When we discussed the concept of crucibles at HBS, my best guess then—based on my dating record and polycystic ovaries—was that I might struggle with finding a life partner and with fertility. As I re-emerge from my first real crucible five years later, I write from my apartment in Lisbon, Portugal, engaged and very pregnant. Crucibles were not meant to be predicted. 

In spring 2022, just four months after my promotion to VP at a Boston-based global company, I was bullied by two coworkers. I reached a point where no number of digits on my paycheck or intense, hot-yoga classes could calm my mind. Soon, even my once-existential fear of losing my US visa status couldn’t stop me from doing the unthinkable. 

At age 31, I not only left that job but also decided to retire from a corporate career altogether. Once a high achiever from ultra-competitive Shanghai, I excelled academically and attended Dartmouth College on scholarship before collecting more successes in my career. But I’d been contemplating my path and questioning why fulfillment felt so fleeting; the unraveling of my job was a brutal, but necessary, catalyst. My then-partner had a different vision and risk tolerance, and my tumultuous transition broke our relationship. I was still a few years from receiving a green card and had to leave the United States. I reduced 13 years of my adult life to three suitcases and relocated to Lisbon.

Four days after my arrival, I met Tobias, a Swiss artist-filmmaker who had never spoken the words “efficiency” or “agenda” in his life. Paradoxically, he was an extremely hard worker and prolific creator. For the first time in my life, I had time, and Tobias taught me how to use it differently. 

 Soon we were going to the beach and tidal pools, surfing, swimming, and occasionally catching octopi. I learned to not feel anxious and guilty about resting and having no active income. When I discovered I was pregnant—two years before our loose plan and without the anticipated medical intervention—I had to laugh about how my personal life had turned in such a startling yet logical way. 

 Over the last two years I’ve been writing about my life transition on a Chinese social media site, drawing a large following with my unfiltered story­telling and inspiring others to seek intrinsic motivation. Leaning into a new world of writing and video producing, I no longer manage my anxiety by stacking up wealth or titles, but instead celebrate an active life in nature, my creative and intellectual pursuits, and relationships. In addition to sharing personal stories, I use my platform to facilitate discussions on the many aspects of our world that are worth examining, all while dancing on the delicate line of Chinese censorship. Recently, I wrote about the right to physician-assisted death and the alienation of Chinese modern feminism.

This new “job” has invigorated me and returned me to my roots. As a child, I always sought my own answers and was irreverent in the face of authority. At HBS, I raised pointed questions in class on elitism and unchecked capitalism. At my pandemic-delayed graduation, I refused to buy the required cap and gown to protest what I perceived to be a wasteful and authoritarian “Harvard thing.” But my bitterness lifted when a (properly dressed) faculty member embraced me onstage and whispered that he was proud of me. Every time I remember him, I also remember the inscription on Harvard’s Dexter gate: Depart, to serve better thy country and thy kind. Through a nonlinear and nontraditional journey, I believe I am pursuing that idea of service by my own definition.

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This year, Qian Zhang will publish a collection of essays in China, Out of Harvard. She and her partner Tobias Madison are working on a screenplay.

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