Homestays in Longshan Village (COURTESY) 

History has never been driven by comfort, nor shaped solely by inheritance. Its most significant turning points have emerged from those with youth, conviction and courage ingrained in them. Progress starts when young people not only dream but also take action. Sometimes, the boldest move is not to run towards the glow of cities, but to turn back - to one’s soil, roots and forgotten home - and help it to flourish. 

This is the story of Wang Ying, a young woman who could have stayed in the city, yet chose instead to return to the quiet hills and bamboo forests of Longshan Village in Miaoxi Town of Huzhou City, Zhejiang. Her decision was more than personal; it opened a new chapter for China’s countryside - a chapter where talent flows homeward, not away. 

Wang, a Zhejiang Gongshang University graduate, once held a secure and well-paid job in finance. She had what many young professionals pursue: stability, opportunity and the bright pulse of city life. But another question tugged at her: What becomes of the village that raised you, once the young people have all gone? Who tends to the old houses, the fading culture and the seniors waiting quietly at their gates? 

Wang’s turning point arrived in 2017, during her time at a small homestay in Viet Nam. The warmth of local hospitality struck her deeply. It reminded her of her own hometown - lush green hills and tea fields - yet overlooked, undervalued and slowly ageing. She realised that Longshan could offer the same sense of refuge and authenticity, if only someone would begin. 

So, in 2018, she resigned, packed her bags, and went home. 

The land was unchanged, the air was clean, and the forests still whispered. But the village felt as though it had paused in time. Shops were quiet, houses empty and opportunity thin. She could have turned back - but instead she looked forward. Where others saw decline, she saw a canvas. 

Wang began not by thinking of what the village lacked, but by recognising what it already possessed: land, memory, and a rural warmth that cities could never imitate. Yet resources alone do not create prosperity - they require vision, method and will. 

Old farmhouses could become inviting homestays. Centuries-old tea culture could transform into guest experiences. Idle villagers could be trained as hosts, artisans and storytellers. Work could return to hands long still, and dignity could return to those who once felt left behind. 

Change, however, demanded more than ideas. It required patience, conversation and persuasion. She went door to door, listening rather than instructing - asking what villagers hoped for, what skills they held, and what futures they imagined. Trust grew slowly but surely, and with it, collaboration. 

Wang Ying in her hometown in Longshan Village, Miaoxi Town of Huzhou City, Zhejiang Province (COURTESY) 

Life returns to a village 

Among the abandoned homes stood one old building - weathered, cracked but enduring. Many villagers walked past it as though passing a memory. Wang paused and envisioned life within it. 

She gathered carpenters, builders, young labourers and elderly women who remembered the house in its prime. They restored with respect rather than replaced with extravagance: clay walls re-smoothed, beams reinforced yet left visible, courtyards brightened and planted. The renovation centred on the tea heritage of Miaoxi Town, birthplace of The Classic of Tea - a book about tea culture written by scholar and writer Lu Yu of the Tang Dynasty (618-907). The design invited guests not only to stay, but to immerse, to slow down, and to belong. 

When the doors opened to the public in June 2019, there were no banners - only sunlight, bamboo shadows and fresh tea in ceramic cups. At the height of the rise of Xiaohongshu, a social platform also known as RedNote, Wang shared the homestay online. A slide, an infinity pool and its serene beauty caught much attention. Bookings arrived before the official launch. 

Guests travelled from Hangzhou, Shanghai, Beijing and beyond. They came seeking simplicity; they found peace. Mornings smelled of mist and tea leaves. Afternoons led them through bamboo forests or into hands-on tea-making workshops with village elders. Nights ended with raindrops tapping roof tiles like the memory of an old poem. 

Miaoxi Town was not just accommodation; it was an experience. And prosperity followed. 

Income from the homestay did not settle in one pair of hands. It flowed outward - towards farmers, weavers, cooks, cleaners and storytellers. 

Villagers learned hospitality skills. Elders taught visitors to weave bamboo baskets. Women who once thought they had little to offer began hosting pickling workshops or sewing quilts for guest rooms. Even vegetables found new value - no longer merely produce, but dishes rooted in land and season. 

With work came routine, and with routine came dignity. Laughter returned to courtyards, shutters opened to sunlight, and footsteps echoed along once-quiet paths. Miaoxi was no longer a forgotten dot on the map. It became a place worth travelling to, worth investing in and worth returning for. 

Value of agriculture 

Tourism revived hearts, but agriculture remained the village’s roots. Longshan’s tea, bamboo shoots and seasonal crops were of high quality, yet were previously sold cheaply by intermediaries. Wang saw potential in branding and storytelling. With improved packaging and quality control, ordinary produce became cultural products - gifts that carried the scent of earth and history. 

Agriculture was no longer humble; it became meaningful, aesthetic and valuable. 

The most profound transformation happened among the elderly. Many once anticipated only quiet years. Yet with industry reborn, they rediscovered worth. A woman skilled in pickling became a teacher; a retired craftsman instructed children in weaving; grandparents became custodians of memory, paid for experience rather than tolerated for ageing. 

To date, cultural and tourism projects have created more than 50 permanent jobs and over 3,000 flexible employment opportunities in Longshan Village. Per-capita income has risen by more than 30,000 yuan ($4,248). Last year, the village’s collective revenue reached 1.38 million yuan ($195,400). Numbers, however, tell only part of the story. What changed most was confidence. 

The village became a place not simply to live, but to aspire in. 

Wang’s story is not simply personal. It represents the future of China’s countryside - modern not by becoming urban, but by becoming its truest self. 

Her journey reminds us that progress does not always require departure. Sometimes, the most forward step is homeward - back to soil, back to roots, back to places history almost forgot. When young people return, villages bloom. When villages bloom, a nation booms.  

The author is Indonesian Reporter from China Report ASEAN