Editor's Note

"What is a sustainable community? It is when I grow old, there is still someone willing to knock on my door." In the documentary The Community of Our Dreams, this sentence instantly struck a chord with many.

Over 25 days, crossing 4,800 meters of altitude, from plateau pastoral areas to coastal urban communities, this film, funded by Vanke Public Welfare Foundation and produced by the Stellar Partners Program, allows us to witness five of the most authentic community faces.

It is not about providing answers, but about witnessing—the true intention of this documentary is captured in this phrase:

"On China's vast land, there are countless tiny lights, continuously shining in specific communities and on specific people."

In November 2025, our old friend Dajun came to us, talking about an industry support project he had been hosting for many years—the "Stellar Partners Program." After several exchanges, the words were not complicated, but exceptionally honest. By the end of our chat, we almost did not hesitate at all, and began this shoot.

The reason is not romantic, even somewhat "serious":

We all believe that some light, though dim, is worth being seriously seen and quietly recorded.

Thus, we shouldered our equipment and embarked on a journey that constantly went downward, yet deeper.

From 4,800 Meters Above Sea Level to Near Sea Level: A Walk Questioning What a "Sustainable Community" Actually Looks Like

For 25 days, we moved forward along a route of constantly decreasing altitude—from the 4,800-meter plateau pastoral area of Yushu to Qingdao near zero altitude, passing through pastoral areas, cities, rural areas, and mountains, crossing wind and snow, sea breeze, and humid monsoon, entering five distinctly different community sites.

But this is not just a geographical crossing.

Just as the narrator of this film, Luo Dan, asks in her opening monologue: "The term 'sustainable community' sounds like a slogan. But if you put it in people's hearts, what does it actually mean?"

We set out with this question, trying to find the outline of an answer on the land.

01 The Inheritance of the Plateau: Not an Unchanging Promise, but an Uninterrupted Dialogue Between Generations and the Land

In Yushu, we kept the camera low and slow.

The shoot did not rush to seek "achievements," but quietly followed the daily trajectory of the Jinba Charity Association: the figures of herders building cow dung drying platforms in the morning, children's paintings of "My Hometown" pasted on the walls of the primary school, Qiu Ying talking by the fire about taking over as secretary-general of the Jinba Charity Association from founder会长 Zaxi, the light and confusion in his eyes, and the star-filled plateau sky outside the office at night.

Luo Dan said that what moved her most at this stop was not the "resilience" usually told, but a restraint and stability precipitated in long-term responsibility. Here, "sustainability" is first and foremost a promise not to escape.

Gongha Qiu Yingduojie (Secretary-General of Yushu Jinba Charity Association)—this young second-generation public welfare worker, from the tension and uncertainty when he first took over, to now being able to steadily talk about the institution's five-year strategy, his change reflects the vitality of a charity organization that has taken root in the pastoral area for thirty years. From the initial drinking water project and building bridges and schools, to now promoting cow dung drying platforms, reusable tableware, echinococcosis prevention, and sexual safety education, Jinba's actions have always grown from the real breath of the pastoral area.

On the snowy mountain, Qiu Ying said to Luo Dan: "Either leave home to find a way, or stay and make a way for home."

And when looking up at the stars late at night, he softly said: "I am still looking for the answer."

It is precisely this state of "searching in responsibility" that allows us to see: a sustainable community is not one-way help or transformation, but the continuation of a relationship that constantly breathes and dialogues between people and the land, between people, and between generations.

Here, the light may not be dazzling, but it is always on; the road may not be flat, but there are always people walking on it.

02 The Warmth of the Old City: "Fixing Things Can Also Fix Feelings"

When we arrived in Xi'an, the rhythm of the camera noticeably quickened.

Narrow stairwells, the continuous tapping sound in repair shops, residents naturally chatting... the community scene here is completely different from the vast tranquility of the plateau pastoral area.

