Is Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) Based on a True Story?

The success of director Lan Hongchun’s 2026 breakout film Dear You (给阿嬷的情书), a Teochew-dialect drama that crossed the ¥1 billion box office mark on the strength of its all-amateur cast and word-of-mouth praise, has left audiences asking one central question: is this incredible story of a decades-long benevolent lie based on a true story?

The short answer is no. Dear You is an original, fictional story, not a direct dramatization of a single, documented event. The director himself, Lan Hongchun (蓝鸿春), has been clear on this point, stating in an interview with the 21st Century Business Herald, "这个故事，并没有具体的原型" — "this story has no specific real-life prototype."

However, the film’s emotional pull and its 9.1 Douban rating come from its deep roots in historical truth. While the specific narrative of Xie Nanzhi ghost-writing letters for a deceased man for 18 years is a creation, it is inspired by the very real history of qiaopi (侨批)—the combined letter-and-remittance documents that were the lifeline for countless families in southern China. Lan Hongchun’s script is the culmination of years of documentary work, including his project 四海潮味 (Sìhǎi Cháowèi), for which he visited nearly 300 overseas-Chinese families and pored over thousands of real qiaopi letters. The film is not built on one true story but on hundreds of them, distilled into a single narrative. It is a fiction resting on a foundation of real, lived experience.

The film’s power lies in this very tension between its fictional heart and its factual backdrop. The story of one family becomes the story of an entire diaspora. It dramatizes the silent sacrifices of the liúshǒu fùnǚ (留守妇女), the "stay-behind wives" who raised generations on the promise of letters from abroad. It gives shape to the kind of empathy that could lead a stranger to keep up a lie to protect someone else's hope. One journalist claimed that "90%+ of the plot has real-life prototypes"; it is closer to say the plot is invented but the feelings behind it are not. They come from the collective memory of a people separated by sea and held together by letters.

将心比心 (jiāng xīn bǐ xīn) — "Empathy and Understanding"

Meaning: To put yourself in someone else's shoes; to see things from another's perspective.

Origin: The concept of 将心比心 (jiāng xīn bǐ xīn), literally "to take one's own heart to compare with another's," is a cornerstone of Confucian ethics. While the idea is ancient, the phrase is often attributed to the Southern Song dynasty scholar Zhu Xi in his work 《朱子语类·大学三》 (Conversations of Master Zhu, Classified by Topic). He used it to explain the principle of reciprocity and the importance of considering how your actions would feel if you were the one receiving them. It is the active, imaginative process of feeling what another feels.

Connection: This idiom is the moral engine of Dear You. It explains the decision made by the film's female lead, Xie Nanzhi (played by Li Sitong, 李思潼). In 1960, after the Chaoshan emigrant Zheng Musheng drowns while saving someone in a Thai river, Nanzhi is faced with a choice. She has a death notice ready to send back to his wife, Ye Shurou (叶淑柔), in China. But she hesitates. In that moment of hesitation, she performs the act of 将心比心. She imagines a young wife with children, an ocean away, her entire world sustained by the arrival of these letters. She envisions the hope draining from a family, the economic and emotional devastation that this single piece of paper will cause. And so, she pulls back the death notice and instead sends a píng'ān pī (平安批)—a "safety letter"—in his name. This single act of empathy launches an 18-year deception, where Nanzhi not only writes letters but also sends her own money to sustain a family she has never met. Her whole life turns on that choice — one made not from logic but from empathy.

Use it: When mediating a conflict or offering advice, the first step is always to practice jiāng xīn bǐ xīn and truly understand the perspectives of all involved.

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雪中送炭 (xuě zhōng sòng tàn) — "Help in Time of Need"

Meaning: To provide timely and crucial assistance to someone in dire straits.

Origin: Literally meaning "to send charcoal in the snow," this idiom originates from the Song Dynasty. The phrase is found in the work 《宋史·太宗纪》 (History of Song, Annals of Emperor Taizong), which records the emperor's concern for the poor during a harsh winter. He ordered officials to distribute rice and charcoal to the freezing citizens of the capital. The image is stark: in the dead of winter, when warmth is a matter of life and death, a gift of fuel is worth far more than a gift of gold in summer. It signifies help that is not just welcome, but essential for survival.

Connection: The entire qiaopi system, the historical bedrock of the film, was a form of 雪中送炭. As detailed in our article on the real history of qiaopi, these remittances were often the sole source of income for families in the emigrant homelands of Chaoshan. But in Dear You, the idiom takes on a deeper meaning. After Zheng Musheng's death, the money Ye Shurou receives is no longer from her husband. It is from Xie Nanzhi. For 18 years, from 1960 to 1978, a young Thai-Chinese woman single-handedly supports two families. This is 雪中送炭 in its purest form. She provides the fuel that keeps the Zheng family alive, shielding them from a reality they don't even know they are facing. The money is not a gift; it is a lifeline, sent quietly, year after year, across a generation.

Use it: True friendship is measured not by celebrating successes, but by your willingness to practice xuě zhōng sòng tàn during someone's darkest hour.

