HAICHEN

Five cities, three languages, two school systems before I turned 18 — Shenzhen, London, Paris, Frankfurt, Munich.

Mandarin at home, English across continents, German learned by immersion. I learned to read environments faster than I learned grammar. That's still how I work.

I grew up impulsive — quick to opinion, slow to proof. Then I moved to a country where every sentence has to carry its own evidence. It rewires you. Mine got rewired.

Now: I notice patterns first, name them last. Quality travels further than volume. The best ideas in a room are the ones nobody's made simple yet — and made true.

I keep picking the harder track. High school, university, every choice between an easier path and a steeper one — I go steeper. Not for the view. For the legs you build climbing it.

Here I'm surrounded by people years ahead of me on the curve. I'm not intimidated — I'm calibrating. The point of climbing isn't to be the tallest. It's to keep finding harder mountains.

I chose Wirtschaftsinformatik because the bridge between business analysis and code is where the real problems live. Pure tech misses the why. Pure business misses the how.

I'd rather build the bridge than guard one shore.

My mother is an engineering designer. She designs hardware — conferencing systems and the equipment deployed in meeting rooms around the world.

I grew up watching her work. Drawing on the screen, running the meeting, making the call. Every product she shipped did two things: contributed to the business, and got used by real people in real rooms.

She does this in mechanical engineering. I want to do it in computer science. Different stack, same kind of work — sustainable products that create value for the business and the people who use it.

Things I'm exploring beyond the day-to-day: product strategy, human-computer interaction, applied AI in everyday tools. Different pace, different scale — but every one of them is on its way to becoming work, not staying as wishlist.

The best technology is the kind you forget you're using — because it works the way you already think. The worst makes you translate yourself before it understands you.

The work, for me, is closing that gap.