I grew up beneath the dazzling light of other people in bloom.
To some, such brilliance is a source of envy. To me, it has always been something to aspire to. Ever since I was young, I have admired many people with all my heart. Whether they were far away or close beside me, they were people I looked up to. I watched them. I learned from them. I imitated them.
I was a late bloomer. It was not until high school that I began to come into my own. But blooming late does not mean I am mature now, much less that I am outstanding or successful.
After achieving a little in high school, I briefly escaped the shadow of other people’s brilliance and came to believe that I was one of a kind. Then I entered university and met many more remarkable people. Only then did I realize that my smallness had not changed. My ambition had.
Perhaps this is a passage we are meant to make in life: from a temporary sense of inferiority, to the self-deceiving pride that follows it, and then to a sense of inferiority that lasts a lifetime. The first is inferiority in its truest sense. The second is a humbler kind of inferiority. In the right measure, it can become a force that drives us forward. In excess, it can destroy us.
Now I understand that I will spend my entire life growing beneath the dazzling light of others, until the day I die. Yet the faint light I give off can still shine alongside the brilliance of those remarkable people.
Zhengyang Yao
Beijing, August 12, 2026