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Hi, I am Gillian, an Australian, living and working in the Midlands of the UK. I have always been hooked on fantasy genres, and have been writing my own short stories since I was a teen. My discovery of the entire Chinese family of fantasy genres, including Wuxia, Xianxia, and Xuanhuan has led me to create this site. I hope you enjoy exploring this world as much as I do!

Should you watch this? Absolutely. But be prepared— “Is The Journey of Chong Zi a toxic romance” analysis explores whether its love story is a tragic fate or an emotionally toxic cycle. The plot is thrilling, the stakes are high, and the world is beautifully crafted. But if you’re allergic to glaring plot holes, inconsistent character motivations, and xianxia romance that raises ethical concerns, then buckle up—this one’s a ride.
This xianxia Chinese fantasy c-drama was based on a book, which I have not read. My critique is based on the drama, not the book.
Plot Synopsis: “The Journey of Chong Zi” is set in a world where immortals and demons coexist, and fate plays a cruel game with the lives of its characters. At the heart of the story is Chong Zi, a kind and innocent girl burdened with an evil miasma that marks her as a future demon. Her life takes a pivotal turn when she becomes the sole disciple of Luo Yinfan, a powerful and compassionate immortal who vows to protect her from her dark destiny.
This is a story as much about relationships as anything else. Chong Zi’s fate is driven and impacted by these relationships. Let’s start with the romantic relationships.
I find the master-disciple relationship in this story a bit hard to swallow. Luo Yinfan is possibly thousands of years old, while each incarnation of Chong Zi is around 18 each time she meets him. She is cute, sweet, innocent, etc, and I could understand him having a paternal affection for her, but romantic love? It is rather creepy.
It is more understandable in stories such as The Longest Promise, where both main characters were also age appropriate. I’ll be honest – I really wanted Chong Zi to look at Zhuo Hao, with at least a bit of kindness, because from the get go, he was honest with his intentions, and genuinely cared about her. There wasn’t any ambivalence about his feelings for her. Qin Ke wasn’t entirely believable as another potential admirer – I would have found a brotherly affection towards our heroine more believable in this story.
The relationships that Chong Zi has with her three potential “lovers”—Luo Yinfan, Zhuo Hao, and Qin Ke—are central to the emotional and narrative development of The Journey of Chong Zi. Each relationship is marked by different dynamics, reflecting various aspects of love, power, and emotional connection. Let’s examine and compare these relationships.
Emotional Fulfillment vs. Emotional Turmoil:
In this The Journey of Chong Zi analysis, Chong Zi’s relationship with Luo Yinfan
raises critical questions: Is this a toxic romance or tragic fate? His inconsistent behavior and the stark power imbalance between them make it difficult to view their love as healthy or redemptive. Zhuo Hao, on the other hand, offers emotional stability and honesty, though his love remains unrequited. Qin Ke falls somewhere in between, offering a mix of brotherly affection and conflicted romantic feelings, but ultimately leaving both himself and Chong Zi unfulfilled.
Power Dynamics and Control:
The power dynamic is most pronounced in Chong Zi’s relationship with Luo Yinfan, where he holds significant authority over her. In contrast, her relationship with Zhuo Hao is more balanced, marked by mutual respect despite the lack of romantic reciprocation. Qin Ke’s relationship with Chong Zi involves a different kind of power struggle, one within himself as he tries to reconcile his feelings with his duties.
Potential for True Love:
If we consider which of Chong Zi’s relationships had the most potential for true, fulfilling love, Zhuo Hao stands out due to his honesty, consistency, and genuine care. However, the presence of Luo Yinfan’s emotional influence over Chong Zi prevents this potential from being realized. Qin Ke, while a close companion, is too conflicted to offer the kind of stable love that Chong Zi needs, leaving their relationship marked by ambiguity and unfulfilled possibilities.



One of Luo Yinfan’s most significant issues is his emotional inconsistency. He oscillates between warmth and detachment, creating an unstable environment for Chong Zi. As an immortal who has lived for eons, one would expect wisdom and emotional maturity, yet his behavior is more akin to someone struggling with indecision and insecurity.