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患难与共 (huàn nàn yǔ gòng) — "Solidarity in Hardship"

Meaning: To share trials and tribulations together; to go through thick and thin with someone.

Origin: This idiom’s roots are in the Confucian classic 《礼记》 (Book of Rites), which outlines principles of social conduct. The concept of sharing burdens, particularly among scholars and officials, was seen as a key virtue. The phrase itself, composed of 患 (huàn, trouble), 难 (nàn, difficulty), 与 (yǔ, with), and 共 (gòng, together), conveys a deep sense of mutual support and shared destiny. It describes a bond that is not merely social, but forged in the crucible of adversity.

Connection: In Dear You, the Zheng and Xie families are bound in a state of 患难与共 for decades without ever meeting. They share the same core hardship—the loss of Zheng Musheng—but experience it from opposite sides of a secret. Ye Shurou endures the long, quiet suffering of a wife separated from her husband. Xie Nanzhi endures the lonely burden of maintaining the secret, sacrificing her own resources to protect a stranger's peace of mind. They are two pillars supporting the same invisible roof. When the truth is finally revealed at the end of the film, the families do not fracture. Instead, they formalize the bond that has always existed, becoming sworn kin (结拜). This act recognizes that they have, in fact, been sharing this burden together all along. Their solidarity was real, even when it was unknown.

Use it: A successful partnership, whether in business or marriage, is defined by a commitment to huàn nàn yǔ gòng, facing every challenge as a united front.

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风雨同舟 (fēng yǔ tóng zhōu) — "Share Hardships Together"

Meaning: To stick together through storms and crises, implying a shared journey and mutual reliance.

Origin: This evocative idiom, meaning to "share a boat in wind and rain," traces to The Art of War (《孙子·九地》) by Sun Tzu in the Warring States period. He observed that the people of Wu and Yue, though bitter enemies, would cooperate "like the left and right hand" if caught in the same boat crossing a river in a storm. The image is a vivid one of people in a small vessel, where shared danger dissolves all differences. In such a situation, individual survival depends entirely on collective cooperation. Personal differences become irrelevant; all that matters is keeping the boat afloat. The idiom emphasizes the intimacy and absolute trust required to navigate shared adversity.

Connection: The image of 风雨同舟 perfectly captures the intertwined fates of the two women at the film’s center: Ye Shurou in Chaoshan and Xie Nanzhi in Thailand. Though separated by the South China Sea, they are metaphorically in the same boat, tossed by the same storm of loss and longing. The film's creators embedded this connection in the very names of the characters, a symbolic structure you can read more about in our guide to the names of Dear You. The grandfather is Zheng Musheng (郑木生), containing the character for "wood" (木). The grandmother is Ye Shurou (叶淑柔), whose surname means "leaf" (叶). And the letter-writer is Xie Nanzhi (谢南枝), whose name means "southern branch" (枝). As a Sohu cultural feature noted, the branch is what connects the wood and the leaf. Xie Nanzhi is the structural link, the boat itself, holding the two parts of the family together as they weather the storm of separation and death.

Use it: When a team faces a crisis, a leader must remind them that they are all in a state of fēng yǔ tóng zhōu and must row together to reach the shore.

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不远千里 (bù yuǎn qiān lǐ) — "Willingly Travel Far"

Meaning: To not consider a thousand li (miles) to be far; to make a great effort to travel a long distance for a worthy purpose.

Origin: This phrase comes directly from the classic text 《孟子》 (Mencius). In the opening passage, King Hui of Liang greets the philosopher Mencius by saying, "Venerable sir, you have not considered a thousand li too far to come here." The King implies that Mencius has undertaken a long and arduous journey, but Mencius’s presence shows that he found the purpose of the journey—to advise the ruler on benevolence and righteousness—to be worth the distance. The idiom thus carries a sense of purpose and determination that makes physical distance seem trivial.

Connection: The modern-day plot of Dear You is set in motion by the grandson, Xiaowei (郑润奇), who embodies this idiom. Hearing rumors that the grandfather he never met is a wealthy "billionaire" in Thailand, the debt-ridden Xiaowei decides to travel there to find him. He is the modern echo of his grandfather, who once made the same journey south to "下南洋" (go to the Southern Seas). Xiaowei’s journey is an act of 不远千里, though his initial motivations are selfish. Yet, this journey becomes transformative. Traveling a thousand miles to find a fortune, he instead finds a story of sacrifice and quiet compassion. His physical travel across borders mirrors his internal journey from a cynical youth to a man who understands his family’s legacy. He travels far not for money, but to uncover a truth that ultimately allows his grandfather’s spirit tablet to be brought home, fulfilling the deepest wish of every overseas Chinese: 落叶归根 (luò yè guī gēn), for the fallen leaves to return to their roots. Director Lan Hongchun made a version of that journey himself, spending years traveling and interviewing diaspora families before he wrote the film — you can read about it in our profile, Who Is Lan Hongchun (蓝鸿春)?.

Use it: A true devotee will practice bù yuǎn qiān lǐ, traveling across continents on a pilgrimage to a sacred site.