It’s been less than two years since Rebecca Patricia Armstrong and Freen Sarocha Chankimha put Thai live-action yuri on the map with their appearances in GAP: The Series. GAP racked up hundreds of millions of views and inspired a host of other Thai yuri series seeking to match its success. Becky and Freen have now returned to put to flight the pretenders to their throne, in their new series The Loyal Pin, based on the novel of the same name by Mon Maw. (The Loyal Pin is currently streaming on YouTube; this review covers the show through episode 7 of 16.)

The “throne” is almost literal in this case, as The Loyal Pin, a period piece set in the 1950s on, tells the story of Princess Anin (Becky), a member of the Thai royal family, and Lady Pin (Freen), her childhood friend and (as the series progresses) lover. Unlike GAP (for which its production company Idol Factory famously had no sponsor), The Loyal Pin is lavishly funded (by the Thai Ministry of Commerce, among others). Every baht of that shows up on the screen, from the beautiful sets to the top-notch cinematography to the lovingly-photographed Thai cuisine. As befits what is in many respects an advertisement for Thailand (part of the Thai government’s “soft power” strategy), The Loyal Pin also presents an idealized view of a (fictional) Thai royal family, depicted (at least thus far) as uniformly nice people.

To put it simply, The Loyal Pin is a romantic fantasy of a princess finding true love — except that in this case the princess is a lesbian. Princess Anin and Lady Pin have been extremely close since they were children, when Pin was adopted by her aunt (another princess) after the death of her parents. While Pin is attending university, Anin returns from studying abroad in England to express her “burning desire” for Pin. Pin, an introverted young woman (and outranked by Anin to boot) is initially reluctant to respond in kind, but eventually gives in to her own desires. But trouble is on the horizon: now that their studies are over, Anin and Pin will no doubt be expected to marry eligible suitors arranged for them. Anin has rejected a multitude of hopefuls thus far, and may escape that fate (there is real-life precedent for this), but it’s likely that Pin cannot. The remaining episodes of the series will presumably see this drama play out.

Freen and Becky’s previous appearances in GAP and other works and their history as an Idol Factory-promoted khu jin or “imagined couple” have given them a level of trust and comfort with each other that makes their characters’ on-screen romance completely convincing. Becky has improved her acting since GAP, and effectively portrays a princess who can be imperious with servants and would-be suitors, and dominant in her love scenes with Pin, but who is ultimately subject to the constraints of her position as a young woman in a patriarchal family.

Freen has less dialogue and the character of Pin is shy and retiring, but she compensates for it using her eyes, facial expressions, and gestures to convey Pin’s emotions. The camera focuses on her when Pin finally confesses to Anin, and rightly so — it’s an achingly romantic scene. Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Nam Orntara Poolsak, who plays Anin’s maid and confidante Prik. Nam, who played Sam’s friend Jim in GAP, is truly hilarious as the wingman for Anin and Pin’s relationship; she deserves to have a lead role someday in her own show.

Ever since GAP, fans have been waiting for “FreenBecky” to appear on screen again. Another production company featured them in the science fiction film Uranus 2324, but that movie has not yet been widely released outside Thailand. Now with The Loyal Pin Idol Factory has created a more than worthy successor to GAP, one that further cements Freen and Becky’s position as Thai yuri royalty.

Incredible production values, an affecting story, and solid performances by Freen and Becky make The Loyal Pin the best Thai live-action yuri series to date, a sapphic storybook romance that should delight their current fans and attract new ones.

Another day, another Thai yuri “love team.” Today it’s Lingling Sirilak Kwong and Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong, better known to fans as “Lingorm.” They star in The Secret of Us, an 8-episode series that aired on Channel 3, Thailand’s oldest commercial broadcast channel, and is streaming with English subtitles on YouTube, the 3Plus Premium service, or Netflix, depending on the country.

Based on the novel of the same name by Mee Nam, The Secret of Us features the lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers story of Fahlada (Lingling) and Earn (Orm), who meet and fall in love as university students. After a particularly cruel parental intervention, Earn is forced to break off the relationship. Stung by Earn’s rejection, and not knowing the cause of it, Fahlada is unpleasantly surprised years later to find that Earn, now a successful actor, has been engaged to film a commercial for the private hospital owned by Fahlada’s family, in which Fahlada now works as a doctor and of which she’s the presumptive future director.

While Fahlada wants absolutely nothing to do with Earn, and is slated to be engaged to a handsome fellow doctor, Earn regrets the break-up and tries to persuade Fahlada to open her heart to her once again. And here lies the major problem with this series: although Earn wants to reconcile with Fahlada, who was severely traumatized by Earn leaving her, Earn never bothers to explain to Fahlada exactly why she left her in the first place, and we as viewers aren’t provided any clue as to why Earn doesn’t provide that explanation. It’s a particularly egregious example of a story that wouldn’t exist if the people involved bothered to talk to each other.

The Secret of Us has other plot problems: The end of the series features a clichéd plot twist (one that’s already been employed by at least two other recent Thai yuri series) that serves to force a family reconciliation that comes off as more than a bit unearned. (It’s apparently a standard theme in Thai dramas that happy endings require that initially-recalcitrant elders be appeased.) There’s also a cringeworthy BL subplot that is not in the source novel and was clumsily shoehorned in, presumably as a sop to BL fans.

Fortunately, things look better when we turn from plot to characters: Orm (who resembles a young Scarlett Johannson from certain angles) is quite winning and winsome as the brown-haired extroverted member of the standard yuri pair, while Lingling cuts an elegant figure as the scorned and sensitive black-haired beauty. They play well against each other, both when angry and upset and when being cutely affectionate with each other—although those looking for the raw eroticism of GAP and Blank will be disappointed. Three other characters stand out from the crowd: Russamee (Um Apasiri Nitibhon) is an ice-cold villain and formidable final boss who won a “most hated” award on Reddit. Engfa (Ying Anada Prakobkit), one of Earn’s fellow actors, is consistently interesting as she alternately pines for Earn and helps her reconcile with Fahlada. And Earn’s manager Suzie (Eclair Chatsak Mahata) is so unabashedly herself, in her colorful outfits and ever-changing hairstyles, that she transcends the comic relief role that the script has assigned to her.

Unfortunately, the relatively weak scriptwriting in The Secret of Us often puts otherwise compelling characters into situations that don’t make sense given the context, as with some of Earn’s more forward attempts to win Fahlada back. Lingling and Orm deserve a better vehicle for their considerable talents.