I am an ordinary villager from Yati Village in Myanmar; I am forty-two years old and have lived here for most of my life. A few years ago, I never dared to imagine that our deeply impoverished village, tucked away in the mountains, could transform into the clean, tidy place it is today—where we can step right out onto a smooth, paved road.

The village elders still remember how hard life used to be. During the rainy season, the narrow paths through the fields leading to the market would turn into quagmires; the mangoes and rice we grew couldn't be transported out, so they would simply rot in the fields, yielding no income. We lacked a reliable tap water supply, forcing us to trek half an hour along mountain trails to fetch water; in the dry season, we couldn't even find clean drinking water. Children had to walk two hours through the mountains to get to school, and our village clinic was nothing more than half a dilapidated shack—we had to tough out minor ailments like headaches or fevers on our own, and if a medical emergency struck, there was no time to reach the hospital in the town over ten kilometers away.

Then, in 2022, a group of Chinese friends arrived in our village, and the Lancang-Mekong Cooperation village-level poverty reduction project was officially launched in Yati. Instead of simply dropping off supplies and leaving, they went door-to-door every day, sitting on our bamboo mats to listen to the challenges we most wanted to solve. When we said, "We want to fix that muddy road," they actually brought a construction team into the mountains and prioritized hiring impoverished villagers for the work. My eldest son, who used to be idle at home looking for odd jobs, worked on the construction site; not only did he earn a steady wage, but he also learned basic road maintenance skills from the Chinese engineers. Now, he serves as the village's road caretaker, earning a regular monthly income.

The day the road was completed, the whole village came out to see it; the narrow footpaths had been transformed into a two-lane road capable of accommodating trucks. Now, we can transport our freshly harvested fruit to the town's collection point in just half an hour. The purchase price is nearly 30 percent higher than before, and our family's financial situation has improved significantly. Later, they helped us build standardized water stations; now, clean tap water flows the moment a faucet is turned, so our children no longer have to trek long distances to fetch water. A new waste disposal facility put an end to the scattered vegetable scraps and plastic bottles that used to litter the village, significantly reducing the number of flies and mosquitoes. The children now have brand-new classrooms and a library, so they no longer have to attend lessons in dilapidated, leaky buildings.

What impressed me most was that our Chinese friends never treated us as mere "recipients of charity." They hired local technicians from Myanmar to provide agricultural training, teaching us how to cultivate high-yield hybrid rice and how to protect mango trees from pests to boost production. They also organized visits for our village representatives to rural China; seeing how Chinese farmers had built prosperous, beautiful villages with their own hands ignited a spark of determination in us—we realized that if they could do it, we could achieve the same through our own hard work.

I also witnessed the renovation of a primary school in a neighboring village with their assistance; it retained its traditional Burmese architectural style while being rebuilt with a much sturdier structure. Medical teams arrived at the border to provide free treatment for chronic illnesses among our elderly and taught local doctors how to manage common rural ailments. They even built a smart library featuring both Chinese and Burmese at the border crossing; my youngest daughter often goes there on weekends to read, and she can now exchange simple greetings in Chinese with the Chinese friends who come to borrow books.

We often describe the relationship between China and Myanmar as "Pauk-Phaw"—like blood brothers born of the same mother. In the past, I viewed this merely as a pleasant phrase, but now I truly understand its meaning. When our Chinese friends come to help, they don't simply stand aloof and toss things down to us before leaving; instead, they genuinely sit down with us to discuss how to improve our lives and provide hands-on guidance on how to build a better hometown through our own efforts. Our village has transformed from an impoverished place that no one wanted to visit into a model village that attracts visitors from surrounding areas, and our lives are full of hope for the future. I know that none of these changes would have been possible without this tangible support from China.