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Picture this: You are in a race where others speed ahead in roaring racing cars, while you pedal forward on a bicycle. On the same stretch of asphalt, even with identical training, shared rules, and common goals, your fate is sealed—you will never cross the finish line first. This track mirrors the societal blueprint for success: high grades, elite universities, stable careers, retirement, and the quiet fade into obscurity.

But what if you were born to ride a bicycle? What if your path is not measured by speed or conformity, but by the rhythm of your own wheels turning? Perhaps the real question is not whether you can win the race, but whether you need to race at all.

In November 2024, when the college application season was in full swing, Allan was invited to speak at the Keystone Education Salon whose theme was “How to Endure When Stability Slips Away”. As a student dialogue guest, Allan reflected on the pressures many students feel and shared the metaphor of the cyclist—an image that resonated deeply with his classmates.

A month later, Allan received his admission letter from the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, becoming the first student in Keystone’s history to be admitted there. The news spread quickly across campus. But for Allan, the moment of realization came quietly—when he opened his regular decision documents and saw the materials he had just finished polishing the night before. It hit him: the application journey was over.

So, what now?

For Allan, getting into Wharton was not a finish line but a pivot. The result gave him a new direction and the need to reassess how to spend time and energy. “Applying to Wharton” joined the list of completed experiences on his résumé—important, meaningful, but a moment in the past. He seldom brought it up again. Instead, his attention shifted to something else entirely.

Allan has always cared more about people than prestige, and the journey than the race. And now that one path had ended, he was ready for the next—toward the community around him, and the mountain beyond the mountain.

Economic analysis as training empathy

 “Do you think procedural justice is more important than outcome justice?” 

In one early morning, Allan received this message from his friend Zhou Jinkang (Oscar). A spontaneous conversation unfolded. Over that  winter break, news had broken that the CEO of a major health insurance firm in the United States had been shot in Manhattan. Public reactions were polarized—some framed the act as “righteous revenge,” but Oscar disagreed. He saw it as a procedurally unjust act and argued that justice could not be achieved if the process itself was flawed. Allan agreed.

Their conversation turned to the famous Simpson murder trial—where, despite strong evidence, the suspect went free due to procedural mishandling. For Allan, a just process in many cases “is more important than the result”.

“Just like in life, we should focus on the journey, not obsess over distant goals,” he told Oscar, who was surprised after hearing such a comment. As someone who had worked with Allan in high school business competitions and shared an interest in economics and philosophy, Oscar had assumed Allan’s strong academic performance came from being rigidly goal-driven. But the more they talked, the more he saw a different side—someone who deeply valued learning for its own sake.

“I didn’t expect him to love the process of learning itself rather than chasing outcomes,” Oscar said.

To outsiders, Allan appears composed and focused, with clear goals and a seemingly predestined path. But behind this calm surface is a young man who has navigated uncertainty and made deliberate choices about his future.

Allan’s first encounter with economics came almost by chance in Grade 9. Curious and up for a challenge, he decided to participate in the National Economics Challenge with three schoolmates. With only basic knowledge at the time, they picked up Mankiw’s Principles of Economics and began learning together. That independent exploration sparked his interest—but it also made him reflect. “If I’d had a chance to dive deeply into physics, I might have fallen in love with physics. If someone gave me a great book, maybe I’d be into literature,” he said.

Still, something about economics stuck. The deeper Allan explored, the more he realized it wasn’t a dry set of formulas but a lens for understanding life. “It’s not something I need to sit down to think about, or something I’d run into a pole thinking about while walking. It’s more like a way of thinking that shifts how I see the world.”

That insight led to action. Allan noticed that many students didn’t really know what economics was before choosing courses in the Diploma Programme (DP). To bridge that knowledge gap, he co-founded the Keystone Economics Club (KEV) with schoolmates to help younger students discover what economics truly means.

Unlike many Keystone clubs, KEV wasn’t part of the KAP (Keystone Activities Program) and had no fixed meetings or mandatory tasks. Everything—from learning sessions to projects—was driven by genuine interest and a shared desire to give back. More than just a study group, KEV aimed to challenge perceptions.

“People often think economics is about money, or that business is just about profit,” KEV’s co-founder Wang Dan said. “But economics is really about choices, and business is about solving problems. We want to spread that understanding.”

To bring this vision to life, they launched the school’s first student-led social science magazine—Key to Social Science Journal—which publishes student-written articles exploring topics beyond textbooks. They also created the Amazing Business Challenge (ABC), a competition that invites primary school students to identify real-life problems and pitch solutions in the form of business plans.

