Why I Chose This Path

A Confession Over Tea: Why I’m Obsessed with Love Stories

It started with a tea set.

I was ten years old, sitting cross-legged in my grandparents’ courtyard in Beijing. My grandmother loved telling me stories while brewing her jasmine tea with this old, chipped porcelain pot she swore was from the Qing Dynasty. The story that day was about how she met my grandfather—a chance encounter during a storm that left her stranded at a bookstore. He handed her a tattered collection of Tang dynasty poetry, and the rest, as they say, was history. But the part that stuck with me wasn’t her happy ending. It was the dramatic pauses, the wistful sighs, the way real life imitated poetry, carrying all the intensity of Li Bai’s verses yet still acknowledging the messiness of imperfect humans.

That’s the day I fell in love with love stories—and not just the grand ones spun into epics or dripping in cinematic flair. I loved the small moments, the curious connections, the awkward silences, and the heartbreaks we don’t think we’ll survive (but always do).

Did I think this would shape my career? Nope. But life, like love, doesn’t always follow a five-year plan.

Tradition, Myth, and a Swipe at Modernity

Fast-forward a couple of decades, and I’m someone who juggled translating ancient Chinese sonnets and then switched gears to writing contemporary romance novels—a blend of myth, tradition, and whatever wild ideas came to me while people-watching at a coffee shop. You might wonder: why not just stick to Shanghai skyscrapers for inspiration or dive deep into Qing dynasty ceremonial guards?

The answer lies in tension.

When I first lived in New York as an exchange student, it struck me how casual people were about dating. They met, they ghosted, they reappeared two months later with a “Hey, you up?” sort of text that defied logic. But at that same time, I felt the pull of my Beijing upbringing—the belief that love was something to be honored, something sacred yet complicated, filled with both poetry and responsibility. Reconciling those two worlds wasn’t just my personal quandary; it became my creative playground.

So when I sit down to write for this publication, that’s what I try to capture. Not the picture-perfect romance where everything aligns in a storybook arc, but the messy, beautiful gray areas—where uncertainty meets excitement, where history flirts with the modern.

Love Means Never Being Boring

Here’s the thing: relationships aren’t picture frames; they’re abstract paintings.

Case in point—have you ever met someone who insists on planning that “perfect” first date, only to watch the whole thing unravel? There was a guy in college I once went out with who, in an attempt to impress me, took me to a dumpling-making class. He didn’t know that dough and I have the worst relationship imaginable. Long story short, my dumpling disintegrated mid-boil, and he accidentally flung soy sauce on my favorite scarf. That could’ve been the end then and there. But he leaned over the table, all serious, and whispered, “It’s okay...we can tell people it’s conceptual art.”

We dated for six months.

The point here isn’t that humor saves everything (though it helps). It’s that anyone who’s pursued love—not just “boyfriend”, “girlfriend”, “situationship” love, but all forms of connection—knows one universal truth: love requires embracing imperfection. It’s not what makes it easier. It’s what makes it memorable.

And that’s why I chose this path. Writing about relationships means addressing those gloriously messy dumpling stories, the arguments over pizza toppings, the makeups, the heartbreaks, and everything in between.

But Writing About Love? Isn’t That...Cheesy?

Sometimes, sure. Writing about love means toeing the line between heartfelt and Hallmark. And people love to roll their eyes at the “soft” topics. I once met someone at a networking event who, when I told them what I write about, asked if it involved “wedding hashtags” or “how to text your crush back without looking desperate.”

(For the record: 1. Wedding hashtags are underrated. 2. “Looking desperate” is just society’s way of villainizing people who care.)

But here’s the reality: love and connection are universal. They drive us, frustrate us, and define us more than all the “serious” topics combined. You can run a company or invent an app that changes the world, but at the end of the day, you’re still the person texting “good night” to someone you hope texts back.

Even Confucius—Confucius of all people, the philosopher whose quotes we plaster on motivational posters—recognized that love shapes our world more than we care to admit. “To love is not to possess, but to respect and treasure.” Not bad for a guy born over 2,500 years ago, huh?

What I’ve Learned from Writing About Relationships

Let me leave you with this secret: writing about relationships isn’t about perfect advice or answering every question. (Though I try, because let’s face it: offering advice is irresistible.) It’s about shared human experience—those moments that remind you that you’re not alone.

Here’s some of what I’ve learned along the way:

  • Timing matters, but less than you think. Sure, the meet-cute moment might be out of a movie, but relationships don’t thrive because someone walked into your life at the right second. They thrive because both of you put in the work.
  • Flaws first, problems later. Focus on accepting quirks before tackling big relationship hurdles. Everyone orders a weird coffee or has a secret collection of limited-edition Pez dispensers. Lean in; that’s the person you’re dating.
  • Grand gestures rarely fix things. A bouquet of flowers is sweet, but nothing beats someone remembering the tiny details—like how you take your tea or the song you secretly cry to when you’re stressed out.

Why I’m Still Chasing Love Stories

For me, writing about dating and love isn’t a job; it’s like being entrusted with other people’s dumpling disasters and their quiet triumphs. Whether they come to hear that someone gets it, laugh a little, or actually take away some advice, I’m here for it.

Because real love stories don’t belong in fairy tales or rom-com montages. They exist in the real world, where people’s flour-covered hands make sticky dumplings, or where a forgotten poem reminds someone why they fell for their partner in the first place.

So, here’s my takeaway: Relationships will never be perfect. But the pursuit—whether it’s filled with dates that involve conceptual art-level mishaps or moments of unshakable certainty—is always, always worth it.