Shenzhen — a city like no other to me

I first realized how special Shenzhen is while walking on the boardwalk at Shenzhen Bay Park.

The sunset was beautiful that day. I was gazing at the migratory birds on the tidal flats when a drone flew overhead, carrying a milk tea steadily to a campsite across the water. In that moment, I suddenly understood why this city fascinates me so much — it allows drones and migratory birds to share the same skyline, without disturbing one another.

That image, I think, is what I understand as "technology and gentleness coexisting."

From Khabarovsk to Shenzhen Bay

I grew up in Khabarovsk in the Russian Far East, and as a child I would often look out my window toward China across the river. When I started learning Chinese at 12, I never imagined I'd actually become fluent — back then, I only had textbooks and headphones, no Chinese friends, no language environment. The turning point came from a Chinese teacher from Northeast China who had studied in Russia. His classes dramatically improved my speaking skills. So much so that when I later came to study in China, my friends said my Chinese had a "Northeastern accent." Now I really do say *咋办* instead of *怎么办*, and I've happily accepted the title of "half Northeasterner."

I had quite a few funny moments when I first arrived in China. I remember the first time a friend said "this is too sweet" — I had no idea what they meant. In Russia, desserts are supposed to be sweet; we grew up with that. Later I learned that when Chinese people say "too sweet," it's often not a description but a judgment, sometimes even a polite criticism. In China, the highest praise for a dessert is precisely "this isn't too sweet." After living here longer, I've gradually gotten used to this endearing preference. These small details helped me understand that cross-cultural communication isn't just about language conversion — it's about switching mindsets.

I chose the Peking University HSBC Business School because I wanted to delve deeper into a field where logic and sensibility intertwine. And Shenzhen gave me an unexpected gift: here, I'm finally no longer "the only foreigner."

On campus, I have classmates from all over the world. Despite our completely different cultural backgrounds, we can sit together and discuss, collaborate. Once during a group project, an international student very directly pointed out another student's mistake in our group chat, which caused a minor misunderstanding. I understood that the student meant to be "direct about the matter, not the person," but in Chinese communication habits, being tactful and maintaining relationships is equally important. I privately talked to both classmates and helped them understand each other's intentions. This experience made me realize that I've quietly adapted to Chinese communication styles while still retaining my understanding of Western perspectives — now I often do a little "translation" between Chinese and international classmates, not just of language, but of the logic behind the culture.

In class, Professor C.James Yen's business ethics course gave me an unforgettable "awakening moment." That day, he had us write down six roles we play in life — daughter, student, friend, intern... then cross them out one by one until only one remained. Then we added future roles and repeated the elimination process. When that final "one" emerged, Professor Yen asked us: does that last role really represent who you are?

In that moment, I realized that I often treated temporary roles — like student, intern — as identity itself, pouring enormous energy into proving myself. But roles are situational and change over time; identity should be deeper, more stable. This insight changed my understanding of personal development and career choices — it's the first imprint Shenzhen has left on me.

The Shenzhen I See: Technology with warmth

In my six months living in Shenzhen, what amazes me most isn't the technology itself, but how gently it's woven into daily life.

Taobao packages arrive in a day or two, you don't need cash when going out, almost everything can be done within one or two apps. But what touches me more is that in Shenzhen, you see elderly couples scanning QR codes to buy vegetables at the market, young families ordering fruit while strolling in the park. Technology hasn't made the city cold — instead, it makes life more relaxed, leaving more time for what truly matters.

I also have a rather unusual hobby — I like mantises. Back in Russia, I always thought they were fascinating creatures: quiet, focused, motionless while waiting, yet incredibly precise when they act. After coming to Shenzhen, I've tried looking for them in parks. This city is more "wild" than I imagined — even among the high-rises, vibrant nature still hides.

What warms my heart most is a small detail: once I saw someone online ask why Shenzhen Bay Park doesn't turn on lights at night. A local netizen replied that because large numbers of migratory birds fly here every winter, the wetlands need to stay dark to avoid disturbing their rest. In that moment, I thought — this city is truly lovely. Not every "smart city" would prioritize that.

A friend once asked me what three words I'd use to describe Shenzhen in my eyes. After thinking it over, I arrived at my answer: inclusive, diverse, growing.

"Once you arrive, you're a Shenzhener" isn't just empty talk. Even as a foreigner still finding my way, I've never felt like an outsider. It's not just diversity of people, but diversity of experiences — one moment you're in a futuristic tech hub, the next you can turn into a quiet creative park. Industry, culture, lifestyles blend naturally here. Although I haven't been in Shenzhen long, I've already developed my own "Shenzhen private list." I often recommend friends visit OCT-Loft. The atmosphere there is different: old factory buildings transformed into indie shops, design studios, cafés — showing you another side of Shenzhen, one less about speed and technology, more about openness and creativity.

In APEC Year, Being an ‘Unforced Bridge’

This year, Shenzhen will host the APEC meeting. As an international youth living here, I'm full of anticipation. I hope the meeting doesn't just discuss economics but also focuses on youth, innovation, cultural exchange — areas where I've personally witnessed the deepest connections forming between Russia and China. Shenzhen itself is a symbol of innovation; this city's energy can inspire more dialogue about sustainable development and the digital future.

In my view, the role of international youth on platforms like APEC isn't to replace senior leaders, but to bring unique perspectives as participants and connectors. We may not be policymakers yet, but we're already building cross-cultural connections in daily life: in classrooms, clubs, internships. We learn how to communicate not from books but from real experiences — handling disagreements, finding common ground, collaborating with people from around the world.

For me, being a "bridge" doesn't necessarily require an official title. It appears in everyday moments: translation isn't just about language but intent; helping people understand what someone is really trying to say; creating a bit of comfort where misunderstanding might arise. Whether as the only intern at Beijing's Peninsula Hotel who could welcome guests in Russian, or as a teammate helping Chinese and international students communicate smoothly in master's group projects — I've found I'm already doing this.

In the future, I hope to continue this work in more structured ways, perhaps in international business, cultural exchange programs, or education. I want to build platforms where young people from different countries can truly dialogue, not just represent their cultures through one-way output. Because real connection happens when you stop explaining your culture and start sharing it.

As for myself ten years from now — I don't really like making overly specific plans. Change is the only constant in life. I really love the Chinese philosophy of *shùn qí zì rán* —letting things take their natural course. Sometimes you don't need to try controlling everything; just let things happen organically. I hope to have a healthy work-life balance, do work I enjoy, have time for hobbies, and be surrounded by people who challenge me in healthy ways and give me courage to try seemingly impossible things.

From the Far East to Beijing, from Shenzhen Bay to the APEC stage, I'm forging my own path between East and West at my own pace — unhurried yet steady. Just like my favorite Chinese philosophy: letting things take their natural course, yet still having direction.