Of all the concepts he encountered, Allan was especially drawn to economics’ ability to “see the essence through phenomena.”

“What fascinates me is the tension between appearance and reality. Economic thinking teaches us to uncover deeper truths—and that, to me, is a kind of empathy training,” he said. “It’s about learning to view the world from multiple perspectives.”

Even as his interest in economics deepened, Allan remained curious about other fields—physics, literature, philosophy, biology, and art—and continued exploring leadership and service.

In the summer of 2022, he enrolled in “Essentials of Leadership,” a Wharton Global Youth Program course. That class marked his first connection to the University of Pennsylvania and Wharton. He was struck by how approachable the professors were and how open the learning environment felt. Most of all, he was moved by a simple but profound assignment: to write and share a personal mission statement.

So, what did he write?

“I hope to have more time with my family and become someone who helps others.”

That mission was a turning point. For the first time, Allan began piecing together the deeper reasons behind his passions—from economics to service learning. He saw a clear thread: a desire to address social inequality. That, he realized, was a cause worth committing to.

The “nerd” who transformed into a “student leader”

After returning from a trip to Gansu in the summer of Grade 8, Allan sought ways to combine service with learning by joining student organizations. But for an introvert without experience in school elections, stepping into leadership wasn’t easy.

His first setback came early: a loss in the student council election. But rather than dwell on the outcome, Allan quickly reflected on why things hadn’t gone his way. He realized he lacked confidence in public speaking. More importantly, he discovered that it wasn’t the title he cared about—it was the chance to be involved in meaningful activities.

In the second semester of Grade 9, he joined the Keystone Service  Council From there, his calendar filled up fast: Color Run, Giving Tree, Charity Ball, Cultural Mosaic, and so on. He wasn’t just participating—he was learning to lead. In a short time, he went from a quiet newcomer to the initiator and organizer of multiple events that sparked a deeper shift in him. He began asking himself bigger questions: Was simply joining existing activities enough? Could he do more?

“There are two ways to serve at Keystone,” he explained. “One is to join existing clubs or activities. The other is to notice what’s missing—and create something new. I prefer the second path.”

At Keystone, it’s relatively easy for students to start their projects. The harder question is: what kind of project is actually meaningful? Allan often reminded himself not to plan events just for show. “I want to initiate things that truly help the community and resonate with students.”

Rather than look outward for ideas, he reflected on his experience transferring to Keystone. He remembered feeling lost—unsure of how to navigate the school’s systems, use digital platforms, or connect with classmates. Surrounded by opportunity, he still felt “helpless”.

When he brought this up with friends, he realized he wasn’t alone. Many had felt the same confusion in their early days. That shared experience inspired a new initiative: the Keystone New Student Guidance Program.

Each summer, while most students relax, program members begin their busiest season. They coordinate with the Admission Office to learn about incoming students, email parents introducing the program, and start recruiting upper-grade student mentors or buddies.

Matching mentors to mentees isn’t random. Both sides fill out detailed questionnaires about their interests and personalities, so the team can pair them thoughtfully, one-on-one. By the start of the school year, every participating first-year student has a student buddy—a familiar face to guide them through their first days at Keystone.

“We want the student buddy to be the first ‘smile’ new students see, the first ‘welcome’ they hear, and maybe even the first friend they make,” Allan said.

The program doesn’t stop with matching. Partnering with the boarding committee, the team organizes welcome events like a masquerade party and themed sharing sessions, helping new students feel the warmth of the Keystone community in fun and personal ways.

Now in its third year, the New Student Guidance Program has supported over 210 new students. For Allan and his peers, every answered question and solved problem makes the effort worthwhile.

To Alfonso Rivera, the Service Council advisor, Allan is not just an active listener, but a bridge-builder. “He’s naturally quiet, but his passion for service pushes him to take initiative and rally his peers around a common cause,” Rivera said.

Still, this dedication didn’t guarantee recognition in the traditional sense. After two years of hard work in the Service Council, Allan once again ran for the top role—this time, for committee chair—and again, he didn’t win. But it didn’t shake his commitment. He continued to contribute ideas, lead projects, and support his teammates with the same enthusiasm as before.

In appreciation, his fellow committee members gave him a unique epithet: “Chair of Honor.” This gesture wasn’t just a title but their way of thanking Allan, who, for them, was more than a teammate—he was a reliable partner, a thoughtful collaborator, and a quietly effective leader.

When asked how he would feel if he never got the chance to lead a project or take the spotlight, Allan didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll focus on doing what I can. Even in a supporting role, I want to bring my strengths and improve the process, even just a little.”

