On “Quality of Life”

Everyone says health matters—but truly understanding it holistically, and beginning to act on that understanding, is something I’ve only done seriously in the past few years. A turning point came when I joined a “preventive medicine” initiative. That’s when I started intentionally reshaping my body—and began reaping outsized returns: sharper focus, deeper sleep, and far greater emotional resilience. These, in turn, dramatically lifted both my work output and learning speed.

The benefits aren’t just immediate. They compound over decades—directly shaping quality of life well into old age.

This morning, I had breakfast with my great-uncle. He’s 77—but his energy, physical stamina, mental clarity, and curiosity rival those of someone in their fifties or sixties. Remarkable. When I asked how he did it, he credited lifelong healthy habits—especially regular movement.

So I strongly urge you: place building real health literacy—and acting on it—at the very top of your priority list.

True health knowledge is rich and evidence-based. At its core lie five interdependent pillars: movement, nutrition, sleep, emotional regulation, and appropriate medication use.

Each pillar has deep scientific grounding. I’ve read widely, consulted experts, and gradually pieced together a coherent, actionable framework—only then gaining both the motivation and capability to practice health scientifically, not just sporadically.

Once you genuinely grasp health’s centrality—and treat it as your daily non-negotiable—you’ll see your quality of life rise quickly and tangibly. Your relationships—with work, friends, and family—will shift, too. You’ll relate to them with more presence, patience, and depth.

Principles for Project Selection

Recently, I spoke with several friends in Chengdu. One has built an overseas SaaS tool business over ten years—steadily, profitably. I’d summarize his model as “the international version of 360.”

When distilling principles for choosing projects or products, we landed on what I call the “Five Highs”—a framework for sustainable, long-term viability:

① High Pain Point: Users feel the problem acutely—and urgently want resolution. The sharper the pain, the lower the barrier to conversion.
② High Barrier to Entry: Higher barriers mean fewer competitors. Start simple, then deliberately raise technical, distribution, or regulatory hurdles. A true barrier is one where anyone else could not easily replicate your work.
③ High Gross Margin: Signals product scarcity and structural advantage. Only high-margin businesses generate enough capital to invest in talent, R&D, and infrastructure.
④ High Human Efficiency (People-to-Revenue Ratio): Especially critical in the AI era. A friend asked, “What counts as ‘high’?” I admire companies like MidJourney: 11 people, $100M annual revenue. That’s the benchmark I aim for.
⑤ High Ceiling: Once the model works, is there massive, scalable demand? Think global tools—addressing billions, not millions.

These Five Highs map directly to four fundamentals: demand pull, competitive moat, profitability, and growth runway. As they say: Choice precedes execution. In entrepreneurship, what you choose to build matters far more than how you build it.

These principles won’t fit every founder—but they’re a useful diagnostic. Compare your current project: Which “High” is weakest? And how might you strengthen it?

Once the model is chosen, execution tactics matter less than one thing: copying—strategically.
Yes—copy. Not lazily, but intelligently. Outperform rivals across key dimensions: user acquisition, product experience, monetization, support. Often, latecomers win—not by inventing first, but by observing, refining, and executing better.

The Returns of Movement

Of the five health pillars—movement, nutrition, sleep, emotional regulation, and medication—movement comes first. Its ROI is simply unmatched.

Back in Sichuan, I talked deeply with several entrepreneur friends. All are under immense pressure; all have gained significant weight, especially around the midsection. Yet when discussing health, they all said, “I can still push through.” Why? Because they’d built a strong physical foundation in university—through consistent movement. Without that base, today’s stress would be far harder to bear.

This morning, over rice noodles at a roadside stall, my 77-year-old great-uncle looked decades younger—not just in appearance, but in stamina, posture, and spark.
He attributed it entirely to movement: starting young, continuing through military service, and never stopping. The dividends, he said, last a lifetime.

Guang’an Marathon

Today, I ran the half-marathon (21 km) at my hometown’s inaugural marathon—finishing in 2:06, a 7-minute improvement over my second half-marathon.

To elite runners, this is modest. But for me? It’s satisfying—because progress isn’t about comparison. It’s about consistency: one small step forward, each time.

Beyond the clock, the feel was better too: no post-run leg soreness, no stiffness even after stretching.

Two main reasons:
First, consistent running + strength training over recent months—building real endurance.
Second, ideal weather: light rain for much of the race—cooling without soaking.

That said, my heart rate ran higher than usual. Good thing I monitored it closely—and kept it safely within range. Likely culprit? Eight straight days of drinking—including two sessions the day before the race: lunch with my uncle, dinner with my great-uncle.

Next time, I’ll cut alcohol earlier.

Guang’an’s first marathon surprised me. Small-city events often outshine big ones in atmosphere and local warmth. Residents lined the streets, cheering freely—not as spectators, but as participants in shared pride.

Later, on the flight home, I listened again to Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. After months of steady running, his reflections resonated more deeply than ever.

Since age 34, Murakami has run a marathon every year—now at 75, he still runs daily. For him, it’s not just fitness. It’s the rare gift of blank space: uninterrupted time to think, reset, and receive ideas. That quiet freedom is addictive.

Why running? He answers plainly: it asks for almost nothing—just shoes and open space—and invites a direct, unmediated dialogue with yourself. That intimacy, he writes, is irreplaceable.

The Partner Problem

In a hotel room, a friend vented for nearly an hour about his co-founder.

His situation: they shared similar skill sets. After he built the business, he handed operational control to the partner—and even transferred additional equity to secure loyalty. Instead of gratitude, he got betrayal: under-the-table deals, misaligned priorities, and constant friction.

But worse than the personal sting was the business outcome: performance declined sharply. Debt mounted.

This is serious. Granting “partner” status doesn’t automatically grant competence—or alignment. If the person lacks capability, ownership amplifies dysfunction—not accountability. Differing perspectives also inflate self-perception: partners routinely overestimate their contribution, breeding resentment and conflict.

He now plans to sell the company and start fresh—no partners, ever again. His view? For ventures under ¥100M in China, formal partnerships are rarely necessary—and often harmful—especially when founders lack strong networks or resources to attract truly exceptional co-founders.

I increasingly believe: in the 0–1 phase, avoid partners unless the business model is crystal clear, repeatable, and de-risked. Otherwise, you risk “founder-led-by-person,” not “founder-led-by-problem.”

So yes—I lean toward solo founding early on.

But there’s a trade-off: no one to challenge your blind spots or check irrational impulses.

A few countermeasures help:

  • Reduce the number of decisions—or slow them down—to improve quality.
  • Ruthlessly maintain focus—on one thing, at one time.
  • Read widely, gather diverse signals, and talk regularly with people who’ve done it well. Keep your mental model calibrated to reality.
  • Codify stage-appropriate guardrails—simple, principle-based constraints (e.g., “No hiring before $X MRR,” “No feature launch without user validation”). These reduce costly missteps—not by eliminating risk, but by containing it.