Chapter 118

That night, Liang Juemei didn’t go home. As expected, her father, Liang Zhiqiang, showed up with a few villagers, demanding the crew hand her over.

Wei Sheng couldn’t be bothered wasting words with someone so ignorant of the law. He immediately had someone fetch the village chief and called the town office.

What had started as a simple family dispute suddenly escalated into something much more serious, thanks to Wei Sheng’s skillful framing. After all, in recent years, the government had been heavily promoting rural revitalization and improving the business environment. The last thing they wanted was for local bullies to interfere with investors and disrupt operations.

Wasn’t this basically tarnishing Langshan Town’s reputation?

The town officials didn’t even wait for the film crew’s security to act—they dragged Liang Zhiqiang and his gang straight to the village committee for a “chat.”

Liang Yi, who had just returned from the mountains, also lent a hand.

“I’ll handle the ID issue,” she said. “I just asked Liang Juemei. Back then, her father beat her mother so badly she died along with the unborn child. It was a double homicide. Even though no police report was filed at the time, a lot of villagers know what happened. As long as we can find a witness, Juemei can report it now and request the police reopen the case.”

The tragedy of the three Liang sisters ultimately stemmed from one source: their heartless father, Liang Zhiqiang, who practically made a career out of selling his daughters. If they could get him locked up, what was a stepmother in comparison?

And even if they couldn’t actually send Liang Zhiqiang to prison, as long as Juemei held this over his head, he’d have no choice but to play nice. If he wanted to stay out of jail, he’d have to give in to her demands. Forget just helping her get an ID—if she wanted to get married and asked him to prepare a dowry, he wouldn’t dare say no.

When dealing with a snake, you strike at the seven-inch mark. For someone like Liang Zhiqiang, who was utterly selfish, nothing worked better than a threat to his own interests. He didn’t care about family—only about himself.

Liang Yi’s strategy was a direct hit: stay home and live easy, or go to jail and rot—which would Liang Zhiqiang choose? No need to even think about it.

And so, Liang Juemei stayed with the crew. What surprised both the director and Wei Sheng was that they’d only planned to let her do odd jobs for a while, and maybe help her find a stable job later. They hadn’t expected her to show such a strong interest in acting—and more than that, she actually seemed born for it.

At first, the director was worried she wouldn’t be able to adapt, so he gave her a simple role to play herself—a village girl selling tofu.

To everyone’s surprise, Juemei was fearless. Once she got used to the camera, she even started improvising with the other actors. A couple of times, when someone forgot their lines, she picked them up without missing a beat!

The director was ecstatic. He quickly asked Liang Yi to tweak the script, merging a few supporting roles into one and giving them all to Juemei’s character—the “Tofu Beauty.”

Even more surprising, none of the other actors objected to Juemei getting more screen time. A few of the actresses even egged Wei Sheng on, telling him to sign her right away. For them, short dramas might not pay as much as mainstream shows, but it was still better than Juemei waiting tables at a restaurant—and a lot less exhausting.

Wei Sheng was blown away by Juemei’s raw talent. Hearing everyone’s suggestions, he grinned and said, “Sign her! As long as Juemei’s willing, our company’s doors are always open!”

His media company had recently expanded. In addition to livestreaming and e-commerce, they were now branching into short dramas and microfilms. Shen Yi had already suggested they start scouting talented actors to sign early, so they could use their own people in future productions.

Don’t underestimate the value of short drama actors. Some of the more popular ones earned paychecks comparable to minor celebrities in the entertainment industry. And since short dramas had quick production cycles, a fully booked actor could bring in as much—or even more—revenue than a small-time star.

Liang Juemei never imagined such a twist of fate. An actress? A celebrity? That was something she’d never even dared to dream about.

Without hesitation, she accepted Wei Sheng’s offer.

“Should we help Juemei pick a better stage name? ‘Juemei’ sounds a bit awkward,” someone suggested nearby.

Wei Sheng thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No need. That name’s her unique label. Haven’t you noticed? As soon as people hear such an unusual name, they get curious—why is she called that? As long as the audience is intrigued, ‘Juemei’ isn’t a drawback—it’s a hook.”

