At first glance, Dihua (78) and Fubin (80) seem like an unlikely pair. Fubin, a quiet and reserved man, has never uttered the words "I love you" aloud, while Dihua, lively and outspoken, has always been his opposite. Yet, their story, deeply rooted in the Sichuan culture they cherish, is a tender reminder that love doesn’t need to be spoken to be understood.

“I'm a pa ěr duo,” Dihua chuckles, referencing the playful Sichuan term used for men who are humorously deemed submissive to their wives. “People tease us about it, but they don’t see the little things. His love? It’s everywhere—I just know where to find it.”

Their love story spans decades, beginning in the bustling streets of Chengdu, where they met as young adults. Fubin’s reserved nature was an endearing challenge for Dihua, who coaxed him out of his shell with her warmth and humor. Though he wasn’t one for grand declarations, his actions always spoke louder than words.

When they were apart, Fubin sent letters. Each one was meticulously written, filled with everyday musings and observations—never with overt expressions of love, yet brimming with meaning. “He’d never write ‘I miss you,’ but he’d talk about the flowers blooming by our favorite bridge or the way he couldn’t finish a meal without thinking of me,” Dihua recalls, smiling. “Those letters are my treasures.”

Over the years, their bond deepened through quiet gestures. In disagreements, Fubin would concede first, not out of submission but out of care. On Dihua’s birthday one year, Darry Ring volunteers gifted her a handwritten letter with sweet words on Fubin’s behalf. She still blushes when reading it aloud. “It was the first time anyone had captured the words he couldn’t say,” she admits. “I cried. It reminded me of all the love he’s shown me without ever saying it.”

Life hasn’t always been easy. The couple faced the ups and downs of raising children, running a family business, and navigating health challenges as they aged. But through it all, Fubin’s quiet dedication never wavered. “When I look back, I realize how much of his love is in the little things,” Dihua says. “It’s in the meals he prepares when I’m tired, the way he lets me win arguments, and the letters he’s still writing to this day.”

Fubin, shy as ever, simply says, “Love doesn’t need words. She knows.”

Their story, deeply intertwined with Sichuan’s cultural humor and heartfelt traditions, is a testament to love that exists in silence, in actions, and in every line of a letter that never mentions the word love. Dihua and Fubin remind us that sometimes, the truest expressions of love are the ones we discover for ourselves.