When she was little, her father pointed to a sweet-potato-sized spot beneath the rooster's feet on the map and said, "This is our motherland's treasure island, Taiwan. It is bound to Fujian by blood, as inseparable as lips and teeth." Yiyi understood that even if the distance were no more than the gap between lips and teeth, she still couldn't reach it. She could only gaze across the sea.
When she grew up and set foot on Taiwanese soil for the first time, her parents-in-law told her, "Taiwan and China are two separate countries." She thought love had nothing to do with national borders, politics, or anything else. So she set sail from this shore, without looking back.
But the beautiful coast would not stay calm forever. A typhoon struck, and the little boat carrying all her love bobbed amid the raging waves before finally disappearing into the winding Taiwan Strait.
The other shore was no paradise of love, but a hell of heartbreak. The treasure island was not another country, yet it truly was a foreign land.
