yinghua (贾英华).

On Chinese social media, the series is praised as a strong drama with compelling characters full of emotional depth, even though they may not all be likeable – Liang Xiang, whose character represents the late Qing aristocracy, acts entitled and smiles after he forces himself onto Xie Shuhong.

On Xiaohongshu, the role of women in the series is especially discussed. Besides forced marriage customs in the late Qing, the role of Xie Shuhong is seen as one where the woman – and the way she is treated by the men around her – is also a metaphor for the decline and rise of the Chinese nation. Many viewers feel frustrated with just how powerless women were in those days.

Beyond the characters and the history they reflect, the show’s costumes, set design, and attention to historical details have also earned praise from viewers.

Despite its positive reception, the censorship that followed its canceled 2022 premiere is also a recurring topic of discussion. A significant number of scenes or moments have allegedly been cut, though it remains unclear whether this was due to historical sensitivities or intimacy-related content. Netizens feel some scenes don’t make sense, or that the development of certain characters, like Wu Tianbai, is confusing or incoherent due to the cuts that were made.

Many also question why some seemingly minor adjustments were made, and mourn the loss of what appears to be a substantial amount of original footage.

“It’s painful to see a project into which so many people poured their good faith, wisdom, sweat, and even money, end up being shown to the public in such a fragmented way,” one fan wrote on Weibo.

You can watch the series on iQiyi or YouTube (afaik no English subtitles yet).

By Manya Koetse

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PREMIUM CONTENT

Closely intertwined with the Chinese social media landscape and the fast-paced online entertainment scene, micro dramas have emerged as an immensely popular way to enjoy dramas in bite-sized portions. With their short-format style, these dramas have become big business, leading Chinese production studios to compete and rush to create the next ‘mini’ hit.

In February of this year, Chinese social media started flooding with various hashtags highlighting the huge commercial success of ‘online micro-short dramas’ (wǎngluò wēiduǎnjù 网络微短剧), also referred to as ‘micro drama’ or ‘short dramas’ (微短剧).

Stories ranged from “Micro drama screenwriters making over 100k yuan [$13.8k] monthly” to “Hengdian building earning 2.8 million yuan [$387.8k] rent from micro dramas within six months” and “Couple earns over 400 million [$55 million] in a month by making short dramas,” all reinforcing the same message: micro dramas mean big profits. (Respectively #短剧爆款编剧月入可超10万元#, #横店一栋楼半年靠短剧租金收入280万元#, #一对夫妇做短剧每月进账4亿多#.)

Micro dramas, taking China by storm and also gaining traction overseas, are basically super short streaming series, with each episode usually lasting no more than two minutes.

 
From Horizontal to Vertical
 

Online short dramas are closely tied to Chinese social media and have been around for about a decade, initially appearing on platforms like Youku and Tudou. However, the genre didn’t explode in popularity until 2020.

That year, China’s State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television (SARFT) introduced a “fast registration and filing module for online micro dramas” to their “Key Online Film and Television Drama Information Filing System.” Online dramas or films can only be broadcast after obtaining an “online filing number.”

Chinese streaming giants such as iQiyi, Tencent, and Youku then began releasing 10-15 minute horizontal short dramas in late 2020. Despite their shorter length and faster pace, they actually weren’t much different from regular TV dramas.

Soon after, short video social platforms like Douyin (TikTok) and Kuaishou joined the trend, launching their own short dramas with episodes only lasting around 3 minutes each.

Of course, Douyin wouldn’t miss out on this trend and actively contributed to boosting the genre. To better suit its interface, Douyin converted horizontal-screen dramas into vertical ones (竖屏短剧).

Then, in 2021, the so-called mini-program (小程序) short dramas emerged, condensing each episode to 1-2 minutes, often spanning over 100 episodes.

These short dramas are advertised on platforms like Douyin, and when users click, they are directed to mini-programs where they need to pay for further viewing. Besides direct payment revenue, micro dramas may also bring in revenue from advertising.

 
‘Losers’ Striking Back
 

You might wonder what could possibly unfold in a TV drama lasting just two minutes per episode.

The Chinese cultural media outlet ‘Hedgehog Society’ (刺猬公社) collected data from nearly 6,000 short dramas and generated a word cloud based on their content keywords.

In works targeted at female audiences, the most common words revolve around (romantic) relationships, such as “madam” (夫人) and “CEO” (总裁). Unlike Chinese internet novels from over a decade ago, which often depicted perfect love and luxurious lifestyles, these short dramas offer a different perspective on married life and self-discovery.

According to Hedgehog Society’s data, the frequency of the term “divorce” (离婚) in short dramas is ten times higher than “married” (结婚) or “newlyweds” (新婚). Many of these dramas focus on how the female protagonist builds a better life after divorce and successfully stands up to her ex-husband or to those who once underestimated her — both physically and emotionally.

One of the wordclouds by 刺猬公社.

