Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 1-2 » Dramabeans MGG

Our Blooming Youth: Episodes 1-2

by alathe

He’s a traumatized prince, haunted by a ghostly letter. She’s a resourceful fugitive desperate to prove she didn’t murder her family. Two people, equally injured, are about to throw salt in each other’s wounds. This lively drama packs a whole lot of punch — all the while, leaving no Joseon trope unturned!

 

EPISODES 1-2 WEECAP

We open on a prince beset by woes. CROWN PRINCE LEE HWAN (Park Hyung-shik) owes his title to his older brother, who died under deeply suspicious circumstances. (Poisoned by a peach? What a way to go.) In a court that’ll scorn you at the first hint of disability, Hwan is troubled by an arm injury from a poisoned arrow. Worse, he’s got a very promotable brother waiting in the wings — and, inevitably, a vicious RIGHT STATE COUNCILOR JO WON-BO (Jung Woong-in) bent on enthroning said sibling. After all, that’s his niece’s son.

Right State Councilor Jo launches an attack within the first ten minutes of the show, which has to merit at least a bronze medal at the Scheming Joseon Courtier Olympics. Hwan, he insists, must prove that his arm is still in working order… or else, abdicate. The KING (Lee Jong-hyuk) is swayed. A high-stakes royal hunt is arranged.

This rampant backstabbery is enough to drive anyone to distraction. And indeed, Hwan’s notorious for being surly, arrogant, and paranoid. Still, he’s got good reason: for three years, he’s been haunted by a mysterious letter, seemingly sent by a ghost. Hwan, it prophesied, may have murdered his brother, but he will never be king. Instead, he’ll be betrayed, deposed, and driven mad. And, moreover, despite his limbs remaining attached to his body, he’ll lose all use of them. Haunting stuff — especially for a guy whose leadership credentials are being scrutinized for lack of functional fingers.

Further disaster strikes when Hwan’s best friend HAN SUNG-ON (Yoon Jong-seok) gets word of his fiancée, daughter of the Governor of Gaeseong. Her entire family has been murdered. Mother, father, and brother all went sputtering spectacularly to their deaths, choking on blood and arsenic. And, according to the man who was her supposed lover, she’s the one to blame. None of this squares with the famously gentle MIN JAE-YI (Jeon So-ni) that Sung-on knows. The worst she’s ever done was cheat him out of a couple of coins as a kid. Still, with his father ordering him to keep his head down, there’s little he can do besides brood.

Enter our heroine! And boy, what an entrance. It begins as a relatively standard race through the woods, dodging the soldiers in pursuit, before — of course — falling flat on her face. But, Jae-yi isn’t as hapless as she seems. Bloodstained and gasping, she uses a jury-rigged slingshot to send a guy sprawling. Pilfering his sword, she swings into action, making a stand on the good old Joseon Cliff of Doom. It’s a deft take on a tropey situation: sure, our heroine’s scrapping with ten soldiers at once, but she’s panting and panicking all the while. Generic action girl she is not! When a well-aimed arrow grazes her arm, she’s sent toppling off the ledge.

Many a protagonist has weathered a bracing dip in the waters beneath, and Jae-yi’s endurance is something to behold. After all, she has a mission to fulfill. Minutes before his demise, her father, MIN HO-SEUNG, revealed a secret: his former student, Prince Hwan, sent him a letter. And so, wringing out her hair and steeling her resolve, she prepares to enter the palace — dressed as a man.

But first — a long-awaited reunion. A slave from Jae-yi’s household, JANG GA-RAM (Pyo Ye-jin) has been tirelessly seeking news of her mistress-turned-outlaw. When Ga-ram encounters Jae-yi, now bound up in men’s garb, the tears flow thick and fast — and the two embrace like sisters. Though, also… like a wealthy noblewoman and her indentured servant. The show presents the women’s adoration of one another as uncomplicated, but the social gulf is chilling. Ga-ram and her brother consider Jae-yi’s family to be kind because they freed their father from his slave contract — at the age of sixty.

Still, Ga-ram’s love for Jae-yi is unswerving: having found her again, she’s determined to stay by her side. Jae-yi promised, after all, that they’d always be together. But Jae-yi, equally insistent on keeping Ga-ram out of danger, holds her sworn sister at knife-point in the hopes she’ll convince her to stay. Jae-yi will return. She promises. And so, amid passionate protest, it’s decided: donning a soldier’s hat, Jae-yi will join a royal troop — alone.

The day of the hunt dawns. By a fluke of fortune, Jae-yi’s troop is sent to supervise. It wasn’t quite the plan, but if she plays her cards right, it’ll give her the chance to approach the prince. Hwan, for his part, is bearing up adequately under the strain of his injured arm — not to mention his letter-induced PTSD. Still, he’s the crown prince. Adequate isn’t an option. Dismounting, he runs on ahead in search of new game. Jae-yi, sensing opportunity, springs into pursuit.

In a silent forest clearing, Hwan comes face to face with Sung-on. His bow is aimed directly at him. Their eyes meet. All Hwan can remember is the ghostly letter, and its promise of betrayal. But at the last second, Sung-on pivots back, releasing the arrow — to catch a bird flying just above Hwan’s head. Moments later, another arrow comes spinning towards Hwan. Acting fast, Sung-on shoves him to safety.

