... The hard-working and kind-hearted Xin came to Saigon as a female lotus-picker. Every morning, they sit in boats to pick lotus flowers in the lake, and the white lotus flowers are spread to the horizon in layers. There is a large temple-like house in the middle of the lake. Xin heard that Mr. Du, the owner of the lotus pond, lives in it. Mr. Du stayed at home all year round, and they had never seen him. Xin was reluctant to sing those sad songs with them. She sang alone the songs her mother taught her, and the song drifted in the lotus pond with a faint fragrance, which was touching.
That night, Mr. Du called Xin over and wanted to hear her sing the song again. It turned out that Mr. Du was a poet, and after suffering from leprosy, he described him as ugly and was despised by the world. He also lost a finger and was in so much pain that he could no longer write poetry. And Xin's singing gave him the inspiration to write poetry again. At Xin's begging, Mr. Du finally agreed to let Xin be his hand and write down his writings for him. It's just that fewer and fewer people like fresh white lotus flowers, and people are holding plastic flowers that never wilt. And Mr. Du's life has come to an end. Fortunately, Youxin gave him hope and comfort at the last moment of his life. Xin followed Mr. Du's dream and sprinkled countless white lotus flowers on the ancient and long Mekong River...
Hai is a tricycle driver, living a poor and simple life, with a gentle and honest temperament. Lian is a prostitute who often picks up jobs in palatial hotels, wearing heavy makeup all day long. Hai fell in love with Lian at first sight, so he waited at the door of the hotel every night, waiting to take her home. Hai wins a tricycle race and buys her a night with the winnings. When they went to the luxury hotel, he didn't want her to undress, he just gave her a long white dress, begged her to take off her makeup and put it on again, and then watched her fall asleep until dawn. Although she was covered in dust, she was pure as an angel in his heart.
Lian also began to fall in love with him, but pushed him away roughly, because she didn't want to live a miserable life like her mother. He stubbornly went to her and helped her who was suffering from heat stroke to scrape. Their feelings slowly overflowed like sweat in this sultry dry season. He blindfolded her and took her to the trail full of phoenix trees. Dressed in a white dress, she washed away the lead and turned around in the red flowers in the sky, and he was full of relief. He handed her the book he used to read and said, "With this, you don't have to force a smile."
James has been in Saigon for several weeks, but he has never found his daughter. The rubbish-picking girl meets the kind-hearted boy Woody, and their eyes are full of sorrow and earnestness. One day in a bar, James saw a Vietnam-era lighter in Woody's suitcase, and he couldn't help confiding in Woody. After the power outage at the bar, James was not seated, and Woody lost his living box.
Woody thinks James stole the box and looks for him in his raincoat. Woody eventually found him at the hotel, but he denied stealing the box. When James finally gave up the search and went to the bar for his last night, he saw his daughter professionally dealing with a man's obscene kiss on the other end of the table. James couldn't help but burst into tears. He invited her to sit down at the restaurant, gave her a bouquet of white lotus flowers, and told her about the past. While Woody was playing football with the homeless, he found a drunk sleeping with his suitcase in the trash. He finally retrieved the box, and he was accompanied by a girl who could share the cake with him...
Whether it was a once-intoxicated colonial career, an exotic romance intoxicated by the spring breeze, or a lingering nightmare of war, Saigon is still Saigon - a perfect fusion of European culture and Southeast Asian characteristics, with a strong humidity in the noise, a Saigon that nurtures love and desire, exudes detachment and sorrow, and is full of bright colors, a city full of memories. . Poverty brings grief, but it also produces hope, comfort, and love. Even in the cruelest years, we still retain the most beautiful human nature, tenacious vitality and good expectations for life. I believe that the souls that have fallen into the dust will be redeemed in deep love, that the dusty poetry will be revived in the sound of clear songs, and that the wandering children can find their spiritual home... When the river of life flows by the side , we will try to write them into lines, and the slow-growing hope will leap from note to note, like a white lotus blossoming one after another.
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