After Leaving the Mountains, I Returned with a Camera

I invited everyone from my village to the premiere of my first documentary.

Qingya Village, a century-old poverty-stricken village and a national model for poverty alleviation, had seventeen pennants hanging in the village committee hall.

And I, Shen Nian, was the only golden phoenix to have flown out of this village.

A documentary director with thirty million followers, and the internet's unanimously acclaimed most beautiful girl who never forgot her roots.

On the day of the premiere, the village chief brought young and old alike to the screening room, grinning from ear to ear.

They thought the documentary I'd spent three years making was about how grateful I was to my hometown.

And for the first eighty minutes, it was.

But when the final three minutes appeared on screen, the smiles vanished from every face.

The village chief's cigarette fell to the ground and burned through his trouser leg, but he didn't move.

I sat in the back row, watching their backs.

Just as they had watched mine when I was a child.