Right here, meet Wuxia Guji 👋🏻

She expressed her concern. To her, other people are clear and predictable; she can generally foresee their future life paths. But with me, she sees a fog, an unpredictability. At the same time, my way of thinking and expressing myself is different—she doesn’t know where I will eventually flow. “But that doesn’t matter at all, Professor,” I said.

“Wenyan” is my graduate advisor. She is one of my anchors. Her life is constructed by research, students, papers, children, and teaching activities. Wenyan rarely changes; the radius of her life is built strictly between school and home. Consequently, I want to record every offline interaction I have with her, using it to document the changes between our two distinct individual existences. Or rather, the person undergoing more changes is entirely me; every time I re-engage in conversation with her, I can see my own evolution.

Therefore, using my advisor Wenyan as a pivot to record our conversations and thoughts, how will this evolve over a few months, half a year, a year, several years, or even decades? Two living individuals continuously separating and interacting, separating and interacting again, and the resulting changes—I think this is an absolutely fascinating endeavor.

Sitting in a café facing my laptop, likely presenting a countenance of calm immersion in work, I suddenly heard someone speak: “Why are you sitting here?” Looking up, I found that Professor Wenyan had already arrived. Yes, she was still carrying her backpack. I had told her I was here, but I assumed she would notify me in advance when she was close. “Yes, Professor, I was just handling some work! It doesn’t seem quite suitable for talking inside, let’s head out.”

Thus, we went out to the terrace, rolled open a large umbrella ourselves, and sat in the shade to chat. I was on the right, the professor was on the left, she was still wearing her backpack, and I sat down casually to begin our conversation.

Wenyan first asked how I had been recently, and I talked copiously about my personal state, work state, and the recent events and transformations in my life.

Wenyan: “So, what are your plans? What are your goals?”

Wuxia: “I do have plans and goals. In the short term, it’s writing text, completing two novels, and writing a book for my mother. I also need to refine my website, and my personal art pieces are still missing a few components. Long term, it might include going abroad for a PhD, though it’s not completely clear yet. Once it is finalized, I will tell you, Professor.”

Wenyan: “Which country? Why? I remember you told me before.”

Wuxia: “Germany or France. It’s solely to gain an experience—to immerse myself completely in doing something. At the same time, I need to place myself in an entirely unfamiliar cultural background and a completely different environment to see what transformations will occur.”

Personality and Concern

The majority of the subsequent dialogue followed a pattern where the professor would introduce a topic, and I would expand and deepen it.

Wenyan: “You are arguably one of the most unique personalities among all my students, and at the same time, the one I worry about.”

Wuxia (myself): “Where does your worry come from, Professor?”

Wenyan: “Look at your fellow labmate. When I look at her, I can generally tell that in the near future, she will date, get married, continue working, and so on. But as for you…”

I understood immediately. In the past, I might have interpreted “personality” as dyeing hair, wearing strange clothes, rebellion, or being unconventional. But this simply means that this student has her own internal operating system.

Wuxia: “I know exactly what you are saying, Professor. To you, she is clear and predictable; you generally know her future life trajectory. Or rather, you are clear about others as well—such as a straight path from a Master’s to a PhD and then into academia. But with me, you are unclear. You see me wrapped in a fog, unpredictable. At the same time, my way of thinking and expressing myself is different; you don’t know where I will eventually flow. But it doesn’t matter at all, Professor.”

Thus, I also suddenly realized that while I was asking the professor why she was worried, the moment she offered the description of my peer, I caught her exact meaning and began translating myself for her. I wasn’t merely extracting an answer; I was analyzing the questioner herself.

Simultaneously, I realized my way of questioning is entirely unconventional—perhaps not exactly strange, but certainly unlike the vast majority within this academic circle.

On Marriage, Family, and Extending Existence

She asked me again if I had found a boyfriend, telling me to set a time node for myself: when to date, when to marry.

Wuxia: “Professor, I know many people live in this world relying on a family and children to sustain their lives and expand their life boundaries. But I have my writing, I have my website and novels, I might pursue a PhD later, and I might achieve other milestones that connect me to more people. Creation, to me, is a way of extending life. I am not rejecting marriage or children, nor am I an anti-marriage dogmatist; I am merely saying it is not an absolute necessity. I am letting things take their natural course.”

This question, at its core, is a dialogue about how life extends itself. Wenyan naturally considers the sequence of individual-family-children-next generation as the primary path for life’s continuation. Her checking if I have a boyfriend is her checking where my future anchor lies. This isn’t necessarily prompting or trying to force me into a specific path; it’s simply that within her cognitive framework, family is the definition of an anchor. I didn’t say I reject relationships; I merely stood from the perspective of a creator: life’s extension doesn’t exclusively occur within bloodlines; it also happens within words, thoughts, works, influence, and the people one connects with.

Wenyan might not necessarily align with this, but she likely sensed that this student was not talking about the same thing she was. She was discussing life arrangements; I was discussing life expression.

Wenyan: “My child said to me: ‘Mom, I feel so happy.’ When I look at her, I think, wow! A stable family is truly wonderful.”

Wuxia: “Yes, Professor. You saw a broader world through her eyes; you witnessed a different reality through her curiosity. You extended your life and broadened your boundaries through her vision. A stable and happy family is vital, but if it doesn’t happen that way, it isn’t necessarily a tragedy.”

