Happiness 2016

After the death of his mother, Chan Kai-yuk [Carlos Chan Ka-Lok] leaves Guangzhou for Hong Kong in search of his father, who abandoned their family and started over with a new wife. Stripped of his job at a restaurant and facing mounting rent, he ends up sleeping on the streets until a kind hand reaches out. A chef named Kam [Louis Cheung], who works at the Beloved Community Centre—a local hub committed to helping the city’s less fortunate—offers him a chance, but Chan cannot accept it without a proper proof of address. In his moment of vulnerability, he crosses paths with Tse Yuen-fan [Kara Wai Ying-Hung], a middle-aged, childless ex-singer who lives alone after her last tenant moved out. Their first encounter is wary, yet Chan’s gesture—a simple gift of a dozen eggs—softens Tse’s guard a little, and she eventually agrees to let him become her tenant, setting the stage for a small, makeshift family to form in her quiet apartment.

With a fixed address finally in hand, Chan starts working at the Beloved Centre, where he meets Xiaoyue [Liu Yase], a Guangzhou-born social work intern, and Fong [Yan Ng], another worker who coordinates community programs. They join Chan on a food-sharing initiative, a project that not only feeds the hungry but also sparks a tentative attraction between Chan and Xiaoyue. Yet the pair’s budding closeness is complicated by the realities of their own lives and relationships, and Chan learns to navigate his feelings while remaining mindful of Tse’s careful routines and expectations.

As the days unfold, Chan’s light-hearted humor about Tse’s forgetfulness gives way to a deeper concern. Tse undergoes a quick assessment, and the results—a diagnosis of mild cognitive disorder—hit hard. Chan’s initial indifference gives way to a dawning awareness of the fragility of Tse’s independence. When she loses her bearings on the way home, fear and guilt tug at him, prompting a decision he secretly fears but cannot ignore: he will not abandon her. He temporarily withdraws from the flat, but a poignant moment of recognition—seeing Tse search for him through the neighborhood—drives him back. From that point on, he stays by her side, and with Fat’s support, Tse begins a medical regimen designed to slow the progression of her condition.

The story widens as Chan learns more about his own family history. With Fat’s help, he tracks down his father and discovers his father’s new life and family. In a moment of misplaced trust and affection, Chan secretly takes his younger stepbrother to an indoor playground and treats him to ice cream, only to face a frightening crisis when the boy experiences a peanut allergy. The emergency brings chaos to Chan’s world: his father, now married to a woman who insists on cutting ties with Chan, lashes out, and Chan is beaten. Tearfully, he agrees not to disrupt his father’s life again. Yet Tse and Xiaoyue stand by him, offering comfort and reminding him of the importance of chosen family. In a quiet moment, Tse even asks Chan to call her mother, underscoring the deep, maternal bond that has begun to redeem both their lives.

As Tse’s condition advances, she plans for the future with a will that names Chan as the beneficiary of all her possessions, including a flat she had inherited from a former employer, on one solemn condition: Chan must care for her as if he were her son. They begin to live together as a genuine family, and Tse rediscovers joy in her longtime painting hobby, letting her art fill their new domestic life. Chan continues to build a life outside of Tse’s care too, taking up a new job at a restaurant while sustaining the emotional center of his days with Tse and the people who care for them. In the meantime, Xiaoyue returns to Guangzhou, leaving a note that hints at a complicated past: she had admired Chan’s quiet, steadfast devotion to his terminally ill mother since they first met at a hospital there, even though he didn’t recognize her at the time. She explains that her own romance faltered, but she cherishes the deep connections formed in Hong Kong—especially the bond that grew between Chan and Tse.

Throughout the narrative, the film threads together themes of family—chosen and blood alike—duty, memory, and resilience. It asks what it means to care for someone who can no longer care for themselves, and how acts of kindness can ripple outward, transforming not only the caregiver but also the one who is cared for. The city becomes a backdrop for intimate, heartfelt moments: shared meals, quiet conversations in Tse’s living room, and the small, steadfast rituals that help two generations—an aging former singer and a young man trying to find his footing—find common ground. In the end, the story remains grounded in humanity: despite illness, rejection, and the complexities of love, Chan and Tse discover a familial tenderness that endures, and Xiaoyue’s departure and the note she leaves behind serve as a reminder that connection—no matter how fragile—can outlast circumstance. Their journey, anchored by care, memory, and mutual respect, speaks to the enduring possibility of family and belonging in a bustling city that never stops inviting new beginnings.