Hwan and Sung-on cast about for the hidden shooter. Jae-yi, whose knack for finding herself in the wrong place mid-murder plot is truly unparalleled, elects to scarper… only to trip over the assassin’s discarded bow. She soon finds herself blinking up at the business end of Hwan’s sword. Hastily, she blurts out that she’s here because of a secret letter that Hwan himself sent her father… Min Ho-seung. Hwan, who actually is capable of basic math, realizes who this must be. Not Ho-seung’s dead son. His outlaw daughter. The trouble is, Hwan claims never to have sent a letter.

There’s no time to unpack that. Hwan soon has other concerns. Apparently, killing half the animals in the surrounding area was insufficient proof of fitness. Now, he’s given water to clean his hands, tossed a pen, and all but ordered to write a celebratory message. He manages the first characters confidently. However, he falters altogether when blood drips onto the page — from no visible injury. As far as omens go, this one is pretty bad press.

Jae-yi, meanwhile, is frantic at the thought of being recognized by her nearby ex-fiance. Once upon a time, she and Ga-ram mooned over his portrait. Now? She can’t bear to cause him more grief. She’s saved — in a manner of speaking — by a brusque wrist-grab from a paranoid prince. As prime suspect for murder, more murder, attempted murder, and messing with the prince’s public letter-writing spectacle, she’s earned a one-way ticket to a palace backroom, trussed up to await interrogation. Of course, given that ten armed men and a short plummet off a deadly cliff barely managed to stall her, a few lengths of rope aren’t enough to hold our heroine. With minimal wiggling and a hidden dagger, she slices her way free.

This proves awkward when Hwan and his bodyguard TAE GANG (Heo Won-seo) walk in on her mid-escape. She and her knife are tragically parted, though in retaliation, Gang suffers a bite and a kick somewhere very painful. Wounded in service, he departs, leaving Jae-yi to make her case to Hwan. She doesn’t know why she was framed. However, she knows it has something to do with what Hwan wrote to her father: that he was haunted by a curse from a ghost. Hwan reacts violently, slamming Jae-yi to the wall. All he can do is plead, through tears, that he did not kill his brother.

It turns out, Hwan did indeed write a letter to Ho-seung. In fact, he wrote several — all crumpled and discarded. Still, he is adamant he never sent anything. Jae-yi, however, is relentless: she’s seen it. Why? Hwan must have heard that her brother was famous for solving mysteries throughout Gaeseong County. This was a lie. The famous detective of Gaeseong was not her brother. It was her. Moreover, she’ll prove it. That blood that dripped from Hwan’s pen? All trickery. When Hwan washed his hands, the water must have contained alum. It reacted with the wood of the pen, producing red liquid: a common trick used by shamans. There is no such thing, she assures him, as ghosts. Just people — and their penchant for deceit.

Across town, Ga-ram hears that Jae-yi was sent to the royal hunt. That cinches it. She’s going after her. Thus, she takes a deep breath — and dons her brother’s clothing. By now, we’ve reached nigh-Shakespearean levels of cross-dressing convolutions! She makes a beeline for the residence of KIM MYUNG-JIN (Lee Tae-sun), a Joseon gentleman detective whose eccentricities — and expert autopsies — are notorious. It takes her all of about five minutes to talk her way into becoming his pupil, and approximately five seconds to regret it. Too late. For better or worse, she’s gained a very enthusiastic teacher.

In her first day as student, Ga-ram learns three things. One: Myung-jin is beloved throughout the community for his ointments, medications, and cheery goodwill. Two: he is also considered an outright lunatic. And three: he is hopelessly in love with Min Jae-yi. Apparently, despite the pains Jae-yi took to hide her reputation as an investigator, someone’s been paying attention.

If only Hwan cared as much. The next time he sees Jae-yi, it is to tell her that she’s free to go. Not out of mercy — but indifference. Her presence is too risky for him. She must prove her innocence on her own. Jae-yi, with fervor for which I will forever adore her, replies in one word: bastard. Hwan, she declares, passionately, will never be a good king. He’s virtually condemning her to execution. Her rant gains momentum: What else could she expect, as a woman? Since when have women been permitted anything? Told to try? To dream?

Her father trusted Hwan — he thought he’d make a just ruler. She’d clung to that same faith. But her family died because of him, and he won’t lift a finger to aid her. And so now? She won’t go quietly. Instead, she stalks past him to pound on the door, yelling for the guards. She’s a criminal! But, heed this: the crown prince once received a letter from a ghost —

Hwan launches towards her, forcing a hand against her mouth. The two eye each other. One crying. One desperate.

Folks, I like where this one is going! Jeon So-ni is fully on form for this: she approached these first two episodes determined to take no prisoners. There’s such nuance to Jae-yi’s desperation, such layered grief. It can be grating when Joseon dramas put anachronistic — and predictable — comments about Joseon sexism in their protagonist’s mouths. That’s not what this is. Jae-yi’s final speech felt believable and full of power. She’s a phenomenal heroine. Resourceful and brave, yes, but for me, it’s the little, human things that make me like her. It’s the way we see her struggle, and fight to catch her breath, and cry when things are unfair. I can’t wait to see how she and Hwan will develop together, especially as Hwan is forced to share the fears that kept him isolated.

Make no mistake — this drama is tropey in the extreme. That’s not a bad thing! I love scheming councilors, paranoid royals, murder plots, and clifftop fights. Still, I think the drama needs room to expand and figure out what makes it unique; at times, it feels a little too derivative. Another issue is that, so far, I reckon our female characters outshine their male counterparts. I already adore Jae-yi and Ga-ram, especially in their scenes together; I could use a little more from Hwan and Sung-on. Nonetheless, with twenty episodes in which to breathe, there’s plenty of room for growth. Bring on next week — I’m feeling optimistic!

 
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