More importantly, the core audience for their melodramatic short dramas were gossip lovers—affectionately known as “earth dogs.” And what did these earth dogs love most? Stories of tragic girls like Liang Juemei rising from the ashes.

Think about it: her mother beaten to death by her father, tormented and framed by her stepmother, nearly assaulted by her so-called cousin, and her two sisters sold off for dowries. With such a heartbreaking backstory, Liang Juemei managed to claw her way out of the mountains and become an actress.

No exaggeration—Wei Sheng could grab a screenwriter right now, turn her life into a revenge-fueled comeback drama, and it would go viral in no time. Wait… why not do exactly that?

He stroked his chin, already plotting how to give Liang Zhiqiang a lesson he’d never forget. The law might not be able to punish that scumbag, but Wei Sheng could use the power of money to nail Liang Zhiqiang and his vile second wife to the wall of public shame.

As long as the drama stayed online, as long as it kept airing, everyone would know the sins Liang Zhiqiang had committed. He’d be hated far and wide. Just imagining it was thrilling!

But then again, this involved her biological father. Once the story aired, the Liang family’s reputation would be completely trashed.

Wei Sheng didn’t care whether Liang Zhiqiang lived or died. What he worried about was whether this would affect Juemei—after all, she wasn’t married yet.

In Chinese society, women have always been held to harsher standards. A man can mess around before marriage, and as long as he settles down afterward, people will praise him as “a prodigal son returning home.” But if a woman has a complicated past, no matter how virtuous she becomes later, she’ll be branded a “used shoe” for life.

Similarly, a man from a poor background who succeeds is called “a hero who rose from nothing.” But a woman from the same kind of family? People say she was “poorly raised,” and many traditional families wouldn’t want her as a daughter-in-law.

With a worried look, Wei Sheng gently reminded Liang Juemei of this. To his surprise, she looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“President Wei, why would you think I’d ever want to get married?”

“If filming this drama means no man will ever want to marry me, then that’s perfect!”

Wei Sheng: ???

But soon, he understood why Juemei said that. Growing up in such a suffocating household, marriage wasn’t salvation to her—it was just another kind of prison. She didn’t fantasize about men. She only felt disgust and resistance.

After hearing Wei Sheng’s idea, not only did Juemei not object, she was all in. She even offered to provide all the material they needed—and said she’d be happy to play herself.

Seeing how eager she was, practically itching to destroy Liang Zhiqiang, Wei Sheng was speechless.

Was there something wrong with the feng shui at their company? From the boss down to the employees, not one of them wanted to get married—they were all just out to make money!

The filming schedule for short dramas is always tight. As soon as Wei Sheng returned from Langshan, he handed post-production over to the team and immediately flew to Province N to join Wang Qun and the others who had already arrived.

The current episode of *Retracing the Path of Poverty Alleviation* had actually started filming two days earlier. However, the first two days didn’t involve the regular cast much—which, in fact, is one of the main reasons why so many viewers love this show.

While most variety shows in the entertainment industry revolve around celebrity guests, *Retracing the Path of Poverty Alleviation* takes a different path. The four regular guests are more or less just background figures. The production team focuses the spotlight entirely on the people who truly need help. There are no gimmicks, no flashy drama—just a sincere attempt to let the audience step into the shoes of these marginalized groups and feel genuine compassion and concern for them.

Over the past few years, many directors in the industry have complained that audiences are getting harder and harder to please. Wang Qun used to say the same thing. But ever since he started working on this show, every time a new episode airs, he scrolls through the comments under the videos and sees viewers enthusiastically offering suggestions, even volunteering resources to help. For Wang Qun, whose heart has always been a bit sentimental, it’s deeply moving—beyond words.

Who says today’s audiences are hard to please?

If you’re making something they truly care about, they’ll praise you to the skies—why would they criticize you?

Speaking of the audience, the poverty-alleviation lead for this episode of *Retracing the Path of Poverty Alleviation* actually came from a viewer.

Wang Qun decided to include this newly added filming location because that viewer sent him an entire box full of handwritten letters.

It had been years since Wang Qun had received so many handwritten letters. That night, he stayed up reading every single one of them. By the time he finished, he couldn’t sleep at all.

All the letters came from the same place—a village called Huangbai in Province N.

