A Three-Year-Old Dumpling Guides the Ancestors Through Past and Present, Bringing a Golden Age to Pass

Three-and-a-half-year-old Mumu is the most ordinary little rice-ball at her kindergarten.

No one knows that the seemingly ordinary door to her bedroom opens onto the most turbulent years from 1921 to 1949.

“Big sister, why is your steamed bun white?”

A little soldier in ragged clothes gazes at the breakfast in Mumu's hands, his eyes shining brighter than the stars.

“Child, that thing flying in the sky... is it one of our Chinese planes?”

An old hero with one arm gazes up at the sky at a roaring J-20, tears streaming down his face.

Mumu doesn't understand grand ideals. She only knows that these uncles, aunts, grandpas, and grandmas, all covered in wounds, are the very best people.

She takes their hands and shows them the bustling traffic, the mountains of supplies in the supermarket, and a prosperous China where no one is bullied anymore.

In this life, the land is at peace, and life is ordinary once more.

Our forebears, welcome home.