TV Drama Review: The Legend of ZangHai — No Star Power Can Save a Script That Falls Apart

Written by Richard Ren (Freelance Literary Critic) | June 12, 2025

The much-hyped drama The Legend of ZangHai completed its 40-episode run earlier this month. Despite featuring top-tier celebrities like Xiao Zhan and generating impressive engagement metrics, with waves of curated praise flooding social media, the ending left many viewers with the bitter aftertaste of a “botched finale.” Unfortunately, the downfall wasn’t due to pacing—but rather, a complete collapse of the script.

From character logic to plot construction, the series is riddled with holes and blatant inconsistencies. For instance, how could a young Zang Hai (then known as Zhinu) casually break through heavy security to board the princess’s carriage, even leaving behind a deliberately planted “X”-shaped scar as a future identifier? The setup feels painfully forced. Similarly, the powerful Marquis Pingjin had supposedly surveilled Kuai Duo (Zang Hai’s father) for years, yet was unaware of a hidden tunnel in his residence. When Kuai Duo refused to hand over a secret item, the marquis illogically slaughtered the entire family—completely contradicting his carefully built persona of a shrewd strategist.

The plot frequently relies on “mysterious forces” or “brainless villains” to clear the way for the protagonist. Whenever Zang Hai faces danger, a benefactor inevitably appears. In one tomb scene, despite a clearly open path, a random “head popping up” sets off a trap—pure contrivance. Villains’ IQs plummet at key moments to allow the hero easy victories, stripping the show of any true thrill of strategic mind games or logical development.

This overreliance on a godlike protagonist—often referred to as the “golden finger” trope—is the show’s biggest flaw. It sacrifices strategic depth, the authenticity of character growth, and ultimately, the audience’s expectations of a competent political drama. Many viewers sarcastically remarked, “Zang Hai isn’t an avenger—he’s a living lucky charm.”

Compared to Nirvana in Fire’s Mei Changsu, who embodies meticulous planning and restraint, Zang Hai comes across as erratic and emotionally immature. His inability to convincingly conceal his identity is baffling. One especially jarring moment was his visit to Minister Zhao—the writing was so over-the-top, it shattered suspension of disbelief.

To be fair, thanks to strong financial backing, the production quality is above average. Costume design, cinematography, and set direction all show aesthetic care and professionalism. But at the core of every series lies its script—and The Legend of ZangHai crashes at this most critical juncture.

More troubling is the apparent censorship of criticism. When I attempted to post a neutral-to-negative review on a certain platform, my post was repeatedly hidden or restricted to “only visible to myself.” This atmosphere of “praise only” feels deeply at odds with the actual viewing experience.

In summary, The Legend of ZangHai is a classic example of a pseudo-strategic drama: dazzling in setup, yet crumbling in execution. When creators prioritize trending topics, extravagant worldbuilding, visual filters, and fashion styling over solid storytelling, what remains is little more than an empty spectacle—and viewers’ disappointment.

Which raises the real questions:
Beyond the curated flood of rave reviews, can this kind of series stand up to professional scrutiny?
Beyond the buzz driven by celebrity fandoms, can it stand the test of time?

When a show full of plot holes, shallow characters, and over-the-top melodrama can still rack up “billions of views”—is that a victory for China’s TV industry, or just a war of attrition on viewers’ patience and intelligence?

Audiences are not just data points. What they truly want is a well-crafted, emotionally resonant, logically coherent drama—not a flashy, hollow shell dressed up in high concept.