Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) and the Real History of Qiaopi (侨批): The Overseas Letters Behind the Film
2026-05-29
The 2026 hit Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) is built on qiaopi—the remittance letters overseas Chinese sent home. Here is the real, UNESCO-listed history behind the film.
In spring 2026, a low-budget film shot mostly in the Teochew dialect did something almost no one expected. With no stars, little marketing, and a budget of around ¥10-14 million, Dear You (给阿嬷的情书, Gěi Ā-mà de Qíngshū) spread by word of mouth to a 9.1 rating on Douban and crossed ¥1 billion at the box office on May 24, just 15 days after its nationwide release. It follows a family in Chaoshan, Guangdong, kept afloat for decades by letters and money from a grandfather, Zheng Musheng, who left for Thailand in the 1940s. When his grandson Xiaowei goes looking for him, he uncovers a secret that changes what the family thought it knew about love and duty.
The emotional core of the film, and the reason it struck such a nerve, is a piece of history little known outside southern China: the qiaopi (侨批). These "overseas-Chinese letters" were more than correspondence: they were the economic and emotional lifeline connecting millions of emigrants to the families they left behind. To understand Dear You, you first have to understand the world of the qiaopi.
A qiaopi was a unique, dual-purpose document: a letter and a remittance in one. The system flourished from the 19th century until 1979, primarily serving families in the emigrant heartlands of Guangdong and Fujian. The name itself is a key to its regional identity. While the standard Mandarin word for a letter is 信 (xìn), in the Minnan and Teochew dialects spoken in these regions, a letter is a 批 (pī). A qiaopi was specifically a letter from 侨 (qiáo), or overseas Chinese. These were not just letters; they were letters from abroad. They were a "safety remittance" (平安批, píng'ān pī) that carried not only cash but the priceless confirmation that a husband, son, or father was still alive and well, thousands of miles across the sea. The film's Chinese title, A Love Letter to Grandma, deliberately elevates this by using the term 情书 (qíngshū, love letter), reframing decades of dutiful remittance as an act of enduring love, a theme explored in depth in our explanation of the film's title and names.
For the millions who left Chaoshan, a region historically marked by scarce arable land and social instability, emigration was not a choice but a necessity. The decision to leave was a deep rupture, cutting against one of China's oldest instincts.
安土重迁 (ān tǔ zhòng qiān) — "Content with Soil, Reluctant to Move"
Meaning: To be attached to one's native land and unwilling to move.
Origin: This phrase appears in the Book of Han (汉书), in the biography of the official Yuan Ang (元盎). It captures the essence of a settled agricultural society where land (土, tǔ) was the source of all life and stability. To be content with one's soil (安土, ān tǔ) and to view moving as a grave matter (重迁, zhòng qiān) was the default state. Relocation meant leaving behind not just a home, but ancestral graves, community ties, and a spiritual connection to the land itself.
Connection: The character Zheng Musheng embodies the painful choice to defy this instinct. Like millions of Teochew men who boarded the "red-head boats" (红头船, hóngtóuchuán) at Zhanglin port, he did not leave because he wanted to, but because he had to. The film portrays his departure not as an adventure but as something closer to desperation, a tearing away from the world he was meant to stay in. That reluctance is what gives weight to his promise to return — the promise that hangs over the whole story.
Use it: Use this idiom to describe a deep-seated preference for stability and a resistance to leaving one's familiar environment.
The pain of this departure is captured in a near-synonymous phrase that speaks more to the emotional toll of the act itself.
故土难离 (gù tǔ nán lí) — "Native Soil Hard to Leave"
Meaning: It is difficult to leave one's homeland.
Origin: This idiom expresses a timeless sentiment found throughout Chinese poetry and literature. It describes the emotional gravity of one's native soil (故土, gù tǔ), which makes leaving (离, lí) feel difficult or unnatural (难, nán). It speaks to the invisible threads that bind a person to their place of birth—the food, the dialect, the landscape, the collective memory. It is the feeling behind the famous line from the Han-dynasty Nineteen Old Poems: "The Yue (southern) bird nests on the southern branch" (越鸟巢南枝, yuè niǎo cháo nán zhī).
