[Review] When I Fly Towards You

Youth, Friendship, and Ambition

Watching When I Fly Towards You felt like flipping through an old photo album—one filled with snapshots of youth, its joys, and its fleeting moments. This Chinese drama had been appearing before me repeatedly, at the end persuading me to give it a chance. I’ll admit, the first few episodes felt clumsy and a bit forced, but soon, that hesitation melted into something else entirely: warmth. Towards the middle, I felt as if I, too, were part of their world, walking alongside them in their mundane yet unforgettable days.

Puppy Love, or Beyond?

At first glance, it might seem like just another romance drama about puppy love. And yes, there’s plenty of that. But the story reveals itself to be multi-layered: the warmth of genuine friendships, the mundanity of everyday life that somehow becomes precious in retrospect, the pressures of studying and striving to improve, the small moments of joy shared between friends, the determination to stand up for oneself, and the reflections that linger long after the episodes are over. It might not be the most realistic drama, nor does it boast the most intricate storyline, but these layers, sprinkled with inspirational lines that make you pause and ponder, are what make it captivating.

Sweet 16 & Friends in Need

The drama reminded me of my high school years—how we’d wake up every day, unsure of what would come but eager to tackle it nonetheless (as says their Math teacher). Watching the characters form their friendships from scratch, starting with misunderstandings and evolving into bonds of shared laughter, tears, and support, felt poignant and real (maybe with a slight sense of yearning too). Their group sets a high bar for friendship, showing how people can bring out the best in each other. The male main lead, Zhang Lurang, for example, starts off as reserved and distant, to the point where even his brother is surprised when he sees him smile while with his friends. But as he’s surrounded by the right people, he begins to flourish.

Another moment was when Jiang Jia faced the overwhelming task of choosing her future career, a pivotal moment in the drama highlighted how life isn’t only about math or physics. Most of her friends had clear ambitions, but Jiang Jia didn’t know what to put down on the form. She felt overwhelmed, but things changed when her friend, Gu Ran, learned that Jiang Jia had bravely exposed a thief trying to sneak into the school. "Not many people would have done that," he remarked. This moment made Jiang Jia realize that her true strength didn’t lie just in academic skills but in her courage and integrity.

When their high school years ended, I wept with them. It’s strange—when you’re in the middle of those moments, they feel ordinary, even tedious. Only when they’re gone do they take on a luminous quality, like a photograph you didn’t appreciate until years later. The value of those days is only realized after they’ve slipped into memory.

Speaking of making memories, I loved how Su Zai Zai—the female main lead—documents her life to cherish the moments. Another aspect I relate to her (other than that she has been ambitious in English since senior high school and that she becomes a translator).

Zhang Lurang to Su Zai Zai:

Didn’t you say we’d be happier if we record the happy moments?

Going down the memory lane

Then came the academic struggles, so vividly portrayed. Their late-night self-study sessions, their scores announced publicly for all to see—so different yet so relatable. It’s not the same in Turkey. We didn’t have evening self-study sessions, and our scores weren’t displayed across the entire school, but if you were in a mock exam club (deneme sınavı kulübü) or attending extra classes, your results were always visible. The pressure was real. I still remember one name from those boards, someone who consistently topped the charts. It was intense, almost suffocating at times, but it pushed us to do better, to aim higher.

I remember those days like yesterday. Not going back to sleep after fajr, sitting at my desk with heavy eyes but a determined heart. Subject after subject, test after test, always trying to inch my scores higher, always competing—not just with others but with myself. And yet, watching the drama made me pause. There was a moment where I thought, What am I doing now, sitting here idly? Then I remembered—this, this place I’m in now, I worked so hard to get here. All those sleepless mornings, those relentless study sessions, that constant drive to improve.

It’s funny how When I Fly Towards You does that to you. It makes you want to pick up a pen, open a book, and try again. The nostalgia it brings is overwhelming—those mundane days of mock exams, the quiet camaraderie of shared struggles, the pressure of proving yourself. (Does feeling that way show that I still carry the same determination?)

Growing and glowing up together

The characters’ growth mirrored my own in ways I hadn’t expected. Su Zai Zai’s strength in speaking her mind, her clear and direct communication, stood out and posed an example for the desirable way of communicating. “Speak out if you’re happy. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know it,” she says. And it’s such a simple truth. Confidence, I realized, isn’t about shouting the loudest or shining the brightest—it’s about standing firm, trusting in yourself and in your value, as portrayed intrinsically by Su Zai Zai.

Speaking of confidence, it reminded me of something my professor once said during my time at Boğaziçi University, one of Turkey’s most prestigious institutions: This place should make you more confident, not less. It’s a place we arrived at through both choice and merit, selecting and being selected. That alone is something to cherish, a reminder to recognize our worth and rise to the challenges we face.

You don’t have to shine always

One line from the drama struck me particularly deeply, said by a grandmother to her grandson after he told her that he would try harder to take the main lead on the stage play.

“You don’t necessarily have to become the sun. If you’re willing to, you could be a star, a streetlight, or a firefly—all capable of shining. When they want to shine, they shine.”

It’s a gentle yet profound reminder that not everyone needs to be at the center of attention, radiating brightly for all to see. Even quiet lights, those that shine in small ways, have meaning.

This resonates with the essence of the drama. It’s not about being the brightest or the best, but about finding your own way to shine, in your own time and space. Whether it’s about growing together, waiting for each other (taken from a comment), or discovering your strengths, When I Fly Towards You is a poignant reminder that our existence is meaningful. Don’t easily dismiss yourself.

I failed to find information on the subtitle translator(s) of the series. Nonetheless, we must acknowledge the deliberate effort, knowledge and dedication behind the words that appear to be already in English for us, international audience. Through translation, which takes us on a ride toward the original, we are able to truly enjoy the series!

Betül Mulbay

November 2024