Ji Jiu’s situation is one of the most emotionally complicated. What makes it painful isn’t simply that he is a reincarnation—it’s that he inherits the relationships, responsibilities, and emotional consequences of someone he no longer remembers being.
Imagine waking up and discovering that someone loves you because, to them, you are the person they lost. You discover that you were once their lover, and that there is also an adopted child who once regarded that previous incarnation as a father. Yet inside, you are still Ji Jiu. You have your own personality, memories, and feelings.
That creates a heartbreaking conflict: Does Ji Jiu owe them the love that his previous life gave them?
I don’t think he does. And that’s what makes his situation so tragic. Yi Mo may recognize him and see traces of the person he loved, but Ji Jiu cannot simply inherit thousands of years of memories and emotions. Being the reincarnation of someone’s lover doesn’t automatically mean becoming that lover again.
The adopted son makes it even more painful. Ji Jiu isn’t just confronting someone else’s romance—he is confronting the fact that a child may look at him and see his father. He may want to comfort that child, but at the same time wonder whether he is doing it because he genuinely feels that connection or because he is trying to fulfill a role that belonged to someone else.
To me, Ji Jiu’s greatest struggle would be identity. He could easily feel like everyone loves a version of him that existed before he was born. He might even wonder:
“Do you love me, Ji Jiu, or do you love the person you remember?”
And that question makes the relationship with Yi Mo especially bittersweet. Yi Mo has memories that Ji Jiu doesn’t have. Yi Mo carries the history, while Ji Jiu carries only the aftermath.
What I appreciate about this situation is that reincarnation isn’t portrayed as a simple “you came back, so everything is fine.” The person who returns can be different, even if the soul is the same. Love can survive across lifetimes, but that doesn’t mean the people involved experience that love in the same way.
Ultimately, I think Ji Jiu deserves the freedom to become his own person, rather than being forced to live as the lover and father he used to be.
And honestly, that’s what makes his situation so heartbreaking: he didn’t choose to inherit a love story, but he has to decide what to do with the pieces of it that were left behind.
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Ji Jiu’s situation is one of the most emotionally complicated. What makes it painful isn’t simply that he is a reincarnation—it’s that he inherits the relationships, responsibilities, and emotional consequences of someone he no longer remembers being.
Imagine waking up and discovering that someone loves you because, to them, you are the person they lost. You discover that you were once their lover, and that there is also an adopted child who once regarded that previous incarnation as a father. Yet inside, you are still Ji Jiu. You have your own personality, memories, and feelings.
That creates a heartbreaking conflict: Does Ji Jiu owe them the love that his previous life gave them?
I don’t think he does. And that’s what makes his situation so tragic. Yi Mo may recognize him and see traces of the person he loved, but Ji Jiu cannot simply inherit thousands of years of memories and emotions. Being the reincarnation of someone’s lover doesn’t automatically mean becoming that lover again.
The adopted son makes it even more painful. Ji Jiu isn’t just confronting someone else’s romance—he is confronting the fact that a child may look at him and see his father. He may want to comfort that child, but at the same time wonder whether he is doing it because he genuinely feels that connection or because he is trying to fulfill a role that belonged to someone else.
To me, Ji Jiu’s greatest struggle would be identity. He could easily feel like everyone loves a version of him that existed before he was born. He might even wonder:
“Do you love me, Ji Jiu, or do you love the person you remember?”
And that question makes the relationship with Yi Mo especially bittersweet. Yi Mo has memories that Ji Jiu doesn’t have. Yi Mo carries the history, while Ji Jiu carries only the aftermath.
What I appreciate about this situation is that reincarnation isn’t portrayed as a simple “you came back, so everything is fine.” The person who returns can be different, even if the soul is the same. Love can survive across lifetimes, but that doesn’t mean the people involved experience that love in the same way.
Ultimately, I think Ji Jiu deserves the freedom to become his own person, rather than being forced to live as the lover and father he used to be.
And honestly, that’s what makes his situation so heartbreaking: he didn’t choose to inherit a love story, but he has to decide what to do with the pieces of it that were left behind.