Leaving Shang: Locking Nanyang

The land is barren, and the love and hatred of our ancestors when they went to Southeast Asia to make a living. The war broke out, and my grandfather died in a foreign land. My grandmother stayed in the old house for half a century, locking letters from Southeast Asia, silver coins and despair into an iron box. Half a century later, the Thai uncle returned home, and the brothers recognized each other on their deathbed. Grandma never opened the door until she died. The rusty lock was finally opened, revealing the blood, tears, silver coins and unsent letters from home - the box of unopened expectations has become a cold monument of a hundred years of separation.