When explosions rocked Kyiv in February 2022, Chinese student Hou Yefan faced an impossible choice: stay in his dormitory or join thousands fleeing Ukraine’s capital. What followed became an unexpected testament to human connection during crisis.
“We walked for hours with just our passports and phones,” Hou told our correspondent from a rural household 150 km west of Kyiv, where he and three classmates found refuge with the Petrenko family. “Mrs. Olena saw us at the train station – shivering, disoriented – and didn’t hesitate.”
For eight months, the 24-year-old linguistics student has shared a modest three-bedroom home with seven Ukrainians while completing his studies online. Days begin with shared coffee rituals and end with language exchanges – Mandarin lessons traded for Ukrainian folk song tutorials.
Despite frequent air raid sirens and scarce resources, the household maintains what they call “normal chaos”: children’s laughter during blackout board games, collaborative meals combining pelmeni dumplings with Sichuan pepper. “Food is our diplomatic channel,” chuckled Mr. Vasyl Petrenko, a former physics teacher.
While Hou worries about family in the Chinese mainland and his hosts’ relatives on the front lines, the arrangement highlights the conflict’s overlooked human bridges. Over 1,200 Chinese students remained in Ukraine as of August 2023, according to unofficial estimates, many relying on local networks for survival.
“War strips away everything except what matters,” Hou reflected. “Here, we’re just people keeping each other alive.”
Reference(s):
cgtn.com
