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.

Remembering Heroes, Honouring Everyday Greatness

This year on 19 June 2026 (Lunar 5 May), I noticed that the number of Zongzi Festival greeting cards shared in WhatsApp chat groups increased significantly compared with previous years. One former classmate even commented while sharing one of such greeting cards, “We Sabahan Chinese still remember our roots and remain very much Chinese, as we continue to observe our traditional customs.”

For me, when my parents were still alive, it was customary for our family to gather for a reunion dinner at their home whenever the Duan Wu Festival or Dumpling Festival arrived. That tradition ceased after they passed away. For our generation, maintaining such practices has become increasingly difficult, especially as many of our children have moved abroad and settled in different countries.

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.

For his treachery, Qin Hui’s legacy has become synonymous with shame and humiliation. This is vividly symbolized by the kneeling iron statues of Qin Hui and his wife placed before Yue Fei’s tomb in Hangzhou. I still remember our trip to Hangzhou, China in September 2014. At Yue Fei’s tomb, we witnessed tourists slapping or striking these statues as they paid their respects to Yue Fei. It remains one of the most powerful examples of public condemnation of wrongdoing that I have ever witnessed - where, even centuries after death, a person continues to be remembered with enduring disgrace.

Yet, such powerful reminders of corruption and betrayal do not seem sufficient to deter others from repeating the same mistakes. As I have pointed out before, there is no shortage of corrupt leaders and individuals, not only in China but throughout the world even today.

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A day earlier, I had the privilege of sharing with the Golden Joy Senior Citizen Fellowship Group during the pre-Father’s Day celebration. As most of the audience were seniors who have now reached the cherished stage of being grandparents, the emphasis of my sharing was on affirming that although many of them may see their lives as simple and ordinary, they have in fact achieved something extraordinary. Through years of perseverance, sacrifice, love, and faithful commitment to their families and communities, they have built legacies that continue to shape future generations. Their lives stand as a powerful reminder that greatness is often found not in fame or recognition, but in quiet faithfulness and enduring impact.

Revisiting 1978: Where My Engineering Journey Began

The other day, 21.04.2026, while having yamcha with an old friend, Jeffrey Lo, we spent quite some time reminiscing about the past - from our university days to the very first jobs we landed after graduation.

I shared with him that soon after completing my studies at the University of Malaya in early 1978, I went to see the then Director of Jabatan Kerja Raya (JKR) at the JKR headquarters in Sembulan, the late Datuk K.S. Fung. To my surprise, the Director asked me to start work almost immediately. I was posted on secondment to the site office at Kota Kinabalu International Airport, where I worked alongside the British consulting engineers, Scott Wilson Kirkpatrick, who had been appointed to design and supervise the construction of the new taxiway and the new terminal building (Read here).

While discussing the construction of the KK International Airport terminal building, Jeffrey recalled that the earthworks contractor responsible for the taxiway and site preparation for the new terminal was Goh Brothers. I then remembered that this was. In fact, it was a joint venture between Goh Brothers and Syarikat Berjaya.

He mentioned the name Law Keng Hatt as the main building contractor, but the name did not sound quite right. After giving it further thought, I recalled that Lim Kah Ngam (Malaysia) Sdn Bhd - an established building contractor from West Malaysia at the time - was actually appointed as the main building contractor.

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Talking about my very first job, I can’t help but revisit those old photographs taken at the airport project site where I served as the Assistant Resident Engineer for the site supervision team. For a young engineer, witnessing a water-logged swamp - constantly influenced by tidal fluctuations - gradually transformed into a vast stretch of reclaimed land for a terminal building and taxiway was nothing short of magical. It was not only a memorable chapter of my early career, but also a powerful lesson in what engineering vision and teamwork can achieve.

I was recalled to work at JKR Headquarters in 1982, just before the new terminal building was fully completed. The terminal, located at the southeast end of the runway, was finished shortly thereafter and began serving the growing needs of air travel in Sabah.

With the steady rise in air traffic and the corresponding increase in passenger arrivals and departures over the years, the terminal later underwent a major upgrade and expansion between 2005 and 2009 to enhance its capacity, facilities, and operational efficiency.

Reuniting Over Lunch: Praise Kids Old-Time Volunteers

These days, whenever invitations from old friends arrive, whether for a simple meal or an informal get-together, we are far more inclined to accept them. As the years pass, such gatherings take on added significance, becoming precious opportunities to reconnect, remember and reflect on a shared past.

So, when friends who once served as teachers and helpers in our church’s Praise Kids ministry invited us to lunch at Hoola Hoop Cafe on 15.12.2025, we did not hesitate to join them.

Before this gathering, the last time some of these former teachers and helpers came together was at Kerry Lo’s home on 09.04.2023, where we enjoyed a sumptuous dinner. Each reunion, separated by years rather than months, serves as a gentle reminder of the passage of time and the enduring bonds forged through years of service.

It is only natural that, on such occasions, conversations turn to memories of our days in Praise Kids, formerly known as Children Sunday School and renamed as Praise Kids Celebration in 1999. Those years were not merely programmes or weekly routines, but a formative period marked by dedication, sacrifice and a shared sense of purpose.

The transition from Children Sunday School to Praise Kids Celebration represented an important chapter in the ministry’s history. It signalled a shift in vision and approach, accompanied by significant changes in manpower mobilisation, deployment and involvement. What had once been a largely church-based teaching ministry expanded into a broader outreach, intentionally drawing in children beyond the church community. Over time, activities and events were held in various venues, including halls and church buildings, and on one memorable occasion, at the auditorium of Wisma Berjaya - later acquired by SESB.

The ministry also became a place where young people were nurtured into service. Many teenagers, including our two sons, Samuel and Paul along with their peers, schoolmates and friends, were roped in to assist during major events. Among the most fondly remembered was the Super Space Party in the early 2000s, which brought together enthusiastic volunteers whose youthful energy added life and colour to the ministry.

