The Best Thing's Most Famous Quote: 相濡以沫 and the Zhuangzi Story Behind It

The source novel for the 2025 drama The Best Thing (爱你), penned by Sheng Li (笙离), opens with a stark philosophical choice: "The world has two kinds of romance — 相濡以沫 (xiāng rú yǐ mò), or 相忘于江湖 (xiāng wàng yú jiāng hú)." Moistening each other with foam to survive on dry land, or forgetting each other in the vastness of the rivers and lakes. One is a romance of tragic, desperate co-dependence; the other, a romance of serene, absolute release. The novel, and by extension the drama starring Zhang Linghe and Xu Ruohan, posits that the story of He Suye and Shen Xifan is a third kind.

This framing is not just a clever tagline. It is a direct engagement with one of the most profound parables in Chinese philosophy, a story from the Daoist sage Zhuangzi. To understand the quiet radicalism of The Best Thing's love story, one must first understand the two fish gasping for air on a dry riverbed, and why the sage who imagined them believed their sacrifice was not the ideal. The drama, a modest hit which earned a respectable 6.5 on Douban and peaked at an iQIYI heat index of 8,793, builds its entire emotional architecture on subverting this 2,300-year-old choice. It argues for a love that is neither a shared struggle for survival nor a noble separation, but a form of mutual healing that allows both individuals to swim freely, together.

The original passage comes from the sixth Inner Chapter of the Zhuangzi (庄子·大宗师):

泉涸，鱼相与处于陆，相呴以湿，相濡以沫，不如相忘于江湖。

Quán hé, yú xiāng yǔ chǔ yú lù, xiāng xǔ yǐ shī, xiāng rú yǐ mò, bùrú xiāng wàng yú jiāng hú.

When the springs dry up, the fish are stranded together on the land. They puff moisture on each other and moisten each other with foam. But this is not as good as forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes.

Zhuangzi’s point is quintessentially Daoist. The image of two fish sharing their last bit of moisture is moving, a testament to small-scale morality and mutual care. But it is also a profound tragedy. They are in an unnatural, life-draining situation. Their interdependence is a symptom of a catastrophe. The Daoist ideal, the Way (道), is not to nobly suffer together but to exist in a state of effortless, expansive freedom. It is better to be a fish swimming so freely in a vast river that you forget other fish even exist. Freedom is superior to survival.

Over two millennia, Chinese culture performed a remarkable inversion. The Confucian emphasis on social duty, familial loyalty, and shared struggle elevated the tragic image of the two fish. 相濡以沫 (xiāng rú yǐ mò) was detached from its tragic context and became a celebrated ideal of romantic and comradely devotion. It came to represent the nobility of supporting a partner through poverty, illness, and hardship. Conversely, 相忘于江湖 (xiāng wàng yú jiāng hú), Zhuangzi’s preferred state of freedom, was reinterpreted as a poignant but sad letting go, an amicable but heartbreaking separation.

The Best Thing consciously rejects both modern interpretations. It presents a "third way" rooted in the practice of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). The love story between He Suye (He Suye), the gentle TCM physician, and Shen Xifan (Shen Xifan), the overworked hotel manager, is not about two dying fish. It is about a doctor diagnosing the root cause of an imbalance and prescribing a cure so the patient can return to the water, whole and healthy. Their love is not the foam; it is the prescription that restores them to the river.

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相濡以沫 (xiāng rú yǐ mò) — "Moisten Each Other with Foam"

Meaning: To help and support each other through adversity.

Origin: This idiom originates from the Zhuangzi, Inner Chapter 6, "The Great and Venerable Teacher" (大宗师). The parable describes fish left stranded when a spring dries up. To survive, they share the little moisture they have by breathing foam (沫, mò) onto one another. While Zhuangzi presented this as a less-than-ideal state of clinging survival, later interpretations, particularly through a Confucian lens, celebrated the act of mutual sacrifice. The phrase evolved to symbolize the profound bond between people, especially couples, who endure hardship together, their shared struggle becoming the foundation of their devotion.

Connection: The Best Thing uses this idiom as its foundational thesis, only to gently dismantle it. The source novel by Sheng Li explicitly frames the story of He Suye and Shen Xifan as an alternative to the binary choice of xiāng rú yǐ mò (tragic co-dependence) or xiāng wàng yú jiāng hú (amicable separation). Shen Xifan’s initial state—suffering from severe insomnia due to work stress and a failing long-distance relationship—mirrors the fish on dry land. She is spiritually and physically "drying up." A lesser romance would frame He Suye’s love as the "foam" that keeps her alive. Instead, his love acts as a form of medicine. As a TCM doctor, he doesn't just offer temporary comfort; he diagnoses her condition as excess liver-fire (肝火太旺) and provides a real cure. Their relationship is not about surviving hardship together; it is about healing each other so that hardship is no longer the defining condition of their lives.

Use it: To describe the profound loyalty and mutual support shown by partners or allies during a period of intense difficulty, emphasizing their shared resilience.

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患难与共 (huàn nàn yǔ gòng) — "Share Hardships Together"

Meaning: To stand together and share burdens through thick and thin.

Origin: While the sentiment is ancient, the phrase finds its roots in classical texts that emphasize solidarity. It is conceptually linked to Confucian ethics found in works like the Book of Rites (礼记), which values mutual support as a cornerstone of a stable society. The four characters—患 (huàn, trouble), 难 (nàn, difficulty), 与 (yǔ, with), and 共 (gòng, together)—form a direct and powerful statement about shared experience in adversity. Unlike xiāng rú yǐ mò, which carries a hint of desperation, huàn nàn yǔ gòng is a more stoic and resolute declaration of loyalty, a promise to face whatever comes as a single unit.