This inconsistency manifests in his reluctance to fully commit to either protecting Chong Zi or guiding her away from her cursed fate. At times, he displays care and concern, yet just as quickly, he becomes distant or indifferent when her fate threatens to lead her down a dark path. This lack of reliability undermines her trust in him, furthering her isolation and making his role as her so-called protector questionable at best.
Luo Yinfan persistently fails to communicate crucial information to Chong Zi. Rather than explaining the dangers she faces, her cursed fate, or his own struggles, he leaves her in the dark, forcing her to navigate complex and perilous situations on her own.
This failure exacerbates her feelings of fear and alienation. As her master, Luo Yinfan should prepare her for the challenges ahead, yet he consistently withholds essential knowledge. His silence and avoidance only fuel misunderstandings and conflict, contributing directly to her tragic trajectory.
Despite his promises, Luo Yinfan repeatedly fails to protect Chong Zi—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Rather than shielding her from the sects’ prejudice, he allows them to mistreat and ostracize her. His inaction reinforces the idea that she is an outcast, gradually pushing her toward the very fate she wishes to escape.
One of the most glaring examples of this failure is his inability to challenge the sects’ unfair judgments. He knows she is misunderstood and unfairly targeted, yet he does little to stand against their condemnation. By failing to defend her, he passively enables her downfall.
Luo Yinfan expects Chong Zi to adhere to the rigid moral codes of the immortals without offering her the necessary support or guidance. Rather than nurturing her strengths and helping her navigate her struggles, he places undue pressure on her to conform to unattainable standards. This further isolates her, leading to deep-seated feelings of inadequacy and failure.
The master-disciple dynamic creates an inherent power imbalance. Luo Yinfan’s influence over Chong Zi is absolute, yet he does not handle this responsibility with care. She idolizes him, confusing her admiration and dependency with love, while he remains emotionally detached, often making decisions that harm rather than help her.
What makes this even more problematic is that the story tries to frame their relationship as a grand romance rather than an unhealthy attachment. Luo Yinfan holds all the power in their dynamic—physically, emotionally, and socially—yet instead of providing guidance and stability, he remains passive and uncommunicative. This leads to a romance where Chong Zi is constantly chasing his approval, while he keeps her at arm’s length, punishing her with silence and emotional withdrawal whenever her cursed fate becomes inconvenient.
His reluctance to acknowledge his own emotions leads to unspoken tensions, making their relationship a source of confusion rather than comfort. While xianxia romances often feature tragic love stories, this one lacks the depth and balance needed to make it compelling. Rather than being a love that transcends fate, it feels like a toxic cycle of abandonment and longing.
Had he been a true mentor—one who guided, communicated, and supported her—Chong Zi’s path could have been different. Instead, his failures directly contribute to her eventual fate, making him an unfit master and an even worse lover.
Luo Yinfan’s role as Chong Zi’s master and lover is defined by failure—emotional inconsistency, lack of communication, failure to protect, and unrealistic expectations. His supposed wisdom is undermined by his immature and indecisive behavior, making him an ineffective mentor and a toxic romantic figure. His repeated failures shape the tragic course of the story, highlighting the fundamental flaws in their relationship and reinforcing why his character remains one of the most frustrating elements of The Journey of Chong Zi.
While Luo Yinfan remains the primary love interest, two men—Zhuo Hao (Asher Ma) and Qin Ke (Deng Wei)—genuinely supported and protected Chong Zi. Unlike Luo Yinfan, who constantly wavered, these two men demonstrated unwavering devotion, making them far more suitable matches for her.
From the moment he meets Chong Zi, Zhuo Hao is immediately smitten. However, she doesn’t take him seriously, perhaps seeing him as playful or unserious. Yet, his love for her remains steadfast. When she dies the first time, he mourns her deeply, refusing to be pushed into marriage by his father. Unlike Luo Yinfan, whose love is riddled with emotional distance and regret, Zhuo Hao actively chooses to stand by her, even embracing demonhood for her sake. While he was initially tricked into it, once there, he commits fully, ultimately remaining in darkness rather than living a life without her.
When Chong Zi becomes a sword spirit, Zhuo Hao’s dedication does not wane. He seemingly spends his life in mourning, longing for what could have been. Unlike Luo Yinfan, who places duty and fear over love, Zhuo Hao fights for her, stands by her, and ultimately proves the depth of his devotion. In the grand climax, when he begs her to leave with him, she replies, “I wish I could”, before being forced into an eternity trapped with Luo Yinfan—solidifying the tragedy of their unfulfilled love.
