We open on Earth seen from space. The Chinese space station Tiangong 1 drifts into view. We cut to an interior shot and see China’s first female astronaut, Liu Yang, performing experiments.

At this point, the film pauses. Every scene from here on happens in reverse.

We see the space shuttle docking, Liu Yang getting on board; news footage of the rocket taking off; news footage of Liu Yang waving bye before entering the space shuttle— in reverse.

VO: We looked forward. We stepped into tomorrow. We’ve come so far.

From the news footage we cut to a scene of Liu Yang’s family at home, gathered to witness the moment on their TV.

Their living room is furnished with an IKEA sofa, a LACK table, a side table with a vase and flowers.

VO: We never paused, never looked back.

We keep reversing, seeing Liu Yang train to become an astronaut. We see her flying in the sky in a fighter plane when she was a Major in the air force.

VO: But no matter where we’ve been, what we’ve seen, and what we’ve conquered—we all began somewhere.

We see vignettes of Liu Yang cooking at home. She uses an IKEA wok and the 365+ set of pans and pots.

We then see Liu Yang playing doctor-and-patient with her daughter: Liu Yang is holding an IKEA heart pillow to her chest while the daughter plays doctor with a stethoscope.

VO: Home.

We reverse more and Liu Yang is a student, upset over her exam and comforted by her uncle. (Her study is furnished with IKEA study table, chair, study lamp, and book shelves).

We see Liu Yang in school, playing volleyball after class.

VO: Home is where we sleep, the cradle of our dreams.

We see Liu Yang on the bus with her mum on her way to school. Through the bus window we see a plane in the sky.

VO: Home is the bedrock we build on.

We reverse way back to when Liu Yang was a child living at home. A typical family scene. The father is reading the papers, reclined on an IKEA chair, legs propped up on an IKEA footstool. The mum is in the kitchen preparing a meal with IKEA utensils. And Liu Yang on the floor, drawing stars with IKEA MALA crayons.

VO: Home is the door we step through into tomorrow.

If we get home right, everything else follows.

SUPER: IKEA. Life begins at home.

This script refers to the Chinese practice of “confinement” where a mother stays home with her newborn for a month after giving birth.

We open on a close up of a baby’s tiny hand, it’s grasping a mother’s finger. The baby’s hand opens and the mother lets go. Camera pans out and we see a baby room.

The mother steps out and we see her tidying the apartment: The newspaper is put away in a magazine holder on the floor, books are put back on shelves. We see her using IKEA products to tidy and organize the place.

She moves into the kitchen and the camera quickly flicks past the calendar showing the date. She takes items from the fridge to prepare lunch. She moves around easily, everything organized and within reach. It looks like a very ordinary, mundane day.

Her VO:
Today is the 27th day I’ve stayed at home, I haven’t stepped out at all. In three days my daughter will be one month old.

Us Chinese have this tradition, mothers stay home for a whole month after giving birth.

Because the body is fatigued and weak.

Outside is the cold, the wind, the dirty air— we’re vulnerable

A lot of Chinese don’t practice this today because of work, who’ll bring home the food?

These days it takes two.

She chuckles.

I thought it would drive me crazy when my grandma told me this tradition.

How can I stay home for one whole month?!

I hardly spent any time at home growing up and after I started working.

Today is my 27th day at home. I’ve spent every moment with her.

I’ve seen her fall asleep and followed in her dreams.

I’ve felt her hands open and close grasping butterflies in her sleep.

Her breath is my breath, her hand is my hand.

Is this my gift to her, or her gift to me?

My daughter will never remember this.

And I will never forget.

SUPER: IKEA. Life begins at home.