A Heart in Bloom, Drawn Forward by Love

Written on the Occasion of My Son’s 35th Birthday

—by Chasing Dreams in the Distance

Dear Son,

Today is your birthday. Happy 35th Birthday!

This May has brought so many beautiful moments. On May 3, you successfully completed your “Kaleidoscope” fan meeting. Yesterday, May 10, was Mother’s Day. And today, May 11, is your 35th birthday. These past few days have each carried a special meaning: one was a joyful reunion with your “family” of fans, one was a day for me to reflect with gratitude on being a mother, and today is the day I celebrate becoming your mother, and you becoming my son.

A week ago, we reunited with your “family.”
Yesterday, I gave thanks for becoming a mother.
Today, I celebrate the day you came into this world.

—I believe these are all gentle arrangements made by fate.

Son, the countless threads of fate had long since been woven, through the quiet flow of companionship and years spent side by side, into a promise of enduring togetherness. As the cycle of months turns once more, what time has given us is not only the deep and gentle tenderness that runs like still waters, but also fresh and unique textures etched by the passage of time. These are the stories written through your journey, my journey, and our journey together as we continue moving forward. And in this May, those stories have blossomed into flowers. Cluster upon cluster—some in full bloom, others still waiting to unfold—have flourished within my heart, unfolding into one touching scene after another.

Where Blossoms Flourish Between Mountains and Seas

In the human world, May arrives as warm winds drift across the Southern Seas.

The evening breeze of Kuala Lumpur carried with it a gentle tropical warmth, flowing through the city streets, brushing past the outlines of towering buildings and old shophouses alike, as if meeting, at last, a tenderness that had crossed mountains and oceans.

And I, too, traveled within that breeze. Together with countless others, I crossed seas and great distances to attend a long-awaited meeting with you.

It was May 3rd, at the “Kaleidoscope” fan meeting.

As night lowered its curtain, every seat in the packed venue was filled. Every corner of the space overflowed with eager anticipation. People had come from all directions of the world—different languages, different appearances, different ages, different life stories—yet all had gathered here for the same reason, their eyes drawn toward the very same place:  the spotlight that was about to illuminate the stage. And there we waited—waiting for the opening notes of this gentle reunion to finally begin.

What kind of you would we see reflected within the “Kaleidoscope”?

Before the event began, I looked curiously around me at the faces nearby—each different in appearance, yet carrying a strikingly similar expression.

Young women in their twenties and thirties had arrived with wholehearted passion and sincerity, bright flames dancing in their clear eyes, tireless and full of youthful fervor.

Middle-aged people, weathered and tempered by the years, had for a moment set aside the exhaustion of daily life. Their expressions were softer now, unable to conceal their anticipation for this long-awaited reunion.

Elderly attendees with silver hair carried lines etched deeply by time upon their faces, yet pure joy had awakened something youthful within them once more. Though their steps were slow, their eyes still shone with the brightness of young souls, quietly holding the strength it took to cross mountains and seas.

Different ages. Different places. Different journeys through life. And yet, all had gathered together because of the same affection.

Year after year, we continue to come toward you, our feelings remaining as true as they were in the beginning.

Within this “Kaleidoscope,” I also saw myself—forgetting my age, forgetting the weariness of the journey, staying together with everyone else, sharing in the joy and anticipation as we waited to see you. All for that one moment, when the light from the stage fell upon you, and at the same time illuminated the hearts of all of us.

My son, you said that this performance still moved you deeply. But I have always known that you were born for the stage. You love the stage, and the stage loves you in return. Whether it is your solid vocal ability, your steady and confident stage presence, your unique aura, your effortless command of the audience, or the sincerity and depth within your conversations and interactions—you continue to grow with every performance, becoming more and more remarkable each time. You not only openly share your individuality and your understanding of beauty with everyone, but also thoughtfully prepared a letter for your fans. On stage, you are like a magnet: every movement, every glance draws people in. Through your sincerity, emotion, and artistic expressiveness, you create a world of beauty so immersive that people cannot help but lose themselves within it. Like a prism, you refract countless possibilities hidden within your soul through shifting light and shadow. You allow people to feel beauty and strength, to understand the meaning of souls moving toward one another across distance and time. And because of that, people are moved. They are astonished. They are deeply touched. Hearts resonate in the same frequency, growing toward one another in both directions.

“I am to myself as night is unto day—

on one side, blue robes amid flying snow;
on the other, dark as ink.

Across the mirror we sit facing one another,
spending a lifetime locked in silent gaze.