Zhuo Hao expresses his feelings clearly and openly. His love is not clouded by moral dilemmas, self-inflicted anguish, or power struggles. Luo Yinfan, on the other hand, is emotionally inconsistent, leaving Chong Zi confused and heartbroken.
While Chong Zi values Zhuo Hao, she never fully reciprocates his love. Despite this, he remains by her side. Luo Yinfan, however, constantly pulls Chong Zi toward him only to push her away again, reinforcing a toxic cycle of emotional manipulation and longing.
Zhuo Hao represents the possibility of a stable, fulfilling romance—one based on trust and shared experiences. However, the presence of Luo Yinfan and the inevitability of Chong Zi’s fate prevent this from being realized, leaving their relationship trapped in the realm of unfulfilled potential.
Unlike Zhuo Hao’s instant devotion, Qin Ke’s love develops gradually. Though initially protective of her in a way that seems more brotherly, his emotions deepen over time. He is the one who sacrifices his life for her, proving that his commitment is just as intense as Zhuo Hao’s. Unfortunately, the story sidelines him, minimizing the weight of his sacrifice.
Had the drama given Qin Ke’s character more space to grow, he could have been a perfect counterbalance to Luo Yinfan’s cold detachment. Instead, his love for Chong Zi lingers in the background, making his loss feel tragically underappreciated.
Qin Ke’s initial interactions with Chong Zi resemble those of an older brother looking out for a younger sibling. He acts as her protector, offering guidance and emotional support. This makes his ultimate fate all the more devastating—he willingly sacrifices himself to save her, an act of pure, unwavering love.
Unlike Zhuo Hao, who fights for Chong Zi without hesitation, Qin Ke is torn between his duty to the immortal sects and his feelings for her. This internal conflict mirrors the broader themes of fate and free will, making him one of the more nuanced characters in her life.
Much like Zhuo Hao, Qin Ke represents a path Chong Zi never truly considers. Had the circumstances been different, he might have been her strongest ally and closest companion. However, the weight of duty and destiny prevents them from ever reaching that point, leaving their bond filled with unresolved emotions.
Chinese xianxia dramas often romanticize master-disciple relationships, emphasizing themes of devotion and destiny. However, modern audiences may struggle with the inherent power imbalance in these relationships. Zhuo Hao and Qin Ke, as age-appropriate suitors, provide a healthier, more balanced alternative to Luo Yinfan’s emotionally distant and controlling love.
Had the drama leaned into the Zhuo Hao or Qin Ke dynamic, it could have presented a more grounded and meaningful romance. Instead, the narrative pushes Chong Zi toward an unhealthy cycle of yearning and suffering with Luo Yinfan, making her eventual fate all the more frustrating.
Chong Zi’s relationships with Luo Yinfan, Zhuo Hao, and Qin Ke illustrate different facets of love—control, devotion, and sacrifice. While Luo Yinfan’s love is fraught with power imbalances and emotional ambiguity, Zhuo Hao offers a steadfast, unconditional love that remains tragically unfulfilled. Meanwhile, Qin Ke provides a quiet, selfless love, one that is barely acknowledged within the story but no less profound.
Each man represents a different possible future for Chong Zi, but fate ensures she never gets to make the choice herself. She is allowed no agency, whatsoever, in the end.
Chong Zi’s story is not just about love and fate but also about an aching desire for family and belonging. Her cursed fate isolates her, making her desperate for acceptance, warmth, and stability. This longing influences her relationships, particularly with Luo Yinfan and Wan Jie (formerly Chu Bufu).
Initially, when Luo Yinfan takes her as his disciple, she sees him as more than a mentor—he represents the father figure she never had. Her admiration and dependency blur into what she interprets as romantic affection. However, this bond is rooted more in a desire for security than in genuine romantic love. Luo Yinfan’s emotional detachment and inability to provide her with clear guidance only exacerbate her loneliness, reinforcing her yearning for a place where she is truly accepted.
The presence of Wan Jie, in stark contrast, offers Chong Zi something Luo Yinfan never does: unconditional acceptance. Despite his transformation into a demon, Wan Jie provides her with protection and emotional support without demanding that she suppress her true nature.