True leadership is about having a positive influence

Looking back on his years in the Service Council, Allan doesn’t dwell on titles or accolades. What he remembers are the moments of action—planning events, leading projects, solving problems, and learning from every challenge. With each experience, he made careful notes, recorded lessons, and passed them on to younger students.

“Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime,” Allan said, referencing the well-known proverb. “When I started in Grade 9, I ran into all kinds of problems. Sometimes, I figured them out on my own. Sometimes, I wished someone could just point me in the right direction. Now that I’m a senior student, I want to be that person for others. If we can make it easier for the next group, community activities can become even better.”

For Allan, influence isn’t about charisma or speeches—it’s about consistent action. Quiet, steady, and often unnoticed, leadership by example is what he’s always seen in his parents. “They never told me how to be a good person. They just showed me how to be, day after day,” he said.

Growing through years of service, Allan remains modest and soft-spoken. But he has become more observant, practical, and proactive. More importantly, he’s developed his philosophy of leadership. “Rather than call it leadership, I prefer the word influence. I want to be an altruistic person. That doesn’t depend on position or status—I can do that anywhere.”

Still, the more involved he became in public service, the more he saw the world’s complexities. Behind every problem solved were more that remained. School communities like Keystone offer incredible space and support—but there are limits to what any one school or student group can do. Not every project continues. Not every need gets met.

And so he began asking more complicated questions: What happens to the students we don’t reach? What happens when a project ends before the work is done?

This led to a new idea—connecting student changemakers beyond the boundaries of a single campus. “Every school has students doing service projects,” Allan explained. “A lot of times, we’re doing the same things—like programs for stray dogs—but no one talks to each other. So, each group stays small and isolated. What if we could work together?”

In his junior year, Allan and his classmates decided to test the waters by reimagining Keystone’s annual Service Fair. In past years, the event had showcased only internal projects. This time, they invited students from other schools to participate. Over six weeks, they reached out through emails, social media, and personal connections, explaining the purpose and goals of the event. Despite the difficulty, three schools accepted the invitation.

To Allan, that was a promising start. “It wasn’t about numbers. Just the fact that we brought people together from different communities—that was a win,” he said. “It showed us where the communication gaps are, and also what’s possible.”

Building on that momentum, Allan and several student leaders from Keystone and Beijing Huijia School launched a new cross-school initiative: NEST. They built a website, created email channels, and opened social media accounts both domestically and internationally. They aimed to connect service-minded students, facilitate cross-campus collaboration, and link with NGOs to broaden impact and learning.

Launching NEST was a massive challenge—especially for teenagers. How do you introduce a new organization? How do you build trust between unfamiliar schools? What kinds of activities actually work? These weren’t theoretical questions; they were real obstacles the team faced daily. Still, Allan remained steady. His co-founder Wang Dan, at first, struggled to understand his calm.

“I used to get really anxious,” she said. “I’d worry the outcome wouldn’t match our effort, and it affected my mood a lot. I’d ask him, ‘Aren’t you frustrated?’ But he always reassured me, ‘We’re building something from zero to one. It takes time. Don’t rush.’ Working with him made me feel safe.”

For Allan, NEST was a platform that allowed them to rethink what service learning could be. He hoped that by encouraging students to collaborate rather than compete, they could remove unnecessary internal friction. Even among student-led service projects, Allan noticed subtle comparisons: Who raised more money? Whose event was bigger?

“To me, this kind of competition doesn’t help anyone,” he said. “It doesn’t help the organizations we’re trying to support, and it distracts from the real purpose of doing service. But once you start collaborating, you realize that most people doing this work want to cooperate.”

Within the first year, NEST brought together student representatives from 21 schools in three countries, partnered with nine NGOs, and organized five cross-school service events alongside more than 20 shared initiatives.

“Our role is to be a bridge—to promote cooperation and amplify our collective impact,” Allan said. “I hope NEST continues to grow at Keystone, and eventually, I’d love to bring what we’ve built back to support this community and its curriculum.”

To Allan, a person’s connection to their community should not end at graduation. Leadership is not about holding office—it’s about having a long-lasting, positive influence. And for him, giving back to the community that raised him is an ongoing commitment, not a one-time gesture.

From “community” to “society” to “world,” Allan and his peers stepped forward just before graduation—not with certainty, but with courage. Embodying Keystone’s spirit and a vision of global citizenship, they took their first steps onto a larger stage, hoping to make their voices count in a wider conversation.

Step by step, Allan has shaped and nurtured the community around him. Through every project, he’s built his understanding of leadership: leadership is service, and service is leadership. He doesn’t shy away from ambition—because he refuses to ignore injustice. His hope is simple but profound: to find a better, more integrated way to help.