If the night is me,
then surely the daylight is me as well.

Had there not been choices
born from utmost sorrow and deepest dark,
how could such clear colors ever come to be?

Had I never watched myself
raise the sword against the demons of the heart,
how then could poetry be written?

One who has seen the cage
learns at last to follow the wind.

Ask not who one is—
ask only whether flowers still bloom.

To gaze afar upon the river of stars,
to bow low before the mortal flames below—

all of it… is me.”

This was your song, “All Me,” the theme song of your new drama. Though I had heard it before, hearing you perform it live for the very first time within that hall struck my heart with overwhelming force. It was a tide of emotions woven together—shock, exhilaration, pride, and sorrow—crashing against me like roaring waves upon the shore. This new drama is a work you prepared for over a very long time. It is also the first project in which you have taken on so many roles at once: producer, screenwriter, director, and leading actor. Into it, you poured countless days and sleepless nights of devotion, even enduring injuries along the way, all for the sake of presenting the very best to everyone. And every one of those identities born from an unrelenting pursuit of art—was you. The one who endured both applause and hardship—was you. The one who walked through this world, cutting through thorns and brambles, stubbornly holding fast to what is good and true—was you. The one upon the stage, effortless and commanding, ever-changing in form and spirit—was also you. Everywhere, all is you. My son, what a heavy burden this is to bear, and yet what a profound forging of your soul. You once told me that while recording this song, you became so emotional that your voice caught in your throat. The lyrics speak of drama as though it were life itself—but is that not, in truth, your own reflection?

When several scenes from the new drama appeared upon the screen, the entire audience held its breath in silent focus—then suddenly erupted into thunderous applause and cheers. And I believe all of us felt the very same thing: anticipation. Anticipation for the drama’s official release. Anticipation for journeying alongside its characters through growth and transformation.  And even more so, anticipation to witness how your years of devotion will finally blossom into fruition.  Because everyone understands that every role you portray carries a piece of your own life within it. And perhaps, too, it will become a part of theirs. Stories of courage, of redemption, of flowers blooming from ruins—these have always possessed the power to strike the softest corners of the human heart with unerring precision.

And it is here that the blossoms truly bloom.

When you sat upon the sofa and began reading the letter you had written to your fans, the entire venue gradually fell quiet. You said that your fans were your family, your companions, your crew, your comrades. You wished to become like a beam of light, bringing positivity, joy, and courage into everyone’s lives. You said that life itself is a journey of cultivation, and hoped that everyone could continue forward with optimism, kindness, and warmth.

At that moment, I could feel the companions, crew, family, and comrades beneath the stage resonating with you in the same emotional rhythm—not because of sorrow, but because your words fell like seeds into the softest soil within their hearts. You said, “Life itself is a journey of cultivation.”  That sentence needed no embellishment, because it already carried the plainest and deepest truth. Cultivation is not about becoming a perfect person. It is about choosing to rise again after every fall; choosing kindness after every misunderstanding; choosing to light oneself even when darkness descends. And that is precisely what you have done. You have lived yourself into a light.  My son, I know this is not because you were born radiant, but because you chose to burn—to burn your life to its fullest brilliance, until you became both your own light and the light of others.

This gathering itself became a passing of energy. It was never a one-sided affection, but a mutual journey toward something beautiful. Every concert, every fan meeting, became another breakthrough, another step forward. The team carefully polished every detail—from stage design to styling, from vocal refinement to emotional expression—never once failing the devotion and love given by the fans. My son, you are grateful to everyone who has accompanied you along the way. You once said: “You are my light, and also the strength that allows me to keep moving forward.” You became a light that illuminated others, while these dear companions, crew members, family, and comrades, through years of unwavering devotion, they kept this light from ever fading.  To illuminate one another—this is the most beautiful echo within this journey of cultivation.

And on this night in Kuala Lumpur, though the venue itself was not grand in scale, the experience carried a brilliance no less extraordinary than any immense arena.

There were stunning looks that dazzled the eye. There was solid vocal mastery and effortless command of the stage. There were thoughtful, deeply heartfelt conversations and interactions—warm, graceful, and entirely at ease. My son, with your strength and your gentleness, you turned this night into a flowing poem. You transformed it into light and warmth, pouring it into the hearts of everyone present, allowing the seeds hidden within each soul to bloom into flowers—flowers blossoming in radiant splendor between mountains and seas.

Where Blossoms Bloom Amid the Warmth of Passing Days

My son, thirty-five years ago, you came into this world. Because of you, I became a mother, and from that day on, I gained a new name connected to you forever: Mom.