His barren and lifeless home might lack the beauty of Luo Yinfan’s celestial mountain, but to Chong Zi, it represents something more valuable—stability and belonging. She even refers to them as a new family unit, including herself, Wan Jie, his demon snake, and for a brief moment, his ill-fated bride. This speaks volumes about what Chong Zi truly seeks: a place where she is not constantly battling against destiny or prejudice.
Had the story allowed Chong Zi to embrace this unconventional but stable support system, she could have found happiness with Wan Jie as a father or uncle figure, rather than remaining trapped in a toxic cycle with Luo Yinfan. The tragedy is not just her eventual fate but also the fact that she never realizes this alternative path in time.
Chong Zi’s attachments to both Luo Yinfan and Wan Jie highlight the drama’s tendency to blur the lines between familial and romantic love. Chong Zi’s relationship with Luo Yinfan is, at its core, the longing of a fatherless girl seeking security, yet the story frames it as an epic love story. This confusion is common when a relationship involves a significant power imbalance—Chong Zi idolizes Luo Yinfan, and in the absence of other sources of affection, she mistakes this for love.
On the other hand, Chong Zi’s relationship with Wan Jie is refreshingly straightforward. He does not control or manipulate her emotions—he simply accepts her as she is. He is a much healthier influence, yet their relationship remains unexplored in favor of the more problematic romance with Luo Yinfan.
Had Chong Zi truly considered Wan Jie’s offer of safety and a found family, she could have broken free from the toxic patterns imposed by the immortal sects. Instead of constantly proving herself worthy of love, she would have learned that she was already enough as she was.
Wan Jie’s unwavering support contrasts Luo Yinfan’s cycle of abandonment. Had she chosen a different path, her story could have been about self-acceptance rather than endless suffering in pursuit of unattainable approval.
Chong Zi’s relationships in The Journey of Chong Zi reflect a young woman’s struggle to find a place where she belongs. While Luo Yinfan represents a toxic cycle of longing and rejection, Wan Jie symbolizes a lost opportunity for genuine acceptance and stability.
At its core, her journey is not just about love—it is about finding a home, a family, and a future free from judgment. The greatest tragedy is that she never realizes where that home truly was until it is too late.
Sima Miaoyuan’s hatred for Chong Zi is deeply rooted in jealousy and a sense of superiority. While she claims her hostility stems from Qin Ke’s preference for Chong Zi, her animosity predates any romantic entanglements, indicating a deeper insecurity or prejudice. Whether due to Chong Zi’s lower status or perceived weakness, Miaoyuan views her as an unworthy rival and takes every opportunity to undermine her.
Her meteoric rise to senior sister within three years suggests she is not only talented but also politically astute, using the sect’s structure to her advantage. However, her cruelty and disdain for Chong Zi go beyond simple rivalry. She embodies the kind of ambition that thrives in hierarchical systems—willing to trample others to secure her place. The sect’s apparent willingness to tolerate her behavior speaks volumes about its flawed internal dynamics, where skill and status often outweigh integrity.
Miaoyuan’s death, while satisfying in a poetic sense, leaves the narrative with unresolved questions. Had she survived to face scrutiny, the story could have explored a moment of true accountability, forcing her to justify her actions. Imagine her standing trial, exposed for her manipulations—a far more powerful conclusion than simply being removed from the equation. Her presence in Chong Zi’s prison cell and the circumstances of her injury were never fully examined, robbing the audience of the cathartic reckoning she deserved.
Shui Ji, disciple of the immortal healer, Zhuo Yunji, is another major player in Chong Zi’s suffering. Unlike Miaoyuan, whose malice is rooted in rivalry, Shui Ji’s hatred is purely vindictive. She not only falsely accuses Chong Zi but also later desecrates her body, removing her from her ice coffin and inflicting further harm.
Her ability to act with near impunity reflects the sects’ hypocritical justice system. Instead of upholding righteousness, they allow prejudices to dictate outcomes, protecting those they favor while condemning those they fear. Shui Ji’s involvement in Zhuo Yunji’s murder and the subsequent framing of Chong Zi is a defining moment of injustice, where lies prevail and the supposed guardians of virtue turn a blind eye.
