Over the past few years, I’ve deliberately stepped outside my comfort zone again and again. I spent more than a decade in software engineering, then moved into film, acting, music, painting. On the surface, they seem unrelated. After going full circle, I realized they are the same thing at their core: They are all acts of translating thought into expression. Code is expression. Images are expression. Movement, language, musical notes, paint. Different tools, same work: taking something that exists in the mind and rendering it into the world. Engineering and Art are essentially the same craft: both begin with a blank page and try to create something that feels alive. In the end, what we create always mirrors who we are. People sometimes ask me, “Do you actually love writing code?” The question feels misplaced. It’s like asking someone whether they love using a hammer or a chainsaw. Tools can be fascinating, and some people genuinely enjoy mastering them for their own sake. But what truly matters isn’t the tool. It’s the idea the tool makes possible. The harsh reality is that AI has pushed this act of translation to its extreme. Whether it’s code, film, music, or design, AI can now convert ideas into expression with efficiency and quality that often rival, sometimes surpass, human capability. That’s why software engineers, filmmakers, musicians, and designers are among the first to feel the impact of this wave. When the tools of expression can be automated, what remains scarce is thought itself. AI does not continually ask how to make Earth a better home. It does not persistently wrestle with how to build trust or sustain peace between people. It does not carry an inner commitment to freedom, dignity, or the flourishing of every living being. Those questions, that sustained concern, that sense of direction, those belong to us. If there is something worth protecting, it isn’t a particular skill or tool. It’s the capacity to think, to question, to care. Thought itself is the true value of human civilization.

这些年，我一次次走出舒适区，去做看起来彼此无关的事。写了十多年代码，又尝试了影视、表演、音乐、绘画。兜兜转转之后，我才看清，它们本质上是同一件事： 把思想翻译成表达。 代码是表达，影像是表达，动作、语言、音符、油彩，都是表达。职业的差异，只是工具的差异，但做的事情始终相同：把脑海里的东西，转译到现实世界。 工程和艺术其实是同一门手艺：它们都是从一页空白开始，试着创造出富有生命力的东西。最终，我们的作品都会映照出我们自己。 有人问我：“那你到底爱不爱写代码？” 这个问题本身就站不住脚。它像是在问一个人爱不爱用锤子，爱不爱用电锯。工具可以被研究、被迷恋，也确实有人热衷于工具本身。但真正迷人的，从来不是工具，而是借助工具得以显现的思想。 残酷的是，这几年 AI 的爆发，正是把“翻译”这件事推到了极致。无论是代码、影像、音乐还是设计，AI 都已经能够以接近甚至超越人类的效率和质量，把思想转化为表达。这也是为什么软件工程师、影视创作者、音乐人、设计师，成为这波浪潮中最先受到冲击的人。 当表达工具可以被自动化，真正稀缺的，只剩思想本身。 AI 不会持续追问：怎样让地球成为更好的家园。 它不会执着思考：怎样让人彼此信任、和平共处。 它更不会自发关心：如何让每个人拥有自由与尊严，如何让每一个物种活得幸福。 这些问题，这种持续的关切，这种方向性的选择，才是人的财富。 如果有一件东西值得长期守护，那不是某种技能，不是某种工具，而是不断思考、不断追问的能力。 思想本身，才是人类文明的价值。