Wuxia: “Speaking of myself. Professor, although my parents didn’t divorce, my mother talked about divorce before. She only chose not to separate to provide an environment where the child had both a father and a mother. My thought at the time was—go ahead and divorce, it’s fine. I could completely accept the divorce; I just couldn’t accept my mother leaving me. In my family, I have no communication or interaction with my father. Professor, as you know, I have three older sisters, and one was given away. I am the fourth daughter in the family. I was sent away too, and later brought back. Therefore, my mother has watched me with long-term intensity because I am the child who was almost lost and then returned to the family. Professor, I actually experienced some dark things in my childhood as well, though I won’t expand on the details. I come from a chaotic family structure like this, but it doesn’t matter at all—it actually gave me a unique lens and perspective to look at things. Many people born into unstable families have certain traits shaped by it, but it entirely depends on how you process it. For instance, Steve Jobs was adopted, and Elon Musk’s parents divorced.”

Many biographers note that such individuals realize very early on a certain distance between themselves and their surroundings, which leads them to develop independence, self-drive, and a powerful desire to reshape the world ahead of their time.

It seems that many of my statements serve to translate Wenyan. She gives me an opening, and I can sing the rest of the entire play. She might not define her own experiences this way, but I use my own language to understand her. We are actually discussing the same underlying theme: how life transcends itself. Only our paths differ. Regarding trauma, what I express is that trauma can be transformed—it can turn into creativity.

Because given the exact same family background, one person grows creativity, another grows hyper-vigilance, another grows a need for control, and another grows self-doubt, remaining trapped inside for a lifetime. Therefore, what is truly precious is not the trauma itself, but how a person later processes that trauma. Wenyan emphasizes how a stable family makes a person happy; I am describing how an unstable family shapes a person’s way of seeing. I experienced chaos, so I gained a distinct vantage point of observation.

Possibilities Outside Daily Routines

Wuxia: “Professor, your current environment—staying within academia, inside the university, with a rock-solid family—means you live in a highly secure, very simple environment. This kind of life is genuinely wonderful. But Professor, have you ever thought about exploring possibilities outside of daily routines? I don’t mean seeking thrills; I mean possibilities beyond the everyday—wanting to execute, wanting to attempt, wanting to think about something entirely different.”

Wenyan: “I do participate in various activities organized by different campus groups. Other teachers aren’t interested, but I am.”

But that wasn’t actually what I meant. I meant novel, rule-breaking endeavors, or organizing things spontaneously. At its core, the question I asked was: Have you ever actively broken through your own life boundaries? What Wenyan heard was: Is your leisure life outside of research rich and fulfilled?

On Mirroring Ourselves Through Others’ Facets

I showed the professor my articles. Wenyan asked: “Are the events in these articles all true?”

I said: “They are all completely true.”

I showed her the comments section. She pointed to a comment on the article I wrote about Xuyan’s divorce (where the man said if I don’t divorce, I won’t survive). The professor said, “Oh, I agree with this comment. It basically says that once you have children, it’s best not to get a divorce—this comment right here.”

Wuxia: “Professor, my view on these comments is that I have no view. These comments merely represent their specific worldviews and values, slices of their respective lives. I see all kinds of lives; I don’t judge, I simply observe.”

Yes, because Wenyan brought up another highly lively and bubbly student as an example, someone who interacts joyfully with her. She likely felt we shared some commonality.

Wuxia: “Professor, she and I are different. She is indeed lively and expressive, but she is genuinely that simple or sincere. I am different from her; our vitalities operate on entirely different planes. I can project a highly vivacious, expressive side. I can dress up to look flamboyant and striking, but at my core, I still have those moments of cold scrutiny and a distinct angle of viewing things. My foundation contains sharp elements, chaotic elements. But it doesn’t matter—I see them, and I will direct them to where they belong rather than suppressing them. This is the most fundamental difference between us.”

Wenyan was searching her cognitive database of human specimens and thought she found a model matching me, which I refuted. My expression was: the surface layer appears similar, but the core engine runs on a completely different logic.

Ah! I am constantly countering Wenyan, or rather, she questions me, and I question her back. Fortunately, my advisor possesses a gentle temperament and doesn’t hold it against me, often treating my statements as mere creative divergence or words passing through the wind. Frequently, after she throws out a prompt, I expand it and deepen those subjects. For instance, I note that the surface matches but the core differs, or I ask: Why is family important? Is a child the only definition of life? Are there other ways for life to unfold outside of a family structure?

Through Wenyan, I can immediately detect how people use the life models they are familiar with to comprehend me. Consequently, I begin to observe that many people place me into their predefined frameworks. My preferred state, however, is not to be framed at all, but simply to be allowed to develop and observe—just as I look at the comments section, asking: Oh, what kind of life experience did this comment originate from?

Wenyan didn’t seem entirely satisfied with my answers, or perhaps she still wanted to hear the explicit, concrete target responses she is familiar with. Thus, when we finally parted and she waved goodbye, she explicitly emphasized:

Wenyan: “Next time we meet, I want to hear the main axis of your long-term goals, understood?” Wuxia: “Oh, alright, Professor.”

Post-Credits

She read my texts and offered only two sentences: Wenyan: “Your brain works exceptionally well.” Wenyan: “Even if you present yourself as strong, everyone has moments of vulnerability. I hope you have a fallback system.”

When she said my brain works well, it likely referred to my capacity for comprehension, modeling, abstraction, expression, and meta-dialogue—as well as my way of viewing the world. Her second sentence showed that after reading everything, her primary concern wasn’t where I would flow; Wenyan cared about what happens if I get exhausted. This is a statement arriving strictly from the perspective of an advisor and a maternal figure. I have consistently stood from the perspective of a creator; she stands from the perspective of an advisor, a witness, and a nurturer. Regarding Wenyan’s words, I said: “I will remember that, Professor. Alright, I’ll add this exact sentence to the end. (Mm, only now does this become a complete article! Good!)”

Wenyan sent a meme expressing a mix of laughter and tears.