K-Drama Touching
Before I watched Dear You, I was puzzled by its Chinese title, 《给阿嬷的情书》. At first, I thought it was about a grandchild writing heartwarming letters to their grandmother, just as the title seemed to suggest. But it turned out to be something completely different—and much more unexpected.
I suspect many viewers, especially non-Chinese audiences, may find it difficult to fully connect with this story. But for Chinese people, particularly those in the diaspora or those whose families have relatives who went overseas, this movie can hit very close to the heart.
The movie was originally spoken in Teochew, a Chinese dialect that is quite different from Mandarin. Many Mandarin speakers cannot understand Teochew at all. The movie has since been dubbed into Mandarin, making it more accessible to a wider Chinese audience.
At its heart, this is a story about a man, Zheng Musheng (played by Wang Yan Tong), who leaves his wife and three young children during the Chinese Civil War and goes to Thailand to make a living. He works hard, saves whatever money he can, and sends it back to his family in China. Along with the money, he always sends a love letter telling his wife how much he loves and misses her.
There is one important detail: Zheng Musheng is illiterate, and so is his wife, Ye Shurou (played by Wang Xiao Hui). So both of them have to rely on other people to write their letters. And when the letters arrive, someone else has to read them aloud.
Some of these letters are incredibly intimate and romantic, which makes the scenes surprisingly funny when someone has to sit there and read these very personal love letters out loud. At the same time, those scenes are incredibly tender. There is something very beautiful about two people who cannot read or write still finding a way to express their love across thousands of miles.
Xie Nanzhi (played by Li Si Tong) is Zheng Musheng's landlady. From time to time, he asks her to help him read letters from his wife. Quietly, she becomes deeply moved by his unwavering love and devotion to his family. After Zheng Musheng dies, she continues, for decades, to send money and love letters to his wife in China under his name.
That part really touched me.
I have known people who lost contact with loved ones after they left for the "South Seas" (南洋). Likewise, when some migrants returned to China, their families in the South Seas sometimes completely lost contact with them, not even knowing whether they were still alive.
Many of these migrants lived incredibly difficult lives. They worked under harsh conditions, lived in poverty and uncertainty, and yet they persevered. What makes their stories especially heartbreaking is the longing—not just for their homeland, but for the people they left behind.
For me, this is what makes Dear You so powerful. It isn't simply a love story between a husband and wife. It is also a story about migration, separation, family, sacrifice, and the enormous emotional price paid by generations of Chinese migrants.
There are no big-name actors here. In fact, most of the main cast are making their screen debut. Yet their performances are remarkably convincing. Their characters feel warm, genuine, and lovable rather than like polished movie stars.
The attention to detail is another thing I really appreciated. The settings feel authentic, from the letters and the way money was remitted, to the old furniture, dilapidated buildings, clothing, and everyday objects of the period. Nothing feels overly glamorous or artificial. It feels like a glimpse into another time.
And perhaps that's why this movie affected me so deeply.
For Chinese viewers, especially those whose families have some connection to migration, this isn't just someone else's story. It is part of the history of where many came from. Our parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents may have lived through similar separations, hardships, and uncertainties.
I think this is a movie that Chinese audiences, young and old, especially the Chinese diaspora around the world, should watch.
It is a reminder that behind the prosperity and lives many have today are generations of people who crossed oceans, endured hardship, missed their families, and carried their love for home with them.
Dear You is, in many ways, a love letter—not just to one grandmother, one family, or one generation, but to the millions of Chinese who left home and carried their memories with them across the seas.
I suspect many viewers, especially non-Chinese audiences, may find it difficult to fully connect with this story. But for Chinese people, particularly those in the diaspora or those whose families have relatives who went overseas, this movie can hit very close to the heart.
The movie was originally spoken in Teochew, a Chinese dialect that is quite different from Mandarin. Many Mandarin speakers cannot understand Teochew at all. The movie has since been dubbed into Mandarin, making it more accessible to a wider Chinese audience.
At its heart, this is a story about a man, Zheng Musheng (played by Wang Yan Tong), who leaves his wife and three young children during the Chinese Civil War and goes to Thailand to make a living. He works hard, saves whatever money he can, and sends it back to his family in China. Along with the money, he always sends a love letter telling his wife how much he loves and misses her.
There is one important detail: Zheng Musheng is illiterate, and so is his wife, Ye Shurou (played by Wang Xiao Hui). So both of them have to rely on other people to write their letters. And when the letters arrive, someone else has to read them aloud.
Some of these letters are incredibly intimate and romantic, which makes the scenes surprisingly funny when someone has to sit there and read these very personal love letters out loud. At the same time, those scenes are incredibly tender. There is something very beautiful about two people who cannot read or write still finding a way to express their love across thousands of miles.
Xie Nanzhi (played by Li Si Tong) is Zheng Musheng's landlady. From time to time, he asks her to help him read letters from his wife. Quietly, she becomes deeply moved by his unwavering love and devotion to his family. After Zheng Musheng dies, she continues, for decades, to send money and love letters to his wife in China under his name.
That part really touched me.
I have known people who lost contact with loved ones after they left for the "South Seas" (南洋). Likewise, when some migrants returned to China, their families in the South Seas sometimes completely lost contact with them, not even knowing whether they were still alive.
Many of these migrants lived incredibly difficult lives. They worked under harsh conditions, lived in poverty and uncertainty, and yet they persevered. What makes their stories especially heartbreaking is the longing—not just for their homeland, but for the people they left behind.
For me, this is what makes Dear You so powerful. It isn't simply a love story between a husband and wife. It is also a story about migration, separation, family, sacrifice, and the enormous emotional price paid by generations of Chinese migrants.
There are no big-name actors here. In fact, most of the main cast are making their screen debut. Yet their performances are remarkably convincing. Their characters feel warm, genuine, and lovable rather than like polished movie stars.
The attention to detail is another thing I really appreciated. The settings feel authentic, from the letters and the way money was remitted, to the old furniture, dilapidated buildings, clothing, and everyday objects of the period. Nothing feels overly glamorous or artificial. It feels like a glimpse into another time.
And perhaps that's why this movie affected me so deeply.
For Chinese viewers, especially those whose families have some connection to migration, this isn't just someone else's story. It is part of the history of where many came from. Our parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents may have lived through similar separations, hardships, and uncertainties.
I think this is a movie that Chinese audiences, young and old, especially the Chinese diaspora around the world, should watch.
It is a reminder that behind the prosperity and lives many have today are generations of people who crossed oceans, endured hardship, missed their families, and carried their love for home with them.
Dear You is, in many ways, a love letter—not just to one grandmother, one family, or one generation, but to the millions of Chinese who left home and carried their memories with them across the seas.
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