We followed Yang Xiong and the Green Origin team, recording their long-term "Happy Repairman" action promoted in old communities. Discovering and cultivating skilled workers in the community, repairing zippers, small appliances, changing light bulbs... no service fee, repairing many things that commercial repair companies disdain to repair—these seemingly ordinary "minor repairs" constitute the most real and most warm public scenes in the neighborhood.

But as filming deepened, we gradually discovered:

What the Happy Repairman repairs is far more than just objects.

Green Origin head Yang Xiong once half-jokingly said: "We can repair anything here, even feelings can be repaired."

This is not a joke.

In many old communities, many elderly people do not really "need to repair," but are used to bringing over old objects they have used for many years, and after they are repaired, they do not rush to leave, but sit down and chat with the repairman for a while.

From an old appliance, chatting about the past; from a repair, extending to a renewed understanding of neighbors.

Luo Dan believes that what touched her most at this stop was seeing that today, as the urban system gradually ages and public space continues to shrink, "Happy Repairman" unexpectedly became an entry point for relationships.

Repairing an old object makes people believe again that "things can still be used"; and that small segment of companionship and listening makes people feel again—that "I am still needed."

Therefore, the camera at this stop also gradually shifted from recording environmental protection narratives to subtle observations of urban human networks: in those corners that are easy to ignore, the friendship between people is quietly flowing through the old objects that are repaired.

This also makes us more convinced: in old neighborhoods bearing time and memory, what is truly being repaired is often not objects, but the precious support and trust between people and the community.

03 Inclusion in Urban-Rural Integration: Making Oneself Dispensable is the Most Far-Reaching Presence

In Mazheng, the camera was lengthened and slowed down again.

The filming here did not revolve around a distinct "hero," but slowly showed a living soil woven by villagers, returning youth,驻村 volunteers, public welfare makers, and grassroots secretaries. The shouts at the agricultural assistance market, the silence and laughter in the courtyard at night, the inevitable differences and continuous compromises in cooperation... these constitute the most solid daily texture of Mazheng.

We followed Wu Lei (nature name: Xiaoman, Executive Secretary-General of Mazheng Plan Volunteer Service Center) and the Mazheng Plan team, recording their "taking root" for ten years like one day:

Starting from the simple original intention of "helping the poor first helps intelligence," to launching the "assisting students, assisting agriculture, assisting villages" trinity Mazheng Plan;

Starting from the village road of "dusty in sunny days, muddy in rainy days," to gradually building up the "government guidance, maker leadership, villager participation" multi-governance model;

Turning "rural areas into scenic spots, farmers into tour guides, farm work into products," reversely driving industrial development, incubating a diversified industry matrix such as rural study tours, red education tours, characteristic homestays, cultural experience tours, ecological leisure tours, pet interaction tours, science and technology popularization tours;

Promoting a volunteer team of 611 to carry out 2,291 services, and breeding local female growth projects such as the "Red Mei Sister" and the "Juxin Volunteer Service Team" mainly composed of local villagers.

All this is not easy. As Xiaoman said, urban-rural integration "is not drawn in the meeting room," but polished step by step in the fields, stoves, markets, and countless night talks.

Luo Dan mentioned that what moved her most in Mazheng was not an isolated achievement, but a sober and restrained work philosophy. The actors here are always vigilant against "walking too fast for the community." In a night talk, Xiaoman once expressed:

"Now, we need to learn to 'not be there.' Making oneself dispensable is the most far-reaching presence."

This consciousness of "accompanying but not replacing" gradually spawned truly lasting changes:

Villagers changed from recipients to helpers, beginning to actively participate in public affairs;

Local youth returned and stayed, taking on specific roles in cooperatives, homestays, and markets;

Foreign resources and wisdom were no longer just "input," but were absorbed, transformed, and grew into a part of the local context.