Connection: While the drama’s core philosophy avoids making hardship the basis of love, it does not shy away from depicting it. The characters are not spared from life’s trials, giving them opportunities to practice huàn nàn yǔ gòng. The most significant example is when Shen Xifan’s mother is diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer. During this period, He Suye provides not just medical knowledge but unwavering emotional support, becoming a calm anchor for Xifan and her family. Later, when Xifan decides to pursue a master's degree abroad, they endure a 14-month long-distance relationship. This separation is a shared trial—a huàn nàn—that tests their commitment. They face it not with desperation, but with the quiet confidence of two whole individuals who have chosen to be together. Their ability to huàn nàn yǔ gòng proves that their love is strong enough for the "dry land," even if it was born from a desire for the "river." For more on the language of mature romance in the show, see our guide to The Language of Healing and Slow-Burn Love.

Use it: To praise a relationship—be it romantic, familial, or a friendship—that has been tested by significant challenges and has proven its strength through unwavering solidarity.

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破镜重圆 (pò jìng chóng yuán) — "A Broken Mirror Made Whole Again"

Meaning: The reunion of a couple after a forced separation or breakup.

Origin: This idiom comes from a famous story set during the turbulent transition from the Chen Dynasty to the Sui Dynasty (late 6th century CE). Princess Lechang (乐昌公主) and her husband Xu Deyan (徐德言) faced certain separation from the impending war. As a pledge to find each other again, they broke a bronze mirror in half, each keeping a piece. They agreed to try and meet on the day of the Lantern Festival in the capital's marketplace. The dynasty fell, and the princess was taken into the household of a powerful Sui general. On the agreed-upon day, Xu Deyan found an old servant selling his half of the mirror. The servant led him to the princess, who, upon seeing her husband’s half, wrote a poem of deep sorrow. The general, moved by their story, allowed the couple to reunite. The "broken mirror" (破镜) being "re-rounded" (重圆) became a powerful metaphor for lovers finding their way back to each other.

Connection: The 14-month period when Shen Xifan studies abroad serves as the "broken mirror" in The Best Thing. While their separation is voluntary and planned, it is a significant fracture in their daily life together. The drama dedicates time to showing the challenges of maintaining their bond across continents and time zones. The climactic pò jìng chóng yuán moment occurs when Xifan flies home seven months into her program for a surprise visit. He Suye picks her up from the airport, and their reunion—sealed with a quiet, heartfelt kiss in the car—is the emotional centerpiece of the final act. It is not a dramatic, tear-soaked reunion born from tragedy, but a calm, certain clicking-back-together of two pieces that were always meant to be whole.

Use it: To describe the joyful and often emotional reconciliation of a couple who have been separated by distance, time, or conflict, marking a return to their former unity.

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海枯石烂 (hǎi kū shí làn) — "Seas Dry Up and Stones Decay"

Meaning: A vow of eternal love or commitment that will last until the end of time.

Origin: This powerful hyperbole appears in various forms in classical Chinese poetry and literature, often attributed to Tang and Song dynasty poets. The phrase paints a picture of geological impossibilities: seas (海, hǎi) drying up (枯, kū) and stones (石, shí) rotting away (烂, làn). Since these events would require an unimaginable expanse of time, the idiom became the ultimate expression of permanence. It is a vow that transcends mortal lifespans and earthly change. To promise to love someone until hǎi kū shí làn is to promise to love them forever, in the most absolute sense.

Connection: In the drama’s finale, He Suye’s wedding vow is a direct echo of the novel's title and this idiom's sentiment. He tells Shen Xifan, "爱上你，是我最幸运的事" ("Falling in love with you is the luckiest thing I've ever done"). This line, a modification of the book's title "Loving you is the best thing I've ever done," serves as their version of an eternal vow. It is a promise that feels earned rather than declared. After navigating her burnout, his quiet life, her mother's illness, and a long-distance separation, their commitment is not an untested, hyperbolic promise. It is a statement of fact grounded in lived experience. Their love will last until the seas dry and stones decay because it is built not on passionate desperation but on the unshakable foundation of mutual respect and healing. The name He Suye itself, a nod to the healing herb Perilla leaf, underscores this theme; their love is fundamentally restorative. For a deeper look, you can read our analysis of What He Suye's Name Means in Chinese Medicine.

Use it: To express a vow of undying, unconditional, and eternal love, often used in romantic promises, wedding vows, or poetry.

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白头偕老 (bái tóu xié lǎo) — "White Hair Together in Old Age"

Meaning: To grow old together as a couple.

Origin: This idiom is one of the most common and cherished blessings for a married couple in Chinese culture. Its imagery is simple and poignant: white (白, bái) heads (头, tóu) side-by-side (偕, xié) in old age (老, lǎo). The phrase is found in the Book of Odes (诗经), one of the oldest collections of Chinese poetry, in the poem "The Drum Gongs" (击鼓), which contains the line "执子之手，与子偕老" ("Holding your hand, growing old with you"). Bái tóu xié lǎo captures the ultimate goal of a committed partnership: not just passionate romance, but quiet, lifelong companionship that endures until both partners' hair has turned white.

Connection: The entire narrative of The Best Thing builds toward this quiet ideal. The drama concludes with Shen Xifan and He Suye’s spring wedding. The scene is not a grand, dramatic spectacle but an intimate, gentle ceremony that reflects the nature of their relationship. As they exchange vows and rings, the unspoken promise is bái tóu xié lǎo. After the philosophical debates of xiāng rú yǐ mò and the trials of separation, the story lands on this simple, profound image: two people, made whole by each other's care, choosing to walk the rest of their lives together. The drama’s ending is a quiet affirmation that the "third kind of romance" is one that leads not to a tragic, noble end, nor to a lonely freedom, but to the simple, enduring happiness of growing old with the person who helped you heal.