Before that, I never knew this name could hold such magic. Whenever I heard your voice or saw your face, no matter how difficult, exhausting, or painful life had been, everything would suddenly feel lighter. The hardships of life no longer seemed impossible to overcome. From then on, every journey in my life carried a new meaning because of you. Your small figure tugged at the softest part of my heart, and ever since then, all my joys and sorrows have been tied to yours.

From your first unsteady steps to the confident person you are today; from your childish babbling to becoming calm, dependable, and responsible. The little boy who once needed me to hold his hand while crossing the street has grown into a man who now walks beside me through life’s twists and turns, someone capable of carrying the weight of his own world. I still remember the countless innocent wishes you made as a child. I remember your dream of taking me traveling around the world someday. I remember how attached you were to me when you were little, and I remember the many playful arguments we had as mother and son. Time passes quietly, shaping you into a mature man, yet the kindness and passion in your eyes, the honesty and sincerity in your heart, have never changed.

Over the years, we have spent more time apart than together. Most of our daily conversations happen through our phones—sharing little things about our lives, talking about the books we’ve been reading lately. Yesterday, you came home to spend Mother’s Day with me. Today, we are celebrating your thirty-fifth birthday together. Neither of us has ever cared much for holidays or celebrations, but simply being able to sit together and chat always brings a special kind of happiness.

My son, when you were little, I watched you grow up. After you grew up, I watched you set out into the world. I was never the kind of mother who wanted her child constantly by her side, nor the kind who wished to control your life. I have only ever hoped that you could live happily, stay healthy, and become the person you truly want to be.

No one needs to pass an exam to become a mother, yet somehow I naturally understood that there is a kind of love in this world that never needs to cross mountains and oceans, because it has never left in the first place. It lives in every warm meal, every reminder to take care, every light left on late at night. And now, that love has begun to return to me in its own way.  You remind me to take care of my health. You encourage me to exercise. You surprise me on holidays. And in the way only a grown son can, you have begun protecting me as I slowly grow older.

Even now, sometimes you still seem just like the little boy you once were. When you tease me, you wrap one arm around me while deliberately messing up my curly hair with the other. While I exercise, you lightly tap my knees with a golf club to correct my posture. After making me angry, you grin mischievously until I can no longer stay upset. And whenever I affectionately call Cola “baby,” you immediately call out from the bedroom: “Who are you calling baby?”

As your mother, I know clearly that you have already grown into an independent and mature man. You have become your own light and found your own path in life. Together, we have walked through joyful moments, painful moments, exciting moments, and difficult moments alike. The bond between mother and son is something that never changes. And now I understand even more deeply that you, too, have become a source of strength in the rest of my life, while we each continue living our own wonderful journeys.

This year, Mother’s Day and your birthday arrived side by side, like a gentle gift from fate itself—as though time itself had blossomed into flowers, unfolding quietly within the warmth of everyday life.

First, I thank time. Then, I give thanks for our meeting.  My son, becoming your mother has been the greatest honor of my life.

Where Blossoms Bloom in Hearts That Resonate as One

Life is like a flower, and the meeting of people is much the same—a journey toward a season where hearts recognize and answer one another.

My son, through every performance over the years, I have met so many people who love and support you, and I have felt the pulse of so much kindness and warmth. Only when talking with you did I realize how similar our feelings truly are.

People travel great distances for you, not simply to meet you, but because they see in you a shared culture, a shared spirit, and an emotional resonance. Every lyric you sing upon the stage feels as though it gives voice to words long buried within their hearts. Every moment in which you gritted your teeth and rose again from hardship became a lighthouse guiding others through their own journeys. And the dedication to art that shines from you has become a kind of spiritual strength—a courage rooted in perseverance, passion, and refusing to surrender to fate. That strength has inspired countless people walking alongside you, urging them onward without stopping, moving forward with unwavering determination.

And when the lights go out and the performance comes to an end, another kind of warmth begins to quietly spread. Friends who first met online because of you gather from all corners of the world, dressed in clothing bearing shared symbols, as though attending a long-awaited family reunion. They cross borders, time zones, languages, and skin colors to embrace one another warmly, laughing as they travel side by side. Together they share stories from their journeys, visit landmarks across Kuala Lumpur, taste nasi lemak from roadside stalls, and take commemorative photos beneath the Twin Towers. That kind of companionship—warm, tangible, and real—is a human closeness that phones and screens can never truly replace.