By the later stage of filming, we clearly felt: the team's focus of work had quietly shifted from "promoting projects" to the transfer of relationships and the letting go of trust. In 2025, the operating income of Mazheng Village's collective economy reached 3.358 million yuan, with a profit of 1.556 million yuan, a huge leap from the 12,000 yuan when the "Mazheng Plan" just started in 2015—behind the numbers is a warm trust network woven by countless people.

When the interview in Mazheng ended, Luo Dan asked Xiaoman a question, "If you imagine what Mazheng will be like in ten years," Xiaoman thought, and then said three words "I don't know."

Perhaps the future is too uncertain for us to imagine long-term, which makes us focus more on what we can do now.

When Luo Dan said goodbye to Xiaoman on the small bridge at the village entrance, she expressed her thoughts on "sustainability": "Perhaps 'sustainability' is 'continuing unclearly and imperfectly.' We focus on the present, doing in the present."

This stop made us重新 understand "urban-rural integration":

It is not about copying the urban template to the countryside, but on the premise of respecting the original rhythm of the land, allowing people from different backgrounds to find a place to stay and coexist here. Connection is not for holding tightly, but for letting go calmly at the appropriate time, letting the light continue to be passed in the hands of locals.

04 Mountain Echo: Learning to Take Root in an Uncertain Era

Leaving Mazheng, Anhui, we plunged into the mountains of Conghua, Guangzhou, which belong to Guangzhou but not the prosperous city.

Two hours of driving, most of the journey was circling on mountain roads. The signal was intermittent, sometimes the navigation was completely silent. The world outside the car window gradually became only winding roads, dense green, and clear bird calls. The driver was a local in Guangzhou, but also the first time driving into such deep mountains, he could not help asking: "Aren't you afraid to come here? Why do people want to live in the mountains?"

And we came precisely for those people who live in the mountains. Why did they come, and have they thought about leaving?

The deep cultivation colleagues—a group of college students who walked from the city into the deep mountains, who took root because of a public welfare project, and stayed for ten years. Here, filming returned again to "time" itself—not the fast-forwarded achievements, but continuous actions, repetitive daily life, and long dialogues.

The camera followed them:

The back of bending to work in the terraced fields;

In the dim old house, only by an oil lamp, cooking around the stove, laughter intermittent with the mountain wind;

Frankly differing in night talks: "We want to do 'small and beautiful,' but there are always people who want to become a 'big project' at one go";

Fetching water, loosening soil, overlooking the valley light and shadow slowly moving in the morning mist.

Luo Dan said in the voiceover that this group of young people let her see a "long-lost ideal" and the "rhythm of the deep mountains"—not pursuing being seen immediately, but in the double uncertainty of climate risk and rural transformation, continuously doing "down-to-earth things": from community economy to mutual aid endowment, to climate resilience construction, they accompanied this village dominated by middle-aged and elderly with the professionalism and patience of social workers, slowly growing its own support system.

The "Stellar Partners Program" here is not a baton, but an accompaniment: through funds, resources, and industry exchanges, supporting them to transform concepts like "climate resilience" into life practices that villagers can understand and use.

At the end of filming, Luo Dan said goodbye to Ya Jun at the mountain pass. The mountain wind was strong, but the voice was light. Ya Jun asked: "Will you come again?" Luo Dan answered: "Of course. As long as you are here, I will always come."

She said in the film: "Perhaps sustainability is not about walking fast and far, but about taking root downward, growing upward, connected by roots, illuminating each other."

This stop, for the entire film, concluded a breath of the deep mountains—slow, continuous, echoing in the wind. It does not provide answers, only presents a way of life: in an uncertain era, there are still people who choose to take root and believe that taking root itself is a light.

05 The Light of the Coastal City: How to Restore the Missing Neighborhood Affection?

The last stop, we came to Qingdao with an altitude of less than one hundred meters, we slowed down again, not eager to explain "community building" with any grand concepts.

Filming focused on those tiny but tense daily moments:

A community meeting about the location of the waste classification cabin, residents, property, social workers sitting around, the atmosphere once tense, until a little girl timidly said: "I think it can be placed on the garden side, there are trees and wind."

