Some stories don’t begin with a plan. They unfold in the quiet momentum of one decision after another, slowly revealing themselves as something far bigger than you imagined. My story with China, and the love I found there, started that way.

In 2013, I joined a consulting firm after spending nearly sixteen years as both an FTE and a consultant at Microsoft. It was a fresh chapter after several difficult years professionally and at home, and while I didn’t know it at the time, this company, Chinese-owned and with conference rooms named after Chinese cities, would soon feel like home as I took ownership of my projects. There’s a story behind how I got that job (one I’ll share another day), but suffice it to say, it felt like divine alignment. I quickly rose through the ranks and eventually became VP of our Seattle office, leading teams and projects I genuinely cared about. That decision put me on a path I never expected.

It was winter, bitterly cold, but that meant no crowds. I walked the frozen courtyards of the Forbidden City, climbed the steep steps of the Great Wall (not a good idea after walking 8 hours the day before), and wandered through the Summer Palace, still marked by the scars of the conflicts of the 19th Century in China. I remember texting my family from the Wall, getting Seahawks playoff updates while standing on one of the world’s great wonders, that was amazing in 2015!

I also learned some early lessons. Chief among them: (pre-Didi app) if it’s not an official taxi, don’t get in. it is embarrassing to admit, but I got scammed my first day in China. That’s international travel for you, sometimes it teaches quickly.

In 2018, I returned, this time to Beijing and Guangzhou for annual planning meetings. I brought one of my dev managers with me, and now I was the seasoned traveler, guiding him through the whirlwind. We hired a tour guide to explore the Forbidden City, though I’m still unsure how many of his stories were true. In Guangzhou, my boss tricked me into eating sliced testicles. That’s not a typo. It wasn’t terrible, but let’s just say it’s not going on my regular menu.

Then came August 2019.

It was short notice; a half-year strategy meeting was happening in China. My boss, kind as he was, assumed I wouldn’t want to go since I didn’t speak Chinese. But I knew I needed to be there. Seattle was already a distant outpost in our company’s structure, and if I wanted to be taken seriously, I had to show up. So, I booked a flight to Shanghai, then connected to Dalian, a port city in the northeast.

Dalian, famous for its seafood, was once called Port Arthur and had been the focal point of a major military naval conflict during the Russo-Japanese War in the early 20th century. That’s all I knew about Dalian as I stood at the baggage claim, jet-lagged and tired. That’s when I noticed a woman approaching and stopping behind me, striking, graceful, unforgettable. She picked up her luggage and disappeared, leaving me with a strange sense of disappointment. I was surprised by how much I hoped to see her again, though I didn’t expect to.

But fate had other plans.

Outside the terminal, as I struggled to get my mobile data working and fended off aggressive taxi drivers, she reappeared. Seeing my distress, she stepped in, talking to me in English, and offering to share her ride with me. I was hesitant at first, but what could I say, I broke my rule about official taxi’s and accepted her help, feeling saved from the chaos of the aggressive taxi drivers!

That woman turned out to be my future wife, a one-in-seven-billion chance meeting.

We didn’t talk easily. Her English was good, but not yet fluent, and as a native English speaker, I spoke too quickly for her to understand me well. “What, what, what?” became a running joke and a common response between us. But we talked. We exchanged WeChat info. And we met again one evening while I was in Dalian and before she flew to Thailand for a dance competition. We walked the beach and shared stories. And just like that, she was gone again. No doubt I was smitten.

I wouldn’t see her again in person for nearly three and a half years.

COVID made everything hard. But somehow, it didn’t break us. We stayed connected and even deepened our relationship. She was focused, curious, smart, and driven. And I loved her more with each passing month. Loving someone from a distance isn’t easy. But it’s not impossible.

When COVID travel restrictions were lifted, I took every opportunity I had to fly to China and see Xue. A bonus was that work allowed me to travel across the country, bringing me to cities like Shanghai, Suzhou, and Xi’an. I had the chance to see the Terracotta Army in a sweltering crowd, where I truly learned what real humidity feels like, shuffling shoulder to shoulder in a sea of people, the concept of personal space very different from what I was used to. I navigated China’s cities with awe and respect, constantly learning about the culture, about patience, and about partnership.

Now I’m returning again. This time, not for business. For my life.

Xue and I will be living in Dalian together. We’re expecting our first child, and soon we’ll find our first apartment, our first real home. It’s surreal. It’s beautiful. And it’s right.

There’s a quote from Lonesome Dove that captures this moment perfectly:

“There ain’t nothin’ like ridin’ a fine horse in new country.” – Capt. Augustus McCrae

I’m riding to a new country. And this is my journey.