In the twenty-sixth year of the Republic of China, A Sheng, a bamboo craftsman, was drafted into the army, leaving his wife A Xiu alone to guard the empty house. Three years later, a military mail arrived. Axiu was illiterate, and all she could see was the red color spreading all over the paper - that was the color of wedding invitations, the color of marriage certificates, the color of New Year window decorations, red silk for weddings, and red flowers for celebrations. So she locked the blood letter into the dowry camphor wood box and stacked it with the letters home from Ah Sheng. She laughed at everyone: The army sent a marriage letter, and Ah Sheng was coming back.
The people in the town couldn't bear to break the blue seal on the "death notice". The postman walked around her house, and the women turned their backs and wiped away their tears. Aunt Li came and went, clutching the handkerchief, and swallowed her words. But Ah Xiu was so happy, cleaning the east room, drying the bedding, cutting window grilles and pasting them on the wall, living her life as if Ah Sheng would come back tomorrow.
With the simplest faith, she turned a death notice into a wedding invitation. The war was burning in the distance, the letters were interrupted on the way, lies and good intentions were woven into a web, and she chose to be trapped in the red dream, waiting for a returnee who would not return. The stream at Qingshidu was still flowing, and the leaves of the camphor tree turned yellow and fell. She stood under the tree and held the blood letter to her chest, smiling and saying, "This is the marriage letter."
Even if no one else in the world believed it, she would believe it.
