Adventure

To me, adventure means stepping into discomfort, embracing uncertainty, and trusting myself to grow through it all. It’s not always loud or flashy—it can be quiet moments of fear, followed by the courage to continue anyway.

I still remember the first time I strapped myself into a snowboard. The slope looked impossibly steep, and my balance felt like it belonged to someone else. Falling became part of the process, and getting up—again and again—became my silent promise to myself. Learning how to snowboard wasn’t just about the snow or the gear; it was about facing fear, letting go of control, and discovering that strength often hides in persistence.

A similar kind of courage was needed underwater. I used to be deeply afraid of the ocean, especially the silence and depth of open water. But I challenged myself to learn scuba diving—and with every deep breath and kick forward, I felt my fear dissolving into wonder. The deep sea, once a source of anxiety, became a space of freedom and perspective.

Perhaps the biggest adventure of all was moving from Shenzhen to Leeds—more than 9,600 kilometers away—for university. It was the first time I had ever left home alone as an adult. I left behind a familiar language, food, rhythm, and climate for something entirely new. And yet, every unfamiliar street, accent, and small cultural difference taught me more about the world—and about myself—than I could have imagined.

These adventures, though wildly different, share one thing in common: they taught me how to trust change. And with every new step, I become more ready for the next.