Does 'Joy Of Life' Have A Happy Ending?

I've been obsessed with 'Joy of Life' for months, and that ending hit me like a truck. Fan Qiming survives against all odds, outsmarting every conspiracy thrown at him, but happiness comes at a brutal cost. His adoptive father dies protecting him, his mentor sacrifices herself, and he loses access to modern knowledge that made him special. The final scene shows him smiling on a beach with his wives, but his eyes are haunted. It's bittersweet—he wins politically but carries permanent scars. The sequel hook implies his struggles aren't over, which keeps fans debating whether it truly counts as 'happy.' For me, it's a victory tempered by lingering melancholy.

As someone who analyzed 'Joy of Life' chapter by chapter, I see the ending as a masterclass in emotional ambivalence. On the surface, Fan Xian achieves everything—power, love, revenge against his enemies. Dig deeper, and you realize how much he's compromised. His marriage to Lin Wan'er is genuine, but she knows he'll always love Haitang Dou. His political reforms succeed, yet the Qing monarchy remains intact. Even his miraculous survival comes from betraying his modern ideals by manipulating ancient superstitions.

The brilliance lies in how the author subverts expectations. Fan Xian doesn't overthrow the system; he learns to navigate it. His 'joy' isn't untainted happiness but hard-won contentment. The final chapters deliberately contrast his youthful idealism with mature pragmatism. That scene where he burns his notebook of future knowledge symbolizes this—he's choosing to live in the present rather than chase impossible dreams. Some fans wanted a fairytale ending; what they got was something far more human and memorable.

Let's cut through the debates—this ending is happy on paper, devastating in execution. Fan Xian gets wealth, influence, and family, but watch how the cinematography tells the real story. That final shot holds on his fake smile just a second too long. The music swells triumphantly while his fingers dig into his palm until they bleed. Subtle details reveal he's still trapped in the game, just with fancier chains.

Compare it to early episodes where his laughter reached his eyes. Now even intimate moments feel performative. When Lin Wan'er jokes about his 'scheming face,' it's played for laughs but exposes the truth. The show hints he's become exactly what he once mocked—a player in the system rather than its challenger. Yet there's beauty in how he finds meaning anyway. His adopted son represents hope for gradual change, proving 'happy' doesn't mean perfect.