'Unlike us, who may spend most of our time going after money and fame, and often end up being unhappy, people there lead a peaceful life and have never enjoyed any material comforts whatsoever, but they are still happy and cheerful,' says the 26-year-old charity worker.

'Perhaps that is what life should be.'

Her story began six years ago when she learned about a project that helped to build schools for underprivileged children in Guangdong province through local charity Nurturing the Youth Association.

While still a communications student, Ms Chan became concerned about the welfare of children living in remote rural areas.

She says: 'Most of their parents earn so little that they can barely afford their school fees. The last thing I want is to see their right to receive an education being taken away.'

So in 1995, she decided to pack her bags for Qing Yuan, a rural county that lies on the far northern outskirts of Guangdong province, to become an elementary teacher.

Last year, she had about 70 students in her class, aged between eight and 15, all of whom had either been forced to drop out from school or had never gone to one at all.

The sprightly Baptist University graduate taught students Chinese and geography.

'Rural simplicity is something that I've been longing for,' Ms Chan says. 'And my experience with the children totally changed my outlook on life. A rich life should be about giving, not taking.'

Last October, together with a friend, Ms Chan went back to Qing Yuan to teach again - this time for two months, her longest stay in the mainland yet.

Bai Wan, where the school she was teaching in is located, is one of the four poorest towns in Guangdong, according to the provincial Government.

The average income per person there is less than 300 yuan (around HK$280) a year.

'You won't see infrastructures that we take for granted in Hong Kong. Roads are so rough that you can't even ride a bicycle on them. There is a power supply, but you can't rely on it. Drinking water has to be drawn from wells, and having a TV set is a total luxury,' Ms Chan says.

She says the very first time she stepped into the classroom, she was surrounded by dozens of curious faces. It made her uncomfortable.

'It was the first time I found myself a total stranger in a place,' she said.

What happened later was like a scene from Not One Less. The children were shy in the beginning. However, after a few lessons, they began to get along with the stranger. And some children who seemed quiet and reserved turned out to be quite boisterous.

'Some of them then started peppering me with all sorts of questions like where are you from, why are you here, what do you do in Hong Kong or are you married? . . .'

Apart from these cheerful snapshots, there were also some moving moments when she could barely hold back her tears.

'There was a skinny little 15-year-old girl in my class who had to negotiate a rough and narrow trail across the mountains for an hour-and-a-half to get to class,' Ms Chan recalls.

'One day she came up to me, held my hand and thanked me for letting her come to school again. Before that she had to drop out of school to help her parents on their corn farm. From that moment onwards I felt everything I had done was worthwhile.'

The organisation recently took on two full-time teachers to run the class. However, the students still outnumber the teachers.

'Having two indigenous teachers join us is a step forward, but that is far from enough,' she says. 'I hope what I am doing right now can inspire more people to help eradicate illiteracy in the mainland.'