Guo Yiwen’s story
My name is Guo Yiwen, and I work as a manager at the State Development and Investment Corp. In 2008, together with my colleague Cao Yue, I was assigned to work in Aksu Prefecture as part of the sixth batch of officials providing aid to Xinjiang. Cao served as deputy secretary of the Communist Party of China (CPC) Wushi County Committee and deputy secretary general of the CPC Aksu Prefectural Committee, while I took on the role of deputy county mayor of Wushi and deputy secretary general of the Aksu Prefecture Administrative Office. That was when my deep connection with Xinjiang truly began.
The corporation was paired with Wushi, a border county struggling with poverty, as part of a national program that pairs wealthier regions and state-owned enterprises with specific impoverished areas in Xinjiang to provide targeted, long-term support. Ethnic minorities make up 94.6 percent of Wushi’s population, including Uygur, Hui, Kirgiz and 15 other ethnic groups.
Though short, those three years away gave me a lifetime’s worth of experience. Xinjiang broadened my perspective and my heart. Writing books about the experience brought me inner abundance, fulfillment and peace. Those three years were life’s greatest gift, a treasure I will always cherish. I gained knowledge and formed sincere friendship with people from many ethnic groups.
During our time there, we established deep bonds with colleagues. After returning, those friendships continued to grow. Because we were spread far apart, many of us stayed connected through two platforms established by the regional government: the Aid Xinjiang Journal and a website dedicated to officials who worked in Xinjiang as part of the national paired assistance to Xinjiang program, where we share our writings and exchange ideas. Many friends I knew only by name, without meeting face to face.
That was the case with Chen Ruijun and me. We flew to Xinjiang on the same plane and both worked in south Xinjiang, but between us lay the vast Taklimakan Desert. A 420-km highway slices through it, which, by Xinjiang standards, made us practically neighbors. Yet we didn’t meet in person while we were in Xinjiang; I only read his work.
Over those three years in Wushi, I left behind a prose collection called Ode to Wushi and two poetry collections, White Flame and The Dimension of White Birds. Chen, meanwhile, left a lasting mark with his influential book Nanjiang Feihong, or Messages From South Xinjiang in English. After we returned from Xinjiang, the lessons and experiences we had gained began to sink in and mature over time, and our enthusiasm for Xinjiang found expression through writing, music and other creative endeavors. I wrote the Ode to the Populus Euphratica for my Xinjiang friends, while he composed a series of heartfelt, melodious songs like Dreaming Back to Hetian (Hotan), Xinjiang Under the Blue Sky, and The Jade Bond of Hetian.
Chen stands out as one of the most remarkable among us. He writes, publishes, photographs, composes songs, and has recently taken up literary criticism. We are like mirrors for each other, friends who spur one another on. He once collaborated with singer and composer Hong Qi on a series of Xinjiang-related songs that are warm, heartfelt and rich in texture. I couldn’t help but admire him for that.
We first connected through the Aid Xinjiang Journal, and after our assignments ended, he sent me Messages From South Xinjiang for feedback. Later, we often consulted each other on matters concerning the aid team and our shared projects. For instance, when I was helping organize the first edition of The Aid Xinjiang Voice, we included his song Dreaming Back to Hetian. Its lyrics are simple and unpretentious, yet deeply moving. What struck me most was how vividly it evoked the atmosphere of Hetian—the local flavors, the familiar scent of roasted buns, and even the haunting memory of sandstorms. His passion for lyric writing seems to have ignited around that time. Five years have passed, and his enthusiasm hasn’t faded; new songs keep arriving.
Chen has written Ode to Aid Xinjiang. I once introduced him to renowned Chinese poet and essayist Shen Wei, thinking Shen would be a valuable resource given his expertise and influence in this area. I’ve always felt that writing odes—this traditional Chinese poetic form of praise—requires immense passion, and compared to him, my own literary zeal seems modest and restrained.
I hope Chen and I will always be the kind of friends who speak plainly, push each other further, and keep finding ways through words, music, or simply showing up, to give back to the place that gave us so much.
Chen Ruijun’s words
Yiwen and I are honest friends—one of the most valuable outcomes of our time in Xinjiang.
During our years in south Xinjiang, I came to know of her through her beautiful essays posted on the Aid Xinjiang Journal and the website dedicated to the participants of the paired assistance to Xinjiang program. Her output was astonishing: piece after piece, brimming with passion, talent and sincerity. I genuinely admired her. She often praised my articles and left thoughtful comments. Though we appreciated each other’s work, we never had the chance to meet. It wasn’t until near the end of my assignment that our mutual friend Wang Hongxue, who was also working in Hetian, suggested I get in touch with this talented writer. He gave me her contact information, and we finally spoke over the phone across the Taklimakan Desert.
After our assignments ended, we finally met in person at a gathering of participants to the paired assistance to Xinjiang program. Guo was warm, open, spirited and straightforward, and we hit it off instantly. Among a group of people who all shared a deep attachment to Xinjiang, she was always willing to give her time and energy to help others, quickly becoming the heart of our circle.
Our feelings for Xinjiang, like fine wine, have only grown richer with time. We often organize literary gatherings, all centered on that beloved region. For many of us, the work didn’t end when we left; it became part of who we are. We write prose and poetry, share photographs, and have even established the tradition of releasing a new edition of The Aid Xinjiang Voice album each year. Whenever Guo can join, she naturally takes on the role of “secretary general”—organizing, planning, sending reminders and handling group expenses. She seems to have inexhaustible energy.
Getting along with Guo is wonderfully simple. She speaks her mind and never hedges. When she helped me revise my book Messages From South Xinjiang, she held nothing back, offering thorough and candid feedback, which was a truly refreshing experience. She is one of the most prolific writers among the aid officials, and her work reflects her personality: sometimes gentle and delicate, sometimes passionate and bold.
In just three years, while making substantial contributions to the local community, she produced three collections of poetry and prose that inspired many around her. Her love for Xinjiang burns bright enough to melt ice and snow.
In many ways, I believe the Xinjiang experience shaped Guo and enriched all of us who served there. In those extraordinary years, we encountered Xinjiang and found our souls renewed. Wherever we may live now, for the rest of our lives, we will willingly call ourselves sons and daughters of Xinjiang. –The Daily Mail-Beijing Review News exchange item