Perhaps the most horrifying of Chong Zi’s enemies is Mang Yue, a disciple of the Cold Weather Sect. His first crime—attempting to rape Chong Zi—is never seriously punished. This failure of justice emboldens him, and when Chong Zi is later imprisoned within his sect, he takes advantage of her vulnerability, attempting to assault her again.
His eventual death is a direct consequence of his own monstrous actions, yet even in death, Chong Zi is blamed. The sect’s refusal to hold Mang Yue accountable for his crimes while condemning Chong Zi once again highlights the double standards and corruption within the immortal world. Had the sect upheld any form of true justice, Mang Yue would never have had the opportunity to seek revenge on Chong Zi in the first place.
Each of these enemies represents a different facet of corruption within the so-called righteous sects:
Through these characters, The Journey of Chong Zi paints a picture of a world where justice is selective, where the powerful manipulate the system, and where the innocent suffer for crimes they did not commit. Had any of these figures been held accountable earlier, the story could have taken an entirely different trajectory—one where Chong Zi had a chance at true redemption rather than being pushed further into darkness.
The enemies Chong Zi faces are not just individual adversaries but symptoms of a broken system. Sima Miaoyuan, Shui Ji, and Mang Yue each perpetuate the corruption and cruelty of the immortal sects, reinforcing the tragic cycle of injustice that shapes Chong Zi’s fate. While they each meet their end, their actions leave lasting scars, proving that the true villain of the story is not just one person, but the flawed system that allows such evil to thrive.
In many xianxia dramas, including The Journey of Chong Zi, immortals are equated with goodness and demons with evil. This simplistic division ignores the complexity of morality, creating a false dichotomy that the story itself frequently contradicts.
The immortal sects position themselves as upholders of justice, yet their actions often expose their hypocrisy. The treatment of Chong Zi, particularly by figures like the Sage Councillor, highlights how their righteousness is often dictated by bias and self-interest rather than true virtue. The councilor’s relentless pursuit of Chong Zi, despite a lack of evidence, exemplifies blind zealotry rather than wisdom.
Conversely, the demon characters, often labeled as evil, display loyalty, emotional depth, and at times, a stronger sense of justice than the immortals. The contrast between the two factions challenges the narrative’s black-and-white morality and forces the audience to reconsider who the true villains are.
The immortal sects are not bastions of fairness; they are deeply hierarchical institutions rife with favoritism. Figures like Min Yunzhong, the Sage Councillor, exemplify the corrupt, power-hungry elite, bending justice to suit their own purposes. His unwavering bias against Chong Zi, despite her repeated attempts to prove herself, underscores how the sects use their authority to maintain control rather than uphold virtue.
Similarly, Sima Miaoyuan’s rise to senior sister within three years, despite her cruelty, highlights how the system rewards cunning over morality. Her resentment towards Chong Zi predates any romantic rivalry, suggesting that her hatred is not about Qin Ke at all, but rather about securing her own status by crushing perceived threats.
The Sage Councillor: Hypocrisy Embodied
Min Yunzhong’s obsession with punishing Chong Zi at any cost represents the worst of moral absolutism. His eagerness to execute her, often without cause, exposes the flaw of the immortal sects’ so-called righteousness—they fear what they do not understand and seek to eliminate it rather than examine their own flaws.
Even the Third Sage, who appears more measured, fails in moments of true crisis. During the murder of Zhuo Yunji, the sects’ willingness to accept a convenient scapegoat rather than conduct a fair investigation speaks volumes about their deeply ingrained biases.
Zhuo Yao, despite being a demon lord, exhibits a remarkable level of patience and tolerance compared to the immortals. When Chong Zi attempts to leave the demon kingdom, his reaction is almost amused, rather than enraged. His sarcastic comment about being “bored with the drama” shows an emotional maturity that the immortals lack. He does not punish her or chase her down for betraying the demon realm. Instead, he lets her make her own choices—a level of free will that the so-called righteous immortals refuse to grant her.
Unlike the immortal sects, where she is endlessly accused and ostracized, the demons welcome Chong Zi with open arms. This shift suggests that the real difference between the two factions is not morality, but rather who is willing to accept those deemed “different.”
Despite being labeled as inherently evil, the demons display more emotional depth and loyalty than many of the immortals. They support each other without the rigid hierarchies that plague the sects, and their acceptance of Chong Zi stands in stark contrast to the endless suspicion she faces in the immortal realm.
