I bet the subject movie was the film Zhang Yimou made in his incipient stage as a director. People may say the movie was a kind of Communist propaganda tinted with patriotism and dogmatism. I’d rather say it was a reflection of the climate then, a demonstration of the Zeitgeist in the 1960s or 1970s. But I think the background of the movie was not the motif Zhang had intended to focus on; he was trying to illustrate the greatness of true love. No matter whether two lovers are riding on a ritzy Mercedes convertible or on a shaky bicycle with one sitting pillion, as long as they love each other with true, pure, and honest hearts, their affections should do them great credit.

The eyes of most audience members would have moistened when they finally watched the woeful scene in which the scalding tears of the dying male protagonist trickled down his still handsome but radiation-stricken face as he, unconsciously, heard his deeply loved one, who was wearing a red blouse made of the cloth that he gave her, tenderly calling his name beside the deathbed.

I recognized the word "hawthorn" when I was in Los Angeles during the mid-80s. I used to live on Hawthorn Street in an apartment.