On the coldest winter night in New York, a taciturn Chinese takeaway boy, Chen Afu, delivered a hot home-cooked lunch box - braised pork with rice, pickled radish and a bowl of old fire soup to a president who lived alone. The president had never tasted such a simple but soul-piercing taste. As he ate, he burst into tears in the White House study. This bowl of rice reminded him of the warmth that his mother had cooked with the last bit of rice in the Vietnamese refugee camp during his childhood. From then on, the president secretly ordered lunch boxes every night, but Chen Afu didn't know that what he delivered was not rice, but forgotten nostalgia and the redemption of humanity.