The most recent get-together of former and current teachers and helpers on 15.12.2025.

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An earlier gathering at Kerry's residence on 09.04.2023.

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As with any reunion, it was only natural that old photographs were taken out, shared and fondly revisited with those who once laboured together in the ministry. Each image stirred memories of laughter, dedication and shared purpose. Yet woven into these moments of remembrance was a quiet sadness, for some among us have since departed and are now present only in memory.

Pastor Dannie Lee, the key motivator and guiding force during the pioneering years of Praise Kids in 1999 to 2001, was called home on 14.02.2019. Her encouragement and commitment laid a strong foundation for the ministry and left an enduring mark on all who served alongside her.

We also remembered Chio Cheng Leng, one of the two male teachers who faithfully served in those early days until early 2020s when illness prevented him from further service. He passed away on 10.03.2023. His presence, dedication to the children, and willingness to serve steadfastly are still fondly remembered by many.

Group photo of the whole team of teachers, helpers and volunteers after the Outer Space Party. 

Photo of my wife taken with Pastor Dannie Lee at the Outer Space Party.

A young boy who asked to have a photo taken with the "magician".

Final briefing just before the commencement of Outer Space Party.

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The major shift from the traditional children’s Sunday School format to the Praise Kids Celebration lay in a renewed emphasis on teaching through object lessons and creative presentation. Lessons were no longer confined to the classroom alone. Instead, they were brought to life through narratives, dramatizations and performances that enlivened special occasions while gently imparting values and faith-based teachings. Together, these creative expressions marked a significant transformation in the ministry, reflecting a deliberate effort to make learning joyful, impactful, and memorable, while remaining rooted in visual, interactive and engaging approaches that left a lasting impression on young hearts and minds. 

Teachers would sometimes dress up in costumes that complemented the theme of the lesson, transforming themselves into characters that vividly illustrated biblical truths in a lively and relatable manner. These visual cues not only captured the children’s attention but also helped make the messages easier to understand and remember.

Magic shows were occasionally incorporated as another creative teaching approach, not for mere entertainment, but as a meaningful tool to illustrate spiritual principles in ways that resonated with young minds. Out of necessity, I volunteered and stepped into the role of a magician, using simple illusions to convey timeless lessons. To this day, some of those children, now grown, still greet me fondly as “The Magician” whenever we meet - a reminder of how deeply those moments stayed with them.

Puppet shows were also held from time to time, serving both as an effective storytelling medium and as an outreach effort to draw in new children. Through humour, dialogue and simple yet engaging performances, biblical truths and moral lessons were conveyed in a way that was easily understood and warmly received by young audiences, while remaining firmly rooted in their spiritual purpose.

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Year 2000 Christmas celebration at Basel Hall.

Pastor Dannie Lee.

Chio Cheng Leng and Alfred Lee, the only two male teachers in this ministry.

Object lesson through magic show.

Puppets show.

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In 2002 during the Harvest Festival holidays at the end of May and early June, the Praise Kids ministry’s outreach extended beyond the city when an out-of-town trip was organised to Nabawan, with a stop at BCCM, Keningau. Looking back today, these moments stand as milestones in the history of Praise Kids, memories of a season when faith, friendship and service intersected, leaving an enduring legacy in the lives of all who were part of it.

Above two photos: At BCCM, Keningau.

Above two photos: At BCCM Nabawan.

November 2025 - A Month Etched in Both Celebration and Sorrow

November 2025 will be remembered as a month filled with extraordinary events. On 26.11.2025, my grandson Nathan, proudly shared by his mother, began shaving for the very first time. It may seem like a small, quiet act but it carries deep meaning. Shaving marks a boy’s gradual transition into adolescence and eventually adulthood. It symbolizes the shift from dependence toward autonomy, responsibility and individuality.

Just two days later, Nathan boarded a flight with his classmates, leaving his hometown for an 8D7N school trip to Sydney and Canberra. Watching him embark on this journey filled me with both pride and nostalgia.

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His trip also stirred memories of my own very first visit to Sydney many years ago. It was back in August 1993, when my wife and I brought our three children on a tour to Australia, with Sydney as one of our stops. Serene, Nathan’s mother was slightly younger than Nathan is now.

It’s incredible how swiftly time moves. One generation grows up, and another begins the same journeys in their own way. Moments like these remind me of the gentle, beautiful continuity of life, how our stories echo through our children, and how every new milestone carries a piece of the past forward.

At the Sydney Opera House.

At Sydney Harbour Bridge.

At the Three Sisters rock formation in Blue Mountains.

At the Wildlife Park in Sydney.

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On that very same day when Nathan shaved for the first time, news broke around the world of the deadliest fire in decades at the Wang Fuk Court apartment complex in Tai Po District, Hong Kong. The tragedy claimed 146 lives and left 76 injured.

In the days that followed, heart-wrenching accounts from survivors emerged. One survivor expressed her anguish with words that deeply pierced the heart: “Forty years’ worth of memories have all been lost… All the old photos of my children are gone. It’s hard to recall what they looked like as kids, and that’s the most painful.”

Her grief was not only about the physical loss of possessions, but the irreplaceable disappearance of cherished memories, the moments captured in photographs that once preserved the faces, smiles and childhood of her children.

Hearing her words, I could almost feel the weight of her sorrow. To imagine living out the rest of one’s life without the comfort of those precious images is profoundly heartbreaking. It is a reminder of how fragile our keepsakes are, and how deeply they are tied to our sense of history, identity and family.

This incident serves as a powerful reminder to safeguard old photos not only in albums, but also through digital backups - in clouds, personal archives, blogs or other secure platforms.