L for Love, L for Lies Too 2016

Kwong Mei-Bo, Stephy Tang Lai-Yan, is on a hopeful path after college, pouring her energy into a sweets shop she opens with her longtime boyfriend, Jun, dreaming of a future that includes marriage once the business is stable. The early days feel bright and manageable as Bo balances hard work with a sense that love and life might be neatly aligned.

That serenity is knocked off balance when Kei Kei, Bo’s old Taiwanese classmate, enters the scene with a reckless hunger for Jun. Kei Kei’s charm masks a self-centered aim to steal Jun away, and Bo finds herself facing a betrayal that cuts deep. The pain isn’t limited to romance—the shock ripples through Bo’s livelihood as she watches the sweets shop she built with care wobble under the weight of broken trust.

Trying to pick up the pieces, Bo shifts gears and takes a job as a make-up artist in a mall. There, her world expands in new directions as she navigates workplace dynamics and personal vows. At a party hosted by her boss, something unfamiliar surfaces: the announcement of an engagement. The moment opens old wounds and sets Bo on a path toward a complicated plan when she encounters Keung again. Keung is a practiced conman, someone Bo had once known in passing, and the sight rekindles old cautions while hinting at a chance for something different.

Driven by a mix of hurt, curiosity, and a desire for closure, Bo agrees to a risky arrangement: she enlists Keung to pose as a foil to Kei Kei, hoping the ruse will teach Kei Kei a hard lesson and, perhaps, reveal a cleaner truth about love and loyalty. Keung’s talent for manipulation proves effective, drawing Kei Kei further into his orbit and testing Bo’s own boundaries about what she’s willing to forgive.

Meanwhile, Bo’s life runs parallel to a web of personal struggles. Ah-Man, Bo’s friend who often bounces between relationships, grapples with the fragility of affection and the gap it creates with her own partner. Fung, Ah-Man’s slow-and-steady boyfriend, finds himself torn as he navigates competing loyalties and the weight of past mistakes. The relationships in Bo’s circle become a mirror for the bigger question: can love survive the pressures of deception, miscommunication, and the ego’s loud desires?

Keung’s deception around Kei Kei is eventually exposed, unraveling a scheme that had seemed airtight. Kei Kei, caught in the crossfire of this tangled game, absorbs a painful truth about the consequences of chasing wealth over honesty. Back at the sweets shop, the fallout from the scheme strikes hard enough to push Jun toward a difficult reckoning with Bo. The pair tentatively reconnect, choosing to give their relationship another chance even as the smoke from earlier lies still lingers.

Yet the plot takes a stark turn when Keung’s criminal past and his scheme collide with violence. After a failed kidnapping attempt by his cronies, Keung is mortally wounded and drags himself toward Bo’s world in a final, hopeful but doomed bid to confess his love. He collapses nearby, a blunt reminder of how far lies can travel before truth has a chance to heal.

In the end, Bo and Ah-Man do cross paths in real life, but the truth lands with a twist: Ah-Man’s new boyfriend is Jun, the very person Bo thought she was leaving behind. The film closes with a quiet, bittersweet meditation on love and lies, suggesting that true care for another often hides in acts that aren’t flashy or perfect. If there’s a verdict, it’s that love can reveal itself through the things we do for those who matter, even when those actions are wrapped in deception or measured by the risk of loss. The final image lingers on the idea that honesty, forgiveness, and the courage to let go when needed may be the truest expressions of love, even as the heart wrestles with what it has chosen to protect.