The handling of the murder of Zhuo Yunji is a perfect example of the sects’ corrupt and selective justice. The real culprit manipulates events to frame Chong Zi, and yet the sects refuse to acknowledge the truth, preferring to believe what suits their biases.
Meanwhile, the disciple of the Healing Immortal, who played a significant role in Chong Zi’s suffering, goes unpunished. Her perjury, removal of Chong Zi from her ice coffin, and later torturous acts are ignored. The lack of consequences for these heinous crimes exposes the sects’ true nature—justice is not their goal, control is.
Mang Yue, a disciple of the Cold Weather Sect, attempts to rape Chong Zi, yet faces no serious consequences. Instead, he is given another chance to seek revenge, attacking her again while she is imprisoned. When he is finally killed, the blame falls on Chong Zi, rather than on the system that allowed him to act with impunity in the first place.
This failure to punish actual evil while condemning an innocent girl illustrates the deep hypocrisy within the sects—they care more about maintaining power than protecting the innocent.
The series hints at the moral failings of the immortal sects, but it never fully interrogates its tropes. The characters, particularly Luo Yinfan and the Sage Councillor, could have been given moments of self-reflection—realizing that their behaviour mirrors that of the very demons they claim to oppose.
Had the drama leaned into this complexity, it could have transformed a standard good vs. evil narrative into a profound meditation on the true nature of righteousness. Instead, the immortals remain blind to their corruption, while the demons, painted as villains, display far more humanity than their so-called righteous counterparts.
The greatest evil in The Journey of Chong Zi is not the demons, but the institutions of power that define morality for their own gain. The immortal sects, riddled with hypocrisy, favoritism, and selective justice, cause far more suffering than the demons ever do.
Chong Zi’s story ultimately highlights a broken system that punishes those who do not fit into its rigid structure, rather than seeking true balance between good and evil. Had the series fully explored these themes, it could have delivered a far more compelling narrative—one where righteousness is earned through actions, not dictated by labels.
For a story titled The Journey of Chong Zi, one might expect a tale of growth, self-discovery, and the ability to shape one’s own destiny. Instead, the narrative repeatedly denies Chong Zi any real agency. At every turn, she is pushed, manipulated, or forced into circumstances beyond her control, leaving the question—was this ever truly her journey?
Rather than navigating her own fate, Chong Zi’s life is dictated by forces more powerful than her—the immortals who fear her, the demons who welcome her, and Luo Yinfan, who remains emotionally unavailable yet inescapable. Her repeated reincarnations and doomed cycles of suffering suggest that fate is immovable, but the story never fully grapples with whether she had any chance at all to change her course.
One of the central themes in The Journey of Chong Zi is the dichotomy between good and evil, particularly as it pertains to the immortals and demons within the story. The drama initially sets up a clear moral distinction: immortals are inherently good, while demons and monsters are inherently evil. However, as the narrative unfolds, this binary opposition falls apart.
The immortals, who claim to be righteous, frequently exhibit prejudice, hypocrisy, and cruelty. Figures like Min Yunzhong, the Sage Councillor, are eager to condemn Chong Zi based on suspicion alone, despite their supposed wisdom. Meanwhile, the demons, often framed as chaotic and malevolent, display more loyalty and understanding than the immortals ever do.
This contrast suggests that true morality is determined by actions, not labels. Wan Jie, though a demon, offers unconditional acceptance, while the so-called righteous immortals abandon and betray Chong Zi at every turn. The drama flirts with the idea that morality is subjective, yet it never fully commits to deconstructing this trope.
The series frequently highlights the hypocrisy of the immortal sects and their selective application of justice. Characters like Sima Miaoyuan and Shui Ji engage in manipulation, cruelty, and outright criminal acts, yet face no real consequences. Meanwhile, Chong Zi is punished not for her actions, but for who she is.
The sects fail to properly investigate key incidents, such as the murder of Zhuo Yunji, preferring a convenient scapegoat over seeking the truth. This blind adherence to prejudiced assumptions reveals a justice system that is fundamentally broken. Rather than upholding fairness, the sects reinforce their own biases, maintaining power at the expense of actual righteousness.