This journey toward you became a singular moment in life, one that gave birth to countless possibilities of warmth and connection, and one that will surely remain an unforgettable memory for many people throughout their lives.

I remember you once saying that meeting others and becoming friends through fandom is itself a kind of blessing. You have become like a bridge, transforming what could have been a lonely admiration into something shared. Here, it became a grand reunion.

Standing among the crowd and listening to these stories, I felt something deep within my heart stir softly.

There was a young woman from Austria who suffers terribly from motion sickness—every time she rides in a vehicle, she becomes violently ill and must rely on medication. And yet she still traveled thousands of miles, overcoming every difficulty just to come to Kuala Lumpur. When people asked why she was so devoted, she replied: “I didn’t come because of his looks. Compared to his talent and character, appearance hardly matters at all.” She came for the talent.
She came for the spirit.

There was also a grandmother in her eighties who came from Hong Kong. Though her hair was completely white, she was full of energy and enthusiasm. She had followed your performances for years, never fearing the hardships of travel or the limits of age. When others asked whether she felt tired, she simply smiled and said: “When I see him shining on stage, I feel young again. He gives me energy!”

There was another friend who lost sight in her left eye due to illness when she was young. Though her vision is limited, she has never stopped making the journey to see you. She did not become your fan during your brightest moments, but chose instead to stand beside you during your darkest times, following you across the world while you fought to rebuild yourself. She said:“Following him has taught me to become the best version of myself.”

There was also a single mother who brought her child to the performance, turning the trip into what she lovingly called a “family visit.” She gave her child the opportunity to take a photo with you, saying she hoped the child would grow up to be as strong and brave as you are. “With an uncle like you as his role model, this little tree won’t grow crooked.” And she told you: “Xiao Zhe, better days are ahead. Big sister will always be here, always lifting you up.”

There was another friend who injured her knee while rushing between events. Everyone urged her to go to the hospital, but she was afraid of missing the chance to see you and insisted on attending the fan meeting anyway. So the others supported her physically, helping her walk into the venue to meet you. She told you that she feared she might not live long enough to see the new drama premiere. And you answered her softly, yet firmly: “You will. You will definitely see it.”

That kind of mutual care, that sincere promise between people—isn’t it a form of family as well?

You also once shared with me something you had witnessed yourself. An elderly couple had come to see you. The wife had difficulty walking and relied on a wheelchair, so her husband carefully pushed her all the way to the venue. When it was time for their photo with you, the husband gently lowered the wheelchair footrests and carefully helped his wife stand, his eyes filled completely with tenderness and devotion. You told me that scene moved you deeply.

And whenever I meet everyone, people always greet me warmly. Most call me “Sister Xia,” “Han Mom,” or “Mama Zhang.” But this time, quite a few people also called me “Teacher R” (as mentioned in the article “Teacher R”), and some even simply called me “Mom”—including several elderly fans in their eighties, which honestly made me laugh. Yet beneath that laughter was a feeling that touched me deeply: a closeness that transcended blood ties.

And is this kind of journeying toward one another not itself an extension of family in the modern world?

It is not bound by blood, and yet it understands one another more deeply than blood sometimes can. It does not rely on daily proximity, and yet souls recognize and illuminate one another from deep within. Like years upon years of watching over and supporting one another, it is never weakened by mountains or oceans, but instead refined through hardship into something purer—something built from trust and warmth.

It has nothing to do with noise, vanity, or worldly gain. It is simply the purest longing within the heart. Life is made of ordinary days and mundane routines, yet it is precisely this kind of sincere love that allows light to grow from ordinary lives, giving ordinary souls a direction toward one another—a place where hearts may lean gently against hearts.

And this bond, resonating on the same emotional wavelength, is called: family.

Where Blossoms Bloom Into Light

My son, through all these years, you have come to understand that life is never a smooth road. Where there is light, there is shadow; where there are open paths, there are also rough and difficult ones. Beyond the flowers and applause, the suffering you endured more than four years ago felt as though the entire world had shut its doors against you. Endless waves of malice and fabricated accusations came crashing down without mercy. During those days, watching your back as you carried it all alone felt like knives twisting in my heart.

But my child, you have been the source of both my sorrow and my pride, my heartbreak and my admiration. You never complained, and you never gave up. You refused to hand yourself over to the cruelty of fate. Instead, you clenched your teeth and transformed grievance and tears into the strength to persevere, to believe, and to remain strong. With an optimistic will, you rooted yourself firmly in the earth and slowly grew new branches of your own.

