Today marks the first year since my loved one passed away.

It seems like an ordinary day.
Woke up early for a meeting, completed today's work. As scheduled, I went to my loved one's grave, we are Muslims, invited some imams to recite prayers for him. Held a memorial dinner, invited some relatives I wasn't very familiar with, and even met some for the first time, everyone gathered together.
I'm not someone who likes to add tragic narratives to myself.
But I think, my experience and the psychological process of moving on might bring some strength to friends going through a low period.
In the past year, I experienced the loss of a loved one, a margin call, losing money, and I fell into depression.
It's hard to imagine that someone like me, often called "Little Sun" by friends—high-energy, optimistic, always full of vigor—would actually be depressed.
Even my closest family members didn't realize I was depressed; I was suffering alone in the pain of depression.
How did I realize I was depressed? It’s a bit funny to say.
It wasn't until I developed somatic symptoms that I realized I wasn't just sad and upset—I was depressed.
I used to be someone who could sleep over ten hours a day, always feeling I didn't get enough sleep. During the worst of my depression, I only had one or two hours of very shallow sleep each day, with headaches to the point of banging my head against the wall, skin all over my body hurting to the touch, especially my back, no matter how I massaged it—Thai traditional massage, Chinese medicine tui na, Western physiotherapy, spa treatments—all couldn't relieve the soreness.
I couldn't tell if this was real nerve pain or phantom pain caused by mental suffering.
Even the smallest ordinary things could make me burst into tears; small setbacks would cause me to break down and cry.
It was only then that I realized I seemed to be mentally ill.
I'm not someone who likes to complain or burden others with my sadness like Xianglin Sao; for me, that’s a boundaryless thing and disrespectful to myself.
Sadness is a very private matter for me.
I didn't take medication; I chose to work like crazy. For five whole months, I didn't rest for a single day. After finishing work, I would find other things to do, constantly pushing myself harder, exhausting myself to the limit, then forcing myself to sleep.
Later, I realized this was actually a form of escape.
No external force or person could save me. Even though I knew my loved ones cared about me deeply, in this silent understanding, we kept each other warm.
It was precisely during the darkest moments of my life that I discovered some things about myself that I couldn't erase.
The first is courage.
Facing pain requires immense courage, and courage is precisely an inexhaustible gift I possess.
When I was in college, I started experimenting with entrepreneurship. My first income-generating project was a networking-type job search: I charged 199 yuan for joining a group, bringing North American international students into my internship recruitment group. The group would have various internship postings, with 199 yuan including resume optimization and a chance to join the group, and everyone could submit freely.
In the third month, I earned my first 100k RMB in my life. It seems small now, but at that time, it was a huge achievement for students.
My life's theme seems to be loving to tinker. I especially love to tinker; as long as I feel comfortable, I start tinkering—"comfort" is a terrifying thing.
Born in hardship, dying in ease, isn't it?
The first step to facing pain is to find an outlet for my emotions and longing—here, I thank AI.
I used AI to distill a language model for those who have left; it's very simple, even rough, but it was my only emotional outlet, and I’ve been optimizing it.
Recently, I plan to turn it into an interactive mini-program to share with my loved ones, so I can continuously collect their shared memories of those who have left, along with perspectives I haven't seen, allowing this silicon-based entity to replace the carbon-based one, so that those who have left are always present.
The second is willpower.
I believe that under the drive of willpower, people are capable of anything.
I believe in myself.
In "Interstellar," there's a line: "Love is the one thing that transcends time and space."
Love is the third dimension that transcends time and space, and it is also a most mysterious force. I have integrated love and longing into my willpower, into my bloodline inheritance. I endured depression without medication.
The third is faith.
At age 12, I saw "How to Become a Very Awesome Person" on Zhihu, and since then, I was determined to become that kind of person, and I have been working towards it ever since.
But until now, I haven't concretely quantified what "a very awesome person" means.
Is it being better than others? Or better than myself? Whether compared sequentially or year-over-year, I still don't know what "very awesome" really means.
For this definition, I now have a vague sense:
"Very awesome" is a feedback I give myself. I don't need to compare with anyone, not even with myself. It’s a kind of self-assessment that doesn't require comparison.
I'm 25 now, and I still believe I can become a very awesome person, and of course, I’ve experienced many moments I consider myself very awesome.
This belief has always supported and fueled me, filling me with imagination and anticipation for the future.
This is my foundation.
The qualities that shine through even in the darkest moments are my foundation.
Recently, I met some people and encountered some things. The light in them ignited me.
This ignition isn’t about absorbing energy from others, nor is it about needing to be saved by anyone; it’s a kind of high-energy contagion that makes you remember who you are.
That feeling of being ignited is called hope.
The power to ignite others is a kind of ultimate romanticism of human nature. I will add this romantic narrative—just like when I first watched "Titanic" as a child, at an age when I couldn't understand love, what impressed me most wasn't how deeply the male and female leads loved each other, but the musicians on the deck as the Titanic was sinking.
They stood on the deck, playing music on a sinking giant ship, comforting people. This is the scene I rate highest in that movie—an ultimate romantic moment of human nature.
I also want to pass on this power of igniting others to everyone reading this article, like a torch, passing this strength along.
Now, I have been reignited. From a low-energy, dark mouse to picking up my favorite sports again—tennis, golf—persisting in thinking, writing, researching AI.
Not to prove anything to anyone, but because that spark has returned, and I want it to burn brighter and brighter.
I love myself very much; I love myself more than anyone else in this world.
When I was very young, I asked my mom what success was. At the end of this article, I also want to share this sentence with everyone.
My mom only said one thing:
In a place you love, with people you like, doing what you love, always filled with love and hope for this world and yourself.