Power within the immortal sects is dictated by favoritism rather than virtue. Min Yunzhong’s unwavering support of Sima Miaoyuan, despite her malice, is a prime example of this double standard. Meanwhile, Luo Yinfan’s failure to protect Chong Zi despite his supposed devotion to her is another. The power structures within the sects reward cunning over kindness, perpetuating corruption rather than fostering true enlightenment.
Even the Third Sage, who shows more restraint, ultimately fails to challenge the sect’s inherent biases. His inability to properly guide Qin Ke, a character torn between loyalty and morality, reflects the greater shortcomings of the sect’s philosophy.
Chong Zi’s identity is constantly defined by others. To the immortals, she is a dangerous curse waiting to awaken. To the demons, she is a potential ally. At no point is she allowed to define herself.
Her internal struggle—whether to resist her dark fate or embrace the only place that accepts her—is a compelling conflict, yet the narrative offers little space for her to make a choice. By the time she embraces the demon realm, it is not because she desires it, but because she has been left with no other option.
Had the drama given Chong Zi more autonomy, her transformation would have been a powerful statement about reclaiming control over her fate. Instead, she is pushed into it by the failures of those who should have protected her.
The tension between destiny and choice is a recurring theme in The Journey of Chong Zi. Her life is dictated by a fate she did not choose, and no matter how hard she fights, the cycle repeats itself.
The sects claim that fate is immutable, yet they also believe that they can prevent it through strict control and suppression. This contradiction is never fully explored, leaving the fundamental question of whether Chong Zi ever had free will unanswered.
At its core, The Journey of Chong Zi had the potential to be a profound exploration of fate, morality, and power. Instead, it falls into the very traps it tries to critique:
The result is a story that is frustratingly close to being brilliant, but never quite reaches its potential.
Would I recommend it? Yes, absolutely. But this The Journey of Chong Zi review highlights how its romance straddles the line between a toxic love story and an unavoidable tragedy. Despite my critiques, I watched enthralled until the end (admittedly, I was barracking for Zhuo Hao). But be prepared to yell at your screen. A lot.
Luo Yinfan is framed as Chong Zi’s great love, but is he really? His constant push-and-pull behavior, refusal to communicate, and inability to commit make their relationship feel more like a toxic power imbalance than a romance. Would the story have been stronger if it acknowledged that Chong Zi’s attachment was more about misplaced trust and dependency than true love?
The sects claim to be the paragons of virtue, but their actions tell a different story. From enabling abuse to turning a blind eye to corruption, they show a greater commitment to maintaining control than upholding justice. Would Chong Zi have suffered less if she had never entered their world in the first place?
Throughout the drama, Chong Zi is repeatedly told that her fate is sealed. But is it truly destiny, or is it the prejudices of the immortals that force her down a predetermined path? If she had been given true agency, how might her story have played out differently?
If you have read the entire post, you have probably gathered I am Team Zhuo Han, as far as this c-drama is concerned. I have not read the book, so I don’t know what the author intended. My thoughts in this area have been strongly influenced by the script, and you are, of course, free to totally disagree. So, if you were happy with the ending of the c-drama, perhaps don’t read this bit.
Had Chong Zi turned toward Zhuo Hao instead of Luo Yinfan, the story could have been dramatically different. Zhuo Hao’s love for her was never based on obligation or destiny; it was an unwavering devotion built on trust and choice. With him, she would have had a true partner—one who stood by her without demanding that she conform to an impossible moral code.
Less Tragedy, More Agency: With Zhuo Hao, Chong Zi might have had the chance to actively shape her own future rather than being a victim of fate.
A Balanced Partnership: Unlike the power imbalance with Luo Yinfan, Zhuo Hao treated her as an equal, meaning their love could have been one of mutual growth.
Avoiding the Cycle of Suffering: Zhuo Hao was willing to embrace darkness for her, but unlike Luo Yinfan, he never made her feel like a burden or an inevitable tragedy.
Had she chosen him, The Journey of Chong Zi could have been a story of redemption and love defying fate, rather than one of repeated suffering and inevitable loss.
Do you enjoy c-dramas about tragic heroines? Then you may like my review “Hard to Find:Betrayal, Love, Revenge, and Shakespeare“.
Or if you prefer something lighter, check out my review on “Go East: A Splendid Romp Through Ancient China”
























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