In the darkness, you became your own light. You read, exercised, wrote, and quietly rebuilt yourself. Carrying your wounds, you transformed and grew once again. You were not destroyed by malice. Instead, you stayed up late reading beneath the lamp in your study, practiced tirelessly in the music room, refined yourself again and again upon the stage, and pushed yourself to the limit on the sports field time after time. You sharpened every edge of yourself into new strengths and skills. Through the “mirror” of your own life, you came to see your truest self—unyielding, unbroken, blooming into a flower unlike any other amid the ruins.

Many of those who follow and admire you have said: “Following him is about finding a kind of spiritual strength during moments of confusion in life—about seeing what the best version of oneself could look like.”

Health, discipline, optimism, perseverance, and the constant desire to improve yourself—this is the answer you have written with your own life in the face of hardship after hardship.

In a world where outside influences constantly encourage young people to “lie flat” and give up striving, you chose a far more difficult path. You did not complain about difficult circumstances, nor lose heart because of temporary setbacks. And you certainly did not choose a life of surrender. You held fast to your own path, silently carrying burdens no one else could see. During the hardest times, you stood up alone, step by step. The road was difficult, yet every step you took was steady and grounded.

No complaining. No discouragement. No surrender. This is what young people should look like. I have always told you: “Just focus on becoming excellent. One day, the world will make way for you.” And now, little by little, those words are becoming reality.

The most moving philosophy in life is never about complaining that fate has been unfair. It is about continuing to climb upward even from the deepest valley. Because true strength is not never falling down—it is being able to stand up after every fall more steadily, more firmly, and higher than before.

The strongest vitality is never born inside a greenhouse. It grows through cracks between thorns, forcing open its own space, blooming fiercely and brilliantly.

Where Blossoms Bloom Beyond the Limits of Words

My child, the you of today feels so much like the me of yesterday—so young, so full of life. And yet today, you are simply yourself: fearless, resilient, and your own source of light.

My child, there are a few things your mother wishes to tell you—

Time will eventually take away youthful beauty. Fine lines will appear at the corners of the eyes, and silver will slowly touch the temples. These are natural laws no one can resist. But a person’s knowledge, depth, and inner beauty are different. They become like aged wine—growing richer, deeper, and more fragrant with time.

I hope you continue reading, learning, accumulating, and reflecting.

Be a person with depth—someone who can see both the suffering of the world and the vastness of the stars and sea.

Be a person with strength—someone who can withstand applause as well as storms.

Be a person with vision—someone who stands high enough to see far, who does not drift with the crowd or lose themselves in the voices of others.

No matter where fate places you, may you always be able to take root and grow.

Because you have already proven this:

Even in the darkest soil, you were still able to bloom into the brightest flower.

True growth is not the passing of years, but the deepening of the soul.

The greatest wealth in life is never fame or status, but eyes that remain bright after enduring storms, and a heart that remains warm after experiencing the hardships of life.

My child, today you are thirty-five years old.

And what your mother most wishes for you has never been fame, success, or worldly glory.

It is simply this—

I hope you become a person of integrity, someone who holds firmly to their principles and never loses direction amid the noise of the world.

I hope you become a kind person, someone with light in the heart, love in the eyes, and warmth in the hands. Kindness is not weakness—it is choosing to believe in light even after witnessing darkness.

I hope you become someone with purpose and direction. When a person knows where they are going, they are less likely to be stopped by the thorns along the roadside. Keep moving forward. Even if your steps are slow, walk steadily and with conviction.

May there always be flowers blooming within your heart, and roads stretching endlessly beneath your feet.

In this life, there are perhaps only two journeys truly worth making—

One is crossing mountains and seas for what you love.

The other is quietly staying beside the ones you love through the passing years.

Just as one “big sister” at the fan meeting once said: “I don’t think we’ve already passed through every hardship. But we have crossed the tallest and most difficult mountain—the one that once shut out the sun.”  The roads we travel together may not always be smooth, but flowers will bloom in their own season.

May has not yet ended, and the blossoms remain within our hearts.

May all of our “family,” and mothers everywhere, be treated gently by time.

And may my son, at thirty-five, live as freely as the wind, with a future bright and boundless.

May you and I, no matter where life carries us, always have a light worth running toward, and a road we are willing to keep walking.

To follow love, without fear or doubt.

My dearest child, happy birthday.

Words can never fully express what is in my heart. I only wish that year after year you may live in peace and health, and that all the days ahead of you may be safe and well.

Mom

                                                       May 11, 2026