A sharing of "a spoon of rice," grains pouring from one cloth bag to another, a simple action, but letting the strange house number behind, have a concrete temperature.

In many such scenes, people's faces of dispute, hesitation, listening, and loosening subtle expressions.

Behind these fragments is an extremely personal memory of Xu Jin, head of Qingdao Niwo Innovation Social Work Service Center, which determined the direction of public action:

Xu Jin's childhood lived in the courtyard of her aunt's grandmother. A courtyard, many children. Every morning, she was awakened by the sound of neighbors drawing water at the well, children running and shouting in the stairwell, agreeing to "dig clams" "swim in the sea." Whoever made dumplings or boiled clams, would definitely send a bowl to the neighbor; whoever's child was off school, naturally ran into another family's door. The stairwell was always floating with the smell of food, if there was something, neighbors would help.

"That relationship does not need deliberate management," Xu Jin said, "it grows in the shared water龙头, ventilated stairwell, and children's shouts."

But when she later moved into a modern commercial building, she felt like a "lonely soul"—not knowing anyone, not even knowing who lived upstairs and downstairs. She clearly realized: what the city is really short of is not hardware, but that natural, caring relationship itself.

This memory became the starting point and original intention of all the work of "Qingdao Niwo." What they did was not to create a series of lively but short-lived activities, but to design daily mechanisms like "a spoon of rice" that are low-threshold and sustainable, gradually rebuilding the "visibility" and "responsiveness" of neighbors.

In a night talk, Xu Jin said to Luo Dan: "What is a sustainable community? It is when I grow old, there is still someone willing to knock on my door."

Luo Dan summarized: "Xu Jin uses the softest way to turn quarrels into dialogue... she made me understand that the root of sustainability grows in people's hearts."

The Stellar Partners Program was described by Xu Jin as "accompanying"—it provides not only funds, but also a community that makes practitioners feel safe and not alone, a group of like-minded people who believe that "relationships can warm up."

The Answer the Documentary Finally Points to...

25 days, five communities, a journey of constantly going downward.

When we finally retracted the camera, looking back at this journey of light and shadow and dialogue, a clear outline gradually emerged:

"The Community of Our Dreams," perhaps never a perfect blueprint, but a continuous state—is the breath of relationships, the growth of trust, and the courage to still want to connect in the fracture.

In Yushu, we saw how responsibility becomes light—it is not a heavy burden, but the calm light in the eyes of generations taking the torch.

In Xi'an, we understood how repair becomes temperature—in the tapping sound of the old neighborhood, what was repaired was not only zippers and circuits, but the invisible line between people.

In Hefei, we experienced how connection leads to letting go—true accompaniment is not always supporting, but learning to step back, letting the hands of locals become the hands holding up the future.

In Conghua, Guangzhou, we learned how taking root becomes an answer—in an uncertain era, the most determined sustainability may be to choose to stay and believe that time itself has light.

In Qingdao, we touched how relationships become soil—the city does not lack tall buildings, what it lacks is that knock on the door, that spoon of rice from neighbors, that pause willing to listen in the meeting.

This road, we walked seriously, but also walked lightly.

What we filmed is not "solutions," but the encounter of people;

What we recorded is not "successful cases," but the way life本来 is—there is confusion, there is pause, there is dispute, and there is understanding and trust quietly lit in the fire, on the field, in the stairwell.

Luo Dan said in the final part of the film:

"On this journey, I saw too much light.

Some dazzling, some dim,

but they are all there,

like the wind in the mountains, like the stars in the night sky.

Sustainability is not never going out,

but someone continuing to light it."

This may be the meaning of our journey:

Not to provide answers, but to witness—

On China's vast land, there are countless tiny lights, continuously shining in specific communities and on specific people.

And the "Stellar Partners Program," just like its name—

Discover light, become light, walk a section of night road, add a bit of star fire, let the light be passed more steadily and farther.