“You must tell yourself: if I believe something is right, it doesn’t matter who I am.” — I.M. Pei

I’ve always believed in taking action, not waiting.

Back in elementary school, I was known as the class “bookworm.” My collection could fill an entire cabinet, and I had read almost every popular science book sold at the local Xinhua bookstore. But I soon realized that the two hours between school and the store’s closing time weren’t enough for everyone to enjoy these books. That’s when I had an idea: what if my books could serve more people? In fourth grade, I created a self-managed book-sharing system: I compiled a catalog of all my books, accepted advance reservations, and rented them out for a few cents per day. I brought the books to class the next day, according to the orders. Surprisingly, the service became so popular that demand exceeded supply—and for a time, I became the “wealthiest” student in the class. I used the profits to buy new books and, more importantly, had my first encounter with the real-world value of combining knowledge, responsibility, and creativity. If I had to describe myself in one sentence, I would say: I’m someone with a strong sense of mission, a taste for risk, and a willingness to bet responsibly on a better future. That drive—the need to create and change—has always been part of me. I’ve never been satisfied with taking rules as they are; instead, I instinctively look for better alternatives. I also never believed “being young” was a reason not to try. Whether it was the book-sharing project that got shut down by my teacher after a semester, or the non-profit tech organization EXEDRAL I founded in middle school after being inspired by Iron Man—initially ridiculed by classmates, but eventually joined by college students and researchers—or the startups I led in college that weathered multiple near-breakdowns, none of these efforts were about proving I was talented or successful. They were about testing a hypothesis: Can imagination become reality? Can action shift even a small part of the future? In my first year of college, I read Elon Musk: Tesla, SpaceX, and the Quest for a Fantastic Future in four sleepless nights—not for a test, not for a project, but for myself. I was consumed by the intensity of his world. That was when I realized: Iron Man isn’t just a movie character—he can be real. Musk’s way of thinking, his obsessive commitment to grand visions, and his brutal, pragmatic reasoning shook me deeply. I understood then that I resonated with him. Like him, I am drawn to grand narratives, and I am not afraid to commit everything to pursue them. My fascination with Iron Man in middle school planted the seed for my passion for AI and technological rationality, while my sensitivity to narrative and human experience led me to explore sociology. That’s why I chose architecture—a field that bridges technology, art, and humanity. Studying architecture has given me systems thinking, a human-centered mindset, and an ability to translate user needs into design logic. My research in building technology, in particular, introduced me to the methodology of integrating technology with human values—a direction I now pursue more deeply in the field of AI.

I’ve had moments of deep doubt and personal struggle. Every low point became a confrontation with myself. But I operate in a kind of “inner loop”—constantly reviewing what I’ve done and asking whether it could be better. During one such difficult period, I kept asking myself: Am I really cut out to be an entrepreneur? My answer is yes.

“If something is important enough, even if the odds are against you, you should still do it.” I’ve always been driven by something internal—not by praise or rewards, but by a vision that I believe is worth everything I can give. This vision isn’t abstract. It’s a world where technology truly serves human well-being, and where ordinary people have more choices and greater freedom. Even if I am destined to fail, entrepreneurship is still the life I choose. It’s the only mode of living where I feel fully alive—driven by passion and imagination. If life must eventually fade into silence, then: “Either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

I’ve never seen myself as a bystander to the future—I aim to be the one who presses the launch button. I see myself as a research-to-application talent: research without application risks becoming empty theory, and application without research can hardly bring real breakthroughs. Everything I’ve chosen leads to a single question: How can I use real products and systematic methods to bring technology to bear on problems that truly matter? And I believe that—just like in that fourth-grade moment—the fusion of knowledge, responsibility, and creativity will always have the power to change the world. I can’t claim I’m ready for everything. But I’ve always chosen to move toward the place where uncertainty holds the most hope.