How a Stranger in Beijing Led Us to "Dear You"

We also spent two hours in the afternoon of Duan Wu Festival watching the highly acclaimed Chinese movie "Dear You" (给阿嬷的情书). This low-budget film, produced in China in the Teochew dialect with a production cost of only ¥14 million RMB (approximately RM9.0 million), has achieved extraordinary success. Since its release in April 2026, it has grossed ¥1.8 billion RMB (around RM1.12 billion) as of 19 June 2026 - an astonishing achievement for a regional, dialect-based family drama.

The story of how we came to know about this movie is equally fascinating. During our visit to Prince Gong’s Mansion in Beijing on 21 May 2026, we stopped at the man-made rocky garden. My wife sat on a bench for a brief rest, where a Chinese lady happened to be seated beside her.

She introduced herself as a local Beijinger, and upon learning that my wife was an overseas Chinese, she immediately began speaking about a movie she had recently watched - one that had deeply moved and captivated her. She shared that she had wept throughout much of the film. It had left such a profound impression on her that it changed the way she viewed overseas Chinese communities.

She explained that, after watching the movie, she gained a much deeper appreciation of the hardships and sacrifices endured by the forefathers of many overseas Chinese families. Their migration journeys were often marked by poverty, uncertainty, separation, and immense personal sacrifice, as they left their homeland in search of better opportunities abroad. Her words were sincere and heartfelt, and the emotional weight of her reflection was unmistakable.

That brief yet meaningful encounter stayed with us long after we left. It was that chance meeting in Beijing that eventually prompted us to watch Dear You for ourselves.

The film has resonated deeply with audiences across China and many parts of Southeast Asia because its story reflects a shared collective memory shaped by migration, separation, hardship, and familial 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 their ancestral homes in search of better opportunities abroad, often enduring poverty, loneliness, and prolonged separation from those they loved.

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 a narrative unfolding on screen - it became a reflection of her own family’s lived experiences and inherited memories.

That evening, she shared more about her family’s experiences during the late 1950s and early 1960s, when many parts of China were suffering from severe famine during the Great Leap Forward. The suffering in southern China was deeply felt by relatives overseas, who remained emotionally and financially tied to their ancestral hometowns despite the distance.

She recalled accompanying her paternal grandmother to BP town to send letters and money to relatives living in Dongshan. In those days, letter writing itself was often a communal service. Professional letter writers rented small corners in shop houses, helping those who were illiterate - or those who struggled to express difficult emotions in writing - compose messages to loved ones across the sea. 

She also vividly remembered one extraordinary act of care and sacrifice. At one point, the family slaughtered a pig, cooked the meat, preserved it in oil, and packed it tightly into several metal biscuit tins. The tins were then carefully soldered shut to preserve the contents for the long journey. They were shipped to China and eventually delivered to their ancestral hometown in Dongshan, where relatives facing food shortages received them as precious sustenance. To modern readers, such an act may seem almost unimaginable, but for families separated by migration, sending food was not merely charity - it was an expression of duty, love, and survival.

For me, the film stirred equally powerful memories of both my paternal and maternal grandfathers, who migrated from Guangdong to North Borneo in the early 1900s. Their journeys, struggles, and sacrifices echoed profoundly throughout the film. As I watched, I could not help but think of the hardships they endured - the uncertainty of leaving home, the struggle to build a life in unfamiliar lands, and the quiet resilience that enabled future generations to flourish.

What makes Dear You especially effective is its authenticity. It portrays the lasting connections between generations, the quiet sacrifices people make, and the significance of letters, memories, and unspoken care. The film shows that family history is often shaped not only by major events, but also by small acts of dedication - money carefully saved and sent home, letters written late at night, and food prepared with care for loved ones far away.

In many ways, Dear You is more than just a film. It serves as a tribute to the history, resilience, and legacy of the Chinese diaspora. It highlights that behind every migrant story are hardship and sacrifice, as well as lasting bonds that continue across distance and generations.