Liu Meiyi's story
My name is Liu Meiyi. I was born in Shanshan County, Tulufan (Turpan), and moved to Urumqi at the age of eight. I'm a third-generation "Xinjianger."
My maternal grandfather, a native of Shandong Province in east China, answered the nation's call to develop the northwest in the 1960s, building railways all the way to Xinjiang. His children were born in Shandong, Ningxia Hui Autonomous Region and Hami in Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region—each stop along his journey has been marked by a new addition to the family. Their childhood years were, in a way, a living map of his contribution to the country.
My father, inspired by an essay about the Peacock River in Kuerle (Korla), turned down an opportunity at Daqing Oilfield in Heilongjiang Province and chose to work in Xinjiang instead. He ended up in Shanshan, a place with no peacocks, no river, and certainly no Peacock River—just vast, desolate desert and scorching heat.
As a child, I had no real concept of "ethnicity." I only knew that the uncle selling baked buns had big eyes and a sharp nose; that Teacher A, who taught dance at my kindergarten, was exceptionally beautiful; that my elders spoke with a Shandong accent; that the fruit shop owner spoke Sichuan dialect, and that after finishing a skewer of lamb, you'd say yakexi to the vendor, which means "thank you" in the local Uygur language. These differences were never an issue in a child's world. The children didn't feel these differences at all.
After taking the national college entrance exams, I went to Tianjin Municipality in north China for university. At the time, I harbored some naive and somewhat biased ideas: That Xinjiang's educational resources were relatively limited, and that I'd never be able to compete with students from other parts of the country. In my sophomore year, a classmate shared a post from the I Am From Xinjiang team, which was recruiting volunteer contributors and editors. ("I Am From Xinjiang" is a Chinese new media team that shares personal stories and cultural content to showcase the diverse lives of ordinary people from Xinjiang and promote cross-regional understanding on social media platforms including Weixin, Weibo, Douyin, Bilibili and Xiaohongshu—Ed.) As a Chinese literature major, I signed up eagerly, hoping to get some writing practice. Little did I know, this would open up a world far beyond my imagination.
Every week, the platform published stories of remarkable Xinjiang figures. Among the volunteers were peers who juggled multiple roles, excelled academically, and stood out in their fields. These stories shattered my stereotype that Xinjiang students don't perform well academically. Inspired by their example, I excelled academically and was admitted to Beijing Language and Culture University's program on teaching Chinese as a second language.
On the platform I Am From Xinjiang, I grew from a team member to editor in chief. Balancing student life with management responsibilities, I learned to think beyond the typical student mindset. And the constant shift between being a junior and taking on more responsibility taught me more than any class could. More importantly, my understanding of Xinjiang's culture deepened. Every article I proofread, word by word, was a step into cultural treasures I had never known.
Xinjiang has carried, blended and developed so much history and culture over time, converging into the collective identity of today's Xinjiang people, who together create a beautiful life. I've been away from Xinjiang for nine years now, but I'm still grateful for the open-mindedness and broad-heartedness it gave me.
Between 2018 and 2025, the platform was a defining part of my youth. I've evolved from a writer to an operator, reporter, event planner, livestreamer and business coordinator. I watched batches of young people, who are deeply attached to Xinjiang and selflessly devoted to promoting their homeland, grow up strong. As student volunteers, we kept up daily updates. By March 2025, we'd published 3,273 articles and expanded from a single account on Weixin, the super-app known internationally as WeChat, to 23 social media platforms. Each platform has its own strategy, but they all revolve around one core mission: presenting an authentic Xinjiang, telling its stories in a relaxed, down-to-earth way.
Whether you're a third-generation Xinjianger like me or a newcomer to the region, we all carry the cultural imprints of our ancestors from all over China. These diverse threads have been absorbed into Xinjiang's rich cultural soil, woven together into a beautiful cultural tapestry. Thanks to this, I've adapted quickly to the customs and cultures of every place I've studied. Even when interacting with people from overseas, cross-cultural communication comes naturally. And these experiences have fed back into my work. Whether as a Chinese language teacher or a Central Asia market manager, I've handled it all with ease.
Through the platform, I met Chen Ruijun, a senior engineer at China State Construction Engineering Corp. (CSCEC), who once worked in Xinjiang under the paired assistance program—a national initiative launched in 1997 to provide financial, technological and personnel support for the region's development. Chen has written several books on Xinjiang. At the time, his social media account needed volunteer help, and I was fortunate enough to join. As we worked together, I quickly realized what an outstanding person he is. Warm, approachable and deeply attentive to volunteers, he taught me countless valuable lessons during our partnership.
Just before my graduation, Chen learned about my struggles to find a job and proactively offered his support. After nearly three months, I landed a position at a central state-owned enterprise. But soon I began to feel the immense pressure and complex interpersonal dynamics at work. Many sleepless nights followed. The next spring, I decided to resign.
When I shared my thoughts with Chen, I initially worried that he might not understand. Instead, he listened patiently, sent long voice messages, and called me to learn about my situation. He offered understanding and support.
Later, at Chen's invitation, I began working on his social media account on another platform, working with a team of fellow volunteers to bring Xinjiang's stories to an even wider audience. In him, I found a classic "Chen Ruijun style": treating everyone, regardless of age or status, with courtesy—never arrogant, always respectful and equal. After we completed each article, he'd reply with "Thank you for your hard work" and "Much appreciated"—so polite and sincere that it always felt heartwarming.
I could feel Chen's genuine love for Xinjiang. He has forged a deep bond with the region. Even after his assignment in Xinjiang ended, he continued to support the region's development in various ways. He understands Xinjiang better than many locals.
Over the decades, he has consistently helped young people. Beyond that, he's an artist who truly knows how to live and love life, with impressive achievements in writing, photography and lyric writing.
Looking back, I realize I've always followed my heart. Whether joining I Am From Xinjiang, helping Chen run his platforms, or now working at the Cultural Palace of Ethnic Communities, the driving force has always been the same: my commitment to sharing good stories—bringing Xinjiang's stories and China's stories to more people.
Chen Ruijun's words
Liu Meiyi is one of the outstanding volunteers from the I Am From Xinjiang platform, and she is a third-generation Xinjianger with a deep emotional connection to the region. We'd known each other online for quite a while before finally meeting in person at a small gathering. By then, she'd already been volunteering for my social media account Under the Blue Sky for some time. Her conscientious work ethic and commitment to volunteer service left a strong impression on me.
After university graduation, she joined a subsidiary of CSCEC. The CSCEC, with its strong social responsibilities, needed talented young people with exactly that kind of commitment.
Liu got off to a good start, with positive feedback from her employer in Beijing. We stayed in touch via Weixin, and whenever I asked if she was facing any difficulties at work, she always replied, "Everything's fine, no problems." Then one day, she suddenly told me she'd submitted her resignation because she felt overwhelmed by the intense workload and office politics. I was taken aback. It dawned on me that she'd been too polite to tell me the real situation earlier. Since she'd made up her mind, I respected her decision and silently wished her well.
The world outside can be both exciting and unforgiving. After leaving CSCEC, Liu faced her fair share of challenges in the job market. I kept in touch from a respectful distance, and whenever she encountered difficulties in her career, I offered help based on my own experience.
While she worked as the leader of my social media account team, her dedication and sincerity moved me, and I firmly believe that such devotion will eventually bring her the rewards she deserves.