Connection: In Dear You, this feeling is the silent engine of the entire qiaopi system. The decades of remittances sent by men like Zheng Musheng were driven by an unquenchable attachment to the homeland they found so hard to leave. The money was sent to build homes, schools, and ancestral halls in the villages they still considered their true homes, even after a lifetime abroad. The film's central "benevolent lie" is itself an act rooted in this principle: Xie Nanzhi continues the letters because she understands that for the grandmother, Ye Shurou, the connection to her husband and his promise to return is a connection to the integrity of her own world.
Use it: This phrase is used to articulate the deep, often sorrowful, emotional attachment one feels for their hometown or country when facing the prospect of leaving.
The qiaopi system was not run by banks or governments, but by a network of trust built on shared origins. It relied on two key figures: the 水客 (shuǐkè, "water guests")—itinerant couriers, often sailors from the home villages—who physically carried bundles of letters and cash across the South China Sea, and the 批局 (pījú), or remittance houses. These houses, both in Southeast Asia and in Chaoshan, were run by trusted community members who could verify a recipient's identity through village and family details. The whole enterprise ran on community solidarity.
守望相助 (shǒu wàng xiāng zhù) — "Keep Watch and Aid One Another"
Meaning: For members of a community to help and protect each other.
Origin: The concept comes from the Mencius (孟子), which describes an ideal state where communities "keep watch and aid one another, and support each other in illness." It reflects a foundational principle of Confucian social organization: the idea that a village or neighborhood functions as an extended family, bound by mutual obligation. It is the practical application of kinship and clan loyalty.
Connection: The qiaopi network is a perfect historical example of 守望相助. A man in Bangkok could hand his earnings and a letter to a 水客, trusting that this near-stranger from his home county would brave the seas and deliver it safely to his wife. The 批局 in Shantou would disburse the funds, knowing the recipient was the correct person because they were part of the same web of kinship. In Dear You, this principle is extended across generations and even between strangers. Xie Nanzhi, a Thai-Chinese woman, takes it upon herself to "keep watch" over a family she has never met, protecting a widow's hope out of a sense of shared humanity and responsibility.
Use it: Use this idiom to describe acts of mutual support, neighborhood watches, or any situation where a community bands together for collective security and well-being.
This system became so vital that in 2013, UNESCO officially inscribed the "Qiaopi and Yinxin Correspondence and Remittance Documents from Overseas Chinese" onto the Memory of the World Register. The Shantou Archives alone holds over 92,000 of these documents. Estimates suggest that over 30 million qiaopi were sent between the 1860s and 1980, carrying a value of over US$10 billion that fundamentally shaped the economy and landscape of southern China.
But for all its economic impact, the true weight of the qiaopi was emotional. It fell upon the shoulders of the 留守妇女 (liúshǒu fùnǚ), the "stay-behind wives" who raised children, cared for elders, and managed households for years, sometimes a lifetime, on the strength of these thin sheets of paper. The grandmother in the film, Ye Shurou, is the archetype of these women.
含辛茹苦 (hán xīn rú kǔ) — "Swallow Bitterness and Eat Hardship"
Meaning: To endure immense hardship and suffering, often for the sake of others.
Origin: This idiom has roots in classical literature, with its components appearing in various texts. The poet Su Shi (苏轼) of the Song Dynasty used a similar phrase to describe a mother's suffering. It combines 含辛 (hán xīn), to hold bitterness (like a pungent herb) in the mouth, and 茹苦 (rú kǔ), to eat something bitter. The image is one of actively consuming and enduring pain and difficulty without complaint.
Connection: Ye Shurou’s life is a quiet portrait of 含辛茹苦. For decades, she raises her family alone, her only connection to her husband a periodic letter and a sum of money. The film captures the constant, low-level anxiety of waiting for the next qiaopi—the fear that a delay might mean illness, accident, or abandonment. Her perseverance is not loud or dramatic; it is steady, silent, a life given over to her family on the strength of those letters. The later revelation that the letters were a compassionate fiction for 18 years only deepens what her endurance cost. The "true story" behind the film, as director Lan Hongchun explains, is not one specific event but an amalgamation of hundreds of such family histories of sacrifice.