“I want to make the world a better place,” he said.

“Through public service or a charity organization?” we asked.

“And economics—or a new kind of business model,” Allan replied, with quiet certainty.

Finding my university

In Grade 10, Allan made an unconventional choice: he interned with Krishi Star, a social enterprise in India. While many students preparing for university applications opt for internships at big-name companies to build their résumés, Allan followed his instincts. For him, it was one of the best decisions he’s made.

At Krishi Star, Allan met someone he now considers a life role model—the founder, who disrupted traditional business models by prioritizing social impact over profit. The organization helps small-scale farmers increase productivity and income using innovations like data analytics and internet-of-things (IoT) technologies.

“His experience showed me a new kind of business—one that aims to do good, not just make money. I was fascinated and inspired,” Allan said.

But watching others isn’t enough—Allan knew building something meaningful takes vision and long-term learning. Between his twin loves—physics and economics—he began asking deeper questions. If he wanted to address real-world problems and drive social change, which field would give him more tools?

It was a hard call. He admitted, “I love physics, but I’m not especially talented in it. If I can’t make a real contribution in the long run, I’ll feel regret.” So, with clarity and calm, he chose economics—a path that felt both grounded and full of possibility. Still, he hopes to study physics in college and speaks admiringly of peers pursuing it. “I admire their purity, ideals, and courage.”

This same clarity carried into his college search. Last summer, Allan joined Wharton’s Leadership in the Business World (LBW), a three-week program often described as an “MBA for high school students.” Mornings were spent in classes with global peers; afternoons focused on real-world business cases. Yet, the experience left him uncertain. “Is my vision too idealistic? Will a business school be too narrow? Can I still explore other fields?” he asked himself.

True to form, he didn’t make any rash decisions. Instead, he dug deeper—researching schools, programs, and philosophies. Then, a recruitment letter from Wharton caught his eye. It described students they hoped to attract: those eager to use business for global good, with strong leadership and math skills.

Allan saw himself in that description. And with further research, he realized Wharton wasn’t just a traditional business school—it offered flexible, interdisciplinary study. “You’re required to take a quarter of your classes in other schools. It’s about ideas, not just management. That excited me,” he said. “At that moment, I was sure: I want to go to Wharton.”

Even so, he dreaded the application essays. “Writing essays meant I had to reflect, express, even promote myself. I don’t like talking about my accomplishments—I prefer learning new things.”

But conversations with his college counselor, Yanni Liu, changed his view. “If not for the essays, I wouldn’t have paused to think through my journey. It helped me understand how I became who I am—and what I want next.”

Now, Allan sees college application as 5% submission and 95% self-discovery. “Through it, I figured out my values, goals, and what kind of person I am.”

His teacher, Jeffery Heitmann, once praised his insight: “Allan is sincere and reflective. He sees the essence through the noise.”

For Allan, that essence lies in authenticity. “Anyone can prep for college. But if you create a fake persona, you’ll have to live with it for four years. That’s exhausting.”

Quoting Tufts’ admissions blog, he added: “The point of college search is to find a school that fits you, not one you force yourself to fit.”

Self-exploration is complicated—full of detours and doubt. But Allan embraces that complexity. “Knowing your uniqueness helps you live your life—not someone else’s.”

He likens it to racing: “Life isn’t only asphalt roads. Maybe your path leads through valleys or alleyways. Sometimes, the detour is the fastest way to the finish line—because the race car is too big to fit.”

And maybe, just maybe, knowing yourself is the victory.

_________

During the interview with the Keystone Office of Marketing and Communications, Allan often used “if” to imagine better possibilities—for individuals, for society, and for a more inclusive and fair world. He constantly reflects, questions, and reexamines, yet his stories rarely center on himself. It takes time and careful listening to uncover the depth behind his calm and composed demeanor. At times, however, his clarity cuts through—direct and unwavering. He doesn’t shy away from “big questions” and speaks with quiet conviction when he says, “I want to change the world.”

Allan’s strength lies in his willingness to share, his eagerness to learn, and his openness to trial and error. He sees growth not as a straight path, but as a layered process—much like the traditional Chinese paintings he has practiced for over a decade. In those works, the beauty lies not only in the detailed strokes of mountains and rivers, but also in the restraint, the blank space, and what is left unsaid. For him, that balance of intention and openness defines how he approaches both art and life.

Now, with the university admission result in hand, he views it not as an end but as a marker of one stage along a longer journey. Allan still faces the future with the same calm enthusiasm and thoughtful courage. Beyond the visible mountains and rivers, he believes, there is more waiting to unfold.