Music
For me, the sound of music is like air and water in my life.
When I was young, music was a way to prove that my hearing impairment could not limit my skill.
As I grew older, I learned music as a bridge to carry emotions and stories, articulating what words cannot. Now, I don't just play; I compose.
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Performing
For me, music began as a way to prove what was possible despite a severe hearing impairment. I spent a decade mastering technique, earning distinctions, and making performance a norm.
At that time, perfect in note precision and performing skills mean everything.
Skills
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I have certificates for piano level ten given by the Shanghai Conservatory of Music, and Music Theory Level A (both are the highest grades). The former is distinction, and the latter is merit. These records mean that I would be eligible to enroll in any conservatory of music in China.
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Thus, I am purely confident that my performing technique is among the best nationwide.
Performance
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Since I was seven, I have performed on stage in the church choir, performing hymns during religious events every Sunday.
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I also played the piano at school for small events, such as the class chorus. After all, there is only one place for a pianist in the school band, so I don't really get a chance to perform at major events.
Composing
After the sting of losing a class monitor campaign, I sat down to practice Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 32. That night, I didn’t just play the notes; I poured my frustration into them. The music became a vessel to connect with the composer's own story, and my own.
That's when I realized technique is only the doorway to meaning. This discovery pushed me beyond performance and into composition. My pieces became essays, a medium that can translate feelings, items, and the lives of poets like Li Bai and Du Fu into sound.
Now, I am composing my own symphony. Music is no longer just a proof of capability; it is the language I use to document the world and my place within it.
