#eliolst

"Some stories don't just entertain you, they crawl under your skin." (@bts_anu)

《双程》 has always been one of those stories for me. Ever since I first read it as a teenager, and through countless rereads afterwards, it has never really left me. Humans are attracted to pain, I guess, and I used to be addicted to those kinds of stories. I lost count of how many times I reread 《双程》, and every time I came away understanding the characters a little more.

To me, Lu Feng and Cheng Yichen's right to be understood, to be cherished, and not to be endlessly blamed has always been important. Not because they were innocent - they weren't. They both made mistakes. They both hurt each other. But they also spent almost their entire lives paying for those mistakes. At some point, I stopped asking who was right and who was wrong.

Most importantly, I always believed their story deserved to be told with care, as the novel itself begins:

"A person only has one story. Only one story worth telling."

For a long time, and even now, I feel that people remember 《双程》 mainly for its pain. Its most controversial moments often overshadow everything else: the tenderness, the devotion, the years of yearning, the desperate attempts to hold on to someone they simply couldn't let go of, and the burdens of their time - when being gay was still treated as a disease to be cured; when the only "normal" future people could imagine was getting married and having children. Sometimes it felt as though people only saw 《双程》 as a story about damaged people solving their problems through sex, obsession, and suffering, while missing the heart of it entirely.

So when Double Helix was announced, I was skeptical. I remember rolling my eyes and thinking, "Not again. Why are they adapting 《双程》 again?". And yet I still watched. Because there was hope. At least this time it was a series instead of a movie. You cannot tell Lu Feng and Cheng Yichen's story in just a few hours.

To my surprise, and thankfully, they proved me wrong.

The first thing that captivated me was Ayden's performance, especially his eyes. There were moments when he looked so much like the Lu Feng I had imagined for years that it genuinely gave me chills. Yes, that look. That unwavering devotion. Those eyes of someone hopelessly, stubbornly in love. Those were exactly the Lu Feng's eyes I had always imagined. And his seasoned acting, what else can I say? Sometimes I felt it was too good to be true, that someone this talented really chose such a controversial character to portray.

Then there was Elio. It certainly took him a little time to adjust. Cheng Yichen - unlike the normal beta look he has - is a character that is not easy to portray. Almost everything important about Xiao Chen happens beneath the surface: his fear, his guilt, his longing, his constant conflict between what he wants and what he believes he should do, and the tendency to put everyone else's feelings before his own. He is a character whose loudest emotions are often the ones he never says out loud. Yet once Elio gradually settled into the role, he clicked perfectly with Ayden. Watching them together, I found myself thinking: "Yes, these two belong together." The chemistry wasn't loud at first. I felt like they clicked immediately, but chemistry naturally kept growing stronger, slowly brewed over time as the story progressed, which made it feel even more real. What surprised and satisfied me most was Elio's interpretation of Cheng Yichen. He was still vulnerable, still gentle, still carrying all of Xiao Chen's fears and insecurities, but there was also a quiet firmness to him when it mattered. There were moments where a slap in the novel became a touch on the cheek, and somehow that small change spoke volumes. It felt like the Cheng Yichen I had always wished could be just a little stronger.

The further I got into the series, the more I appreciated both actors. Like us - many longtime readers - they also spent time reading and rereading the novel and the scripts, trying to understand these characters from the inside out. Not just their actions, but their fears, their contradictions, and the reasons behind their choices. More importantly, what came across to me was that they respected and cared deeply not only for their own characters, but for each other's as well. That touched me the most. They never approached Lu Feng or Cheng Yichen as characters to be judged. They approached them with empathy. Where some people see only a possessive man or a cowardly lover, they looked deeper. They never reduced Lu Feng to a madman driven solely by obsession, nor Cheng Yichen to someone weak, cowardly, or incapable of fighting for love.

Finding people who truly understand these characters is rare.

Finding actors capable of helping viewers understand them too is even rarer. After all these years, I honestly thought I had given up hope of ever seeing that happen.

I am equally grateful to everyone behind Double Helix. Knowing the production schedule was incredibly short, I was amazed by how much care went into preserving the spirit of the original novel. The essential details, lines, and iconic moments that mattered to readers were still there, while being adapted thoughtfully enough for modern audiences to connect with them. It felt like the story was finally being told in a way that invited understanding rather than condemnation.

Besides, as someone who lived through that era and now lives in this one, I am still fascinated by how fast the night changes, in a good way. When I first read 《双程》 as a teenager, reading danmei/BL felt like a secret. Being gay was still widely treated as something to be hidden, corrected, or cured. Nowadays, some of the burdens Lu Feng and Cheng Yichen once carried no longer have to be carried by so many people, and perhaps that is why their story can now be told in a softer, more understanding way.

Perhaps that is also why I was unexpectedly emotional when the series chose to address Lu Feng's mental health directly. For years, people called him crazy - an ugly dragon who didn't deserve happiness. While I never excused the things he did, I also never believed that was the whole story. There was always something deeper beneath the anger, the obsession, the self-destruction, and the inability to let go.

So when the series finally put a name to that struggle, it didn't feel like an excuse.

It felt like understanding. For once, someone besides Xiao Chen, looked at the ugly dragon and asked what had hurt him enough to become one.

Of course, there are still things I imagined differently. There are scenes that don't quite match the pictures I carried in my head for years. I still wish we could have heard more of the actors' original voices.

But honestly, those things don't matter very much. Because they did justice to Feng Chen's story. Every single one of them did. And that is important.

Double Helix, like 《双程》 itself, is something I will treasure for the rest of my life. I have carried Lu Feng and Cheng Yichen's story with me for more than 15 years, and I will continue carrying it for many years to come.