As a Mongolian ethic group who grew up within the memories of grassland culture, I was once surrounded by a language, rhythm, and way of life deeply connected to the land. Yet in my youth, I deliberately distanced myself from these roots—believing that leaving them behind would open the door to a broader, more modern world.

Transitioning from a Mongolian-language education to a Chinese-language system, I gradually erased the traces of my own culture. But as I became fully immersed in modern life, I realized that what I had set aside was not a boundary, but a foundation—something that continued to define me even in absence.