Use it: This phrase is typically used to describe the long-term, selfless suffering of parents or caregivers who sacrifice for their children or family.
The qiaopi was a two-way channel of duty. The men abroad sent money home not only to support their families but also to fulfill their filial obligations, funding the construction of schools and ancestral halls. For the families at home, the money was a lifeline that carried with it a constant reminder of its source, a loved one toiling in a foreign land. This reciprocal sense of gratitude is a cornerstone of Chinese family ethics.
饮水思源 (yǐn shuǐ sī yuán) — "When Drinking Water, Remember the Source"
Meaning: To be grateful for one's blessings and remember where they came from.
Origin: The phrase was popularized by the Northern Zhou Dynasty writer Yu Xin (庾信) in the 6th century. In his composition "徵调曲," he wrote, "落其实者思其树, 饮其流者怀其源" (Those who eat the fruit think of the tree; those who drink the stream cherish its source). The idiom distills this into a four-character reminder of gratitude. It teaches that one should never forget the origins of their success, fortune, or even basic sustenance.
Connection: In Dear You, this idiom operates on multiple levels. The entire life of the Zheng family in Chaoshan is an act of 饮水思源; they are sustained by the "stream" of remittances from Thailand, and their lives are oriented around the memory of its "source," the patriarch Zheng Musheng. On a deeper level, the grandson Xiaowei's journey is a quest to find this source. Initially motivated by a rumor of a "billionaire grandfather," he changes when he discovers that the true source of his family's survival was not wealth but the compassion of a stranger, Xie Nanzhi. What he learns is that the real "source" of his heritage is sacrifice and human kindness, not money. The film itself, which was screened at the Marché du Film at the Cannes Film Festival on May 15, 2026, serves as an act of 饮水思源, reminding a new generation of the sacrifices of their ancestors.
Use it: Use this idiom to express gratitude for your blessings and to remind others to remember the people and origins behind their good fortune.
Related Chinese Idioms
Similar idioms about wisdom & learning
融会贯通
róng huì guàn tōng
Master something completely
Learn more →
学海无涯
xué hǎi wú yá
Learning is limitless
Learn more →
知行合一
zhī xíng hé yī
Practice what you know
Learn more →
举一反三
jǔ yī fǎn sān
Learn many from one example
Learn more →
温故知新
wēn gù zhī xīn
Learn new through studying old
Learn more →
画龙点睛
huà lóng diǎn jīng
Add crucial finishing touch
Learn more →
读万卷书
dú wàn juǎn shū
Read extensively for knowledge
Learn more →
抛砖引玉
pāo zhuān yǐn yù
Offer modest view to inspire better
Learn more →
The Dear You Universe
More about Dear You (给阿嬷的情书)
What Does 阿嬷 Mean? The Chinese Title of Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) and Its Names Explained
阿嬷 is the Teochew word for grandma — and the heart of Dear You's Chinese title 给阿嬷的情书. We break down the title, the dialect, and the characters' names.
Is Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) Based on a True Story?
Is Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) a true story? Short answer: it is original fiction inspired by real qiaopi history and 300+ interviews — not one real event. Here's the full picture.
Who Is Lan Hongchun (蓝鸿春)? The Director Behind Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) and His Chaoshan Trilogy
Before Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) made ¥1 billion, director Lan Hongchun spent a decade on tiny Teochew-dialect films. Meet the man and his Chaoshan trilogy.
Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) Ending Explained: Is It a Happy or Sad Ending?
Is Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) a happy or sad ending? Bittersweet. We unpack the 18-year secret, the truth revealed, and the twist that the letters were never a romance.
Famous Lines from Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) Explained
The most moving lines from Dear You (给阿嬷的情书) — the ghost-written qiaopi letters — explained in Chinese with pinyin, English, and the idioms behind their feeling.
More Chinese Dramas