At times, I wonder how appropriate it is to exchange greeting cards carrying messages such as “Happy Dragon Boat Festival” or “Happy Zongzi Festival,” considering the historical origins of this observance. The original purpose of making and throwing rice dumplings into the Miluo River (汨罗江) was to prevent the body of the patriotic poet-statesman Qu Yuan (屈原) from being eaten by fish. It is, at its core, a gesture rooted in mourning and remembrance.
According to tradition, Qu Yuan took his own life by jumping into the river after failing to persuade the king of Chu to adopt his counsel. His political failure and exile are believed to have contributed to the eventual decline of the Chu kingdom.
I remember that during the 1950s and 1960s, Chinese primary school textbooks placed great emphasis on teaching about historical heroes such as Qu Yuan and Yue Fei (岳飞). According to traditional accounts, Yue Fei, born in 1103, was physically strong, highly disciplined, and trained in both martial arts and classical scholarship. One famous story recorded in textbooks is that his mother tattooed four characters on his back - “精忠报国,” meaning “serve the country with utmost loyalty.”
Yue Fei was a celebrated general of the Song dynasty who led his forces in resisting the invading Jin armies from the north. Despite his loyalty and military achievements, he was betrayed by the corrupt official Qin Hui and was unjustly executed.
The film has resonated deeply with Chinese audiences around China and many southeast Asian countries because its story reflects a shared collective memory shaped by migration, separation, and family sacrifice. For many overseas Chinese families, its themes feel intensely personal. The experiences portrayed in the film mirror the journeys of countless Chinese migrants whose forefathers left China in search of better opportunities abroad, often enduring hardship, loneliness, and long periods of separation from their loved ones.
For my wife, whose maternal ancestors migrated from Chaoshan (潮汕) and whose grandfather came from Dongshan (东山), Fujian, to Malaya in the early 1900s, this shared history gave the film an even deeper emotional resonance. As she watched, the story became more than just a narrative on screen - it reflected the lived experiences of her own family.
For me, the film stirred powerful memories of both my paternal grandfather and maternal grandfather, who migrated from Guangdong to North Borneo in the early 1900s. Their journeys, struggles, and sacrifices echoed profoundly throughout the film, bringing to mind the hardships they endured and the resilience that shaped the generations that followed.
What makes the film especially powerful is its emotional authenticity. It captures the enduring bonds between generations, the sacrifices made in silence, and the emotional weight carried through letters, memories, and unspoken love. In many ways, Dear You is more than just a movie - it is a heartfelt tribute to the history, resilience, and emotional legacy of the Chinese diaspora.





































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