Lai Zhan (来战), the upcoming Xianxia drama starring Ju Jingyi and Zhang Yunlong, has just passed its censorship review and is now set for a dual-platform release on Tencent Video and iQiyi. The show’s promotional material promises a story of master-disciple conflict, revenge, and eventual reconciliation, but anyone familiar with the genre can’t help but notice the eerie similarities to the 2015 mega-hit The Journey of Flower (花千骨).
From the “white cut black” heroine to the tortured, secret-keeping master, the template feels almost too familiar. Yet, beneath the surface of this recycled formula, Lai Zhan might actually be offering something its predecessor never could: a modern, self-aware twist on Xianxia tropes, brought to life by a cast that understands the assignment better than anyone expects. So, is this just another copycat, or could it be the guilty pleasure we didn’t know we needed? Let’s break it down.
Same Old Song and Dance?
The plot of Lai Zhan revolves around A’Dai (阿黛), a young orphan who rises from vagrant beggar to disciple of the carefree immortal Xiao Yihan (萧逸寒). Their early days are filled with comedic banter and growing affection, but things take a dark turn when Xiao betrays their sect to save his brother. What follows is a textbook “enemies-to-lovers” arc spanning three acts: the warm-up, the breakup, and the ultimate team-up against a common foe. It’s a structure so familiar that it feels like a checklist. But here’s the thing—familiar doesn’t always mean bad. When executed well, these beats can still land, especially if the chemistry between the leads is right. And in this case, the casting choices suggest the show knows exactly which buttons to push.
Where Lai Zhan tries to differentiate itself is in its tone. The series reportedly leans into a more playful, comic-book aesthetic, with quick-cut action sequences and exaggerated character expressions that give it a “hot-blooded” energy. It’s a calculated move to appeal to younger viewers who have grown up on webtoons and fast-paced storytelling. This isn’t the poetic, melancholic Xianxia of old; it’s loud, colorful, and unapologetically modern. The special effects, too, are a step above what we saw in The Journey of Flower, thanks to advances in CGI and a bigger budget. So while the story beats may echo the past, the presentation is firmly rooted in the present.
Ju Jingyi: From Idol to Anti-Heroine
Much of the pre-release buzz revolves around Ju Jingyi, who plays A’Dai. The former SNH48 member has slowly shed her idol image to become a respected actress, and her journey mirrors that of her character in many ways. Ju’s determination and work ethic—her refusal to rely on scandals or shortcuts—are qualities she openly shares with A’Dai. In the early episodes, she brings a lightness and innocence to the role, but it’s the later transformation into a vengeful, power-driven figure that will likely define her performance. Her line from the trailer, “I want to ask my master to die,” has already become a viral moment, perfectly encapsulating the show’s core conflict.
What makes Ju’s casting particularly smart is her ability to project both vulnerability and steel. A’Dai’s arc requires an actress who can make the audience root for her even as she descends into darkness, and Ju has proven in past roles that she can handle that duality. She’s not trying to be a carbon copy of Zhao Liying’s iconic performance in The Journey of Flower; instead, she’s crafting a version that feels more contemporary. Her A’Dai is less naive, more self-aware, and quick to call out hypocrisy—traits that resonate with today’s viewers who are tired of passive heroines. This is a character who earns her power, and Ju’s portrayal seems poised to capture that gritty determination.
Zhang Yunlong: The Reluctant Master
On the opposite side of the dynamic is Zhang Yunlong’s Xiao Yihan. Described as a “slacker immortal,” Xiao carries the weight of family duty and buried secrets, making him a reluctant mentor at best. Zhang has often been compared to a budget Hu Ge—similar features, similar screen presence—but his approach to Xiao is distinctly his own. He plays the character with a laid-back charm that makes Xiao’s eventual betrayal all the more jarring. The chemistry between Zhang and Ju is reportedly one of the show’s strongest assets, with early screeners praising their ability to shift from playful teasing to bitter hatred without missing a beat.
What’s interesting about Zhang’s casting is how it upends the “stoic master” archetype. Xiao isn’t the cold, repressed figure we’ve seen a hundred times before; he’s messy, conflicted, and occasionally irritating. This makes him more human but also harder to root for. In a genre where the male lead is often idealized, Zhang’s portrayal adds a layer of unpredictability. He’s not the untouchable hero; he’s a man who makes bad choices for good reasons, and that moral ambiguity is exactly what keeps the audience guessing. It’s a risky take, but if it pays off, it could set Lai Zhan apart from its predecessors.
So, is Lai Zhan the next The Journey of Flower? In some ways, yes—it borrows the same framework of betrayal, revenge, and redemption. But where it diverges is in its execution: a lighter tone, sharper visuals, and a cast that understands the assignment. It’s not trying to reinvent the wheel; it’s just trying to make that wheel spin faster and with more sparkle. For fans of the genre, that might be more than enough. Whether it becomes a classic or just another entry in the Xianxia canon depends on whether it can deliver the emotional payoff that audiences crave. But one thing’s for sure: this time, the master-disciple feud feels a little less tragic and a lot more fun.