Huangbai Village is located on the outskirts of City N, where urban and rural areas meet. The terrain is flat, and the villagers used to be vegetable farmers, making their living by growing produce. Over twenty years ago, in an effort to protect the urban environment, the local government relocated several heavily polluting factories from the city to surrounding areas. Unfortunately, one of those factories—a pesticide plant—was moved right next to Huangbai Village.

Back then, people weren’t as aware of pesticide pollution as they are now. And since vegetable farmers often used pesticides themselves, many villagers actually felt a sense of familiarity and even comfort seeing a well-known pesticide brand set up shop nearby.

More importantly, the factory brought jobs. With more workers in town, the local economy got a boost. Everyone seemed pretty satisfied.

But over time, more and more people in the area began developing malignant tumors and cancers. Some factory workers—especially women—either couldn’t conceive or gave birth to children with severe birth defects. Some didn’t even realize anything was wrong until the baby was born.

It was only then that people began to realize the true nightmare the pesticide factory had brought into their lives.

The villagers united and began filing complaints with various levels of government, even petitioning in person. It took years of relentless effort—and some of the leading villagers were even arrested during the process—but eventually, after a long and bitter struggle, they managed to shut the factory down and drive it out.

Everyone thought the nightmare was finally over.

But no one realized—the real nightmare was only just beginning.

After the factory left, the land it had occupied was left vacant. Strangely, the local government never sold the land.

The villagers didn’t know why. Seeing the land abandoned, they happily grabbed their hoes and rushed in to claim plots, clearing the ground and planting vegetables and grains.

Who would’ve thought that even after the factory was gone, people in Huangbai Village and neighboring villages continued to fall ill—cancer, skin diseases, birth defects. Elderly residents rarely lived long. With weakened immune systems and poor health, over half the villagers were plagued by chronic illnesses.

Fear took hold. The villagers began petitioning the higher authorities again, begging for help.

But what could the government do? Soil and water pollution caused by pesticide manufacturing is a global problem—one that even developed countries struggle to solve. What could a small township possibly do?

Let’s be honest—if the land hadn’t been severely contaminated, it would’ve been sold off long ago. The reason no one wants to buy it is because investors know that any land previously used by a pesticide factory is essentially “poisoned.” Natural degradation and dilution could take decades—maybe longer—before the land is safe again.

Investors buy land to make money, not to commit suicide.

It’s said that many of the workers who were hired when the factory first opened have already died from various illnesses. The ones still alive are suffering from chronic diseases.

What’s worse, after the factory closed, these laid-off workers lost their jobs and had no medical insurance. With rural household registration, they could only enroll in the New Rural Cooperative Medical Scheme.

But treatment costs? The annual medical expenses alone could bankrupt a family.

And giving up on treatment? Who could bear to watch their loved ones die in pain?

This time, the villagers of Huangbai wrote to the production team of *Retracing the Path of Poverty Alleviation*, hoping that the show’s growing influence could help them find a way out.

In the past, they couldn’t bear to leave their ancestral land.

But now, with their hometown turned into a “toxic land,” their generation is already lost. They can’t just sit by and watch their children and grandchildren grow up on poisoned soil.

No one cares about “home” anymore. All they want is to leave. But relocating an entire rural village isn’t easy. Where would they go? Who would pay for the move? Would they still get farmland afterward? What about their children’s education? These are problems no ordinary villager can solve on their own.

This is a village trapped in poverty with no way to rebuild.

The only solution seems to be a full-scale relocation.

Fortunately, after two years of refinement, *Retracing the Path of Poverty Alleviation* has built up a certain level of social influence, and its relationship with government departments is solid. After receiving the plea for help, Wang Qun didn’t dare make any promises on his own. He consulted with the relevant authorities and reached out to provincial and municipal leaders in Province N and City N. Only after confirming that Huangbai Village met the criteria for full relocation did he bring the production team over.

What neither the crew nor the audience expected was that their reception would be handled by none other than Vice Mayor Sun Limin, who oversees agriculture and rural affairs in City N.

Wang Qun had met high-ranking officials before—even at the provincial level—but for a small village relocation to draw the attention of a Vice Mayor? That left him more than a little nervous.

(End of chapter)