How Do I Define Myself?

People often ask me: What do you do?

It seems like such a simple question, yet every time I hear it, I find myself pausing. A business card might say Product Designer, my LinkedIn profile might read Brand Strategist, but can a few words really capture the full picture of a person? I doubt it.

From a Young Ad Student to a Creative Dreamer

In 2020, at eighteen, I walked into Zhejiang Wanli University with the excitement of youth, choosing a major that sounded stylish—Sino-German Advertising. To be honest, my choice was less about calculation and more about a naive belief: people in advertising must be creative, fashionable, like the sharp, confident characters I had seen in films.

Reality quickly humbled me. Creativity wasn’t a lightning bolt from the sky; it was discipline, psychology, and insight into human behavior. I devoured classic campaigns—Ogilvy’s We Try Harder, Leo Burnett’s Reach for the Stars. Each case wasn’t just clever; it was layered with business wisdom and human empathy.

I spent two years like a sponge, absorbing everything. From small advertising competitions to leading a design team at school, I grew from clumsy imitation to independent thinking. Awards were modest, but each win convinced me I was heading the right way.

The Sweetness and Bitterness of First Entrepreneurship

At twenty, full of fire, I co-founded a small agency with a friend. Looking back, it was reckless. At the time, it felt glorious.

Our office was a tiny second-floor room in an old building, but sunlight streamed in every morning. That light felt like a promise. Somehow, in our very first year, we won over fifty clients, from tiny restaurants to chain stores. We surfed the rising tide of social media marketing, helping local businesses grow.

Then came a surreal opportunity—I joined forces with the president of the Youth Entrepreneurs Association on a city project. Together we helped create a cultural landmark in Ningbo: TALKLOOK Art Farm. At just twenty, sitting across from government officials and business leaders, I thought I had discovered the secret to business.

The peak came when Forbes China invited me to design their NFT certificate. It was my first brush with cutting-edge technology, and I believed I was unstoppable.

Germany: A Different Mirror

But as Socrates said: I know that I know nothing. Success didn’t make me arrogant; it made me restless. I went to Germany to study brand management.

Those early days were brutal. Even in English-speaking courses, my language faltered. I still remember sitting in class, knowing the answer yet unable to form the words. It felt like my throat was locked. From that day, I swore to master English.

Six months later, through sheer repetition—BBC mornings, movies at dinner, vocabulary at night—I broke through. I no longer translated in my head; I thought directly in English.

Then, I truly began to see brands. German education drilled into us: theory must live in practice. I realized how much my earlier ventures had lacked: real market research, grounded strategy, sustainable planning.

Failure, Again, and What It Taught Me

In Germany, I tried again—this time, a fashion label with friends. We poured ourselves into logos, colors, and slogans, but forgot to ask: who is our customer? What do they need? The result was predictable—failure. Painful, yes, but illuminating.

As Lin Yutang once said: The joy of life lies not in possession, but in the pursuit itself.

Lessons From a Social Media Entrepreneur

Later, I collaborated with a social-media-famous entrepreneur. My brand theories solved some of his problems, but when I pushed deeper—brand philosophy, culture, values—he stopped me: That doesn’t matter as much. Each industry plays by different rules.

It struck me like a thunderbolt. He was right. Theory matters, but only when tied to reality. A newborn brand doesn’t need a manifesto; it needs a good product and loyal customers.

That lesson reshaped me.

Academia, Tech, and the Rise of AI

While preparing for graduate school, I dove into projects: UI, UX, coding, psychology. I discovered the thrill of crossing disciplines—when different worlds collide, sparks fly.

Then came the AI wave. ChatGPT arrived in late 2022, and I felt the ground shift beneath us. To me, it was like being handed a key to infinite knowledge. While most people in China hadn’t heard of it yet, I sensed opportunity. I built one of the first student-led AI services for Chinese students abroad. Within months, thousands joined.

But growth without profit is a mirage. Soon, domestic giants rolled out their own AI models, costs ballooned, and our little venture collapsed. We closed shop with pride in what we had sparked, and regret in what we hadn’t solved.

The lesson? Vision and technology matter, but without a business model, nothing lasts.

Choosing a New Direction

That failure became my compass. I realized I didn’t just want to build products—I wanted to understand business itself. I chose SCAD’s Design Management program over the more fashionable HCI. Many thought it unwise. But I knew: I didn’t want to be just a designer. I wanted to be the bridge—the one who sees the whole picture.

Transformation at SCAD

At SCAD, I learned to speak the language of business—finance, research, leadership. I also discovered the power of networking. Conversations with Silicon Valley PMs, Wall Street analysts, startup founders, and creative directors showed me that my path didn’t have to be linear.

An Unexpected Role: Product Designer

Through a friend, I landed a role as a product designer for a startup. I had doubts—I was stronger in strategy than UI. But I embraced the challenge. The company asked for a UI; I delivered research, UX, and a full design strategy. What others saw as low pay, I saw as a rare proving ground.

The Many Masks I Wear

At the same time, my personal account grew to thousands of followers. Opportunities flooded in: consulting, advising, building. Yet with every new role, a new question arose: Who am I really?

Am I a designer, strategist, entrepreneur, consultant?

Sometimes, I worry I lack depth. Other times, I see it differently: in a volatile world, versatility is the deepest strength. Every role has added a layer to my understanding of how the world works.

My Definition: An Explorer, Always on the Road

If I must define myself, then I am an explorer, always on the road.

I resist staying too long in one comfort zone. I value diversity over narrow mastery, connection over isolation. I see myself as a bridge-builder—between cultures, between disciplines, between people and ideas.

I strive to create value, to give more than I am asked. I stay sensitive to the pulse of the times—NFTs, AI, sustainability, product design—each wave teaching me to ride change rather than fear it.

Most of all, I remain a lifelong learner. In a world of rapid shifts, curiosity and adaptability are worth more than any single skill.

The road ahead is long. But I am always walking.