Hi, I'm Ivy.
I grew up in China and spent much of my early life in a world where learning and achievement followed carefully structured paths.
In high school, I was part of the Chinese National Olympiad Training Team in mathematics. Later, I entered university to study chemistry, before eventually realizing that it was not the path I truly wanted to follow.
So I started over, and turned toward music instead.
During university, I spent time studying abroad in France and the United States. After graduation, I worked in Singapore for a while before eventually returning to China.
Over the years, alongside my main work, life moved through many different chapters: writing, design, creative work, tea spaces, teaching, and constant attempts to begin something new.
From the outside, life often appeared busy and energetic.
But somewhere along the way, something quieter began to feel missing.
世界
变得越来越快
Everything seemed to be optimized: learning, working, communicating, even resting.
And in the age of AI, language itself has been changing too. Translation is becoming faster, communication more efficient, and words easier to exchange across borders.
But I sometimes wonder whether understanding is becoming any deeper.
At some point, it became difficult not only to slow down,
but even to notice the world clearly.
I began longing for smaller moments of attention.
Afternoon sunlight on the floor.
Steam rising from tea.
The sound of people talking during dinner.
Rain against the window at night.
The feeling of a city still awake.
These are moments that may not seem important, but quietly remind us that we are alive.
Teaching Chinese became part of this journey rather unexpectedly.
Through everyday work and encounters with people from different countries, and later through small videos shared online, I began meeting people who were curious not only about the language itself, but also about the life and culture surrounding it.
Not everyone is searching for a "slow life." Most people are still building, working, creating, and moving forward.
I am too.
But somewhere within all that movement,
I wanted to create a small space where language
could be approached more gently.
With attention. With feeling. With room to breathe.
于是 IvyChinese 出现了
It is not simply a place to study vocabulary or grammar.
It is a quieter doorway into China — through language, everyday life, culture, and the stories that connect them.
Chinese is not only something to understand.
It is also something to feel.
I do not believe language should only be approached through speed, productivity, or mastery.
Sometimes, it can also be approached through stillness.
Through tea.
Through sound.
Through silence.
Through the warmth of people gathering together.
IvyChinese is simply a small space built with that belief in mind.
And if you have also been searching for a more thoughtful way of experiencing language and the world around it —
you are welcome here.