In male-oriented short dramas, the pursuit of power is a common theme, with phrases like “the strongest in history” (史上最强) and “war god” (战神) frequently mentioned. Another surprising theme is “matrilocal son” (赘婿), the son-in-law who lives with his wife’s family. In China, this term is derogatory, particularly referring to husbands with lower economic income and social status than their wives, which is considered embarrassing in traditional Chinese views. However, in these short dramas, the matrilocal son will employ various methods to earn the respect of his wife’s family and achieve significant success.

Although storylines differ, a recurring theme in these short dramas is protagonists wanting to turn their lives around. This desire for transformation is portrayed from various perspectives, whether it’s from the viewpoint of a wealthy, elite individual or from those with lower social status, such as divorced single women or matrilocal son-in-laws. This “feel-good” sentiment appears to resonate with many Chinese viewers.

Cultural influencer Lu Xuyu (@卢旭宁) quoted from a forum on short dramas, explaining the types of short dramas that are popular: Men seek success and admiration, and want to be pursued by beautiful women. Women seek romantic love or are still hoping the men around them finally wake up. One netizen commented more bluntly: “They are all about the counterattack of the losers (屌丝逆袭).”

The word used here is “diaosi,” a term used by Chinese netizens for many years to describe themselves as losers in a self-deprecating way to cope with the hardships of a competitive life, in which it has become increasingly difficult for Chinese youths to climb the social ladder.

 
Addicted to Micro Drama
 

By early 2024, the viewership of China’s micro dramas had soared to 120 million monthly active users, with the genre particularly resonating with lower-income individuals and the elderly in lower-tier markets.

However, short dramas also enjoy widespread popularity among many young people. According to data cited by Bilibili creator Caoxiaoling (@曹小灵比比叨), 64.9% of the audience falls within the 15-29 age group.

For these young viewers, short dramas offer rapid plot twists, meme-worthy dialogues, condensing the content of several episodes of a long drama into just one minute—stripping away everything except the pure “feel-good” sentiment, which seems rare in the contemporary online media environment. Micro dramas have become the ultimate ‘guilty pleasure.’

Various micro dramas, image by Sicomedia.

Even the renowned Chinese actress Ning Jing (@宁静) admitted to being hooked on short dramas. She confessed that while initially feeling “scammed” by the poor production and acting, she became increasingly addicted as she continued watching.

It’s easy to get hooked. Despite criticisms of low quality or shallowness, micro dramas are easy to digest, featuring clear storylines and characters. They don’t demand night-long binge sessions or investment in complex storylines. Instead, people can quickly watch multiple episodes while waiting for their bus or during a short break, satisfying their daily drama fix without investing too much time.

 
Chasing the gold rush
 

During the recent Spring Festival holiday, the Chinese box office didn’t witness significant growth compared to previous years. In the meantime, the micro drama “I Went Back to the 80s and Became a Stepmother” (我在八零年代当后妈), shot in just 10 days with a post-production cost of 80,000 yuan ($11,000), achieved a single-day revenue exceeding 2 million yuan ($277k). It’s about a college girl who time-travels back to the 1980s, reluctantly getting married to a divorced pig farm owner with kids, but unexpectedly falling in love.

Despite its simple production and clichéd plot, micro dramas like this are drawing in millions of viewers. The producer earned over 100 million yuan ($13 million) from this drama and another short one.

“I Went Back to the 80s and Became a Stepmother” (我在八零年代当后妈).

The popularity of short dramas, along with these significant profits, has attracted many people to join the short drama industry. According to some industry insiders, a short drama production team often involves hundreds or even thousands of contributors who help in writing scripts. These contributors include college students, unemployed individuals, and online writers — seemingly anyone can participate.

By now, Hengdian World Studios, the largest film and television shooting base in China, is already packed with crews filming short dramas. With many production teams facing a shortage of extras, reports have surfaced indicating significant increases in salaries, with retired civil workers even being enlisted as actors.

Despite the overwhelming success of some short dramas like “I Went Back to the 80s and Became a Stepmother,” it is not easy to replicate their formula. The screenwriter of the time-travel drama, Mi Meng (@咪蒙的微故事), is a renowned online writer who is very familiar with how to use online strategies to draw in more viewers. For many average creators, their short drama production journey is much more difficult and less fruitful.

But with low costs and potentially high returns, even if only one out of a hundred productions succeeds, it could be sufficient to recover the expenses of the others. This high-stakes, cutthroat competition poses a significant challenge for smaller players in the micro drama industry – although they actually fueled the genre’s growth.

As more scriptwriters and short dramas flood the market, leading to content becoming increasingly similar, the chances of making profits are likely to decrease. Many short drama platforms have yet to start generating net profits.

This situation has sparked concerns among netizens and critics regarding the future of short dramas. Given the genre’s success and intense competition, a transformation seems inevitable: only the shortest dramas that cater to the largest audiences will survive.

In the meantime, however, netizens are enjoying the hugely wide selection of micro dramas still available to them. One Weibo blogger, Renmin University Professor Ma Liang (@学者马亮), writes: “I spent some time researching short videos and watched quite a few. I must admit, once you start, you just can’t stop. ”

By Ruixin Zhang, edited with further input by Manya Koetse

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