In 2020, I enrolled in Hong Kong Baptist University to study accounting.
It was a “safe” choice. A practical major. A track people trusted.
But I quickly realized—I was just going through the motions. What actually kept me up at night, what made me feel alive, was music.
I started an original band with a few friends.
We rehearsed constantly, played gigs, and even organized a campus music festival with over 400 people in attendance.
After that show, I knew:
Music is something I’d take responsibility for. Not just a hobby—it’s part of who I am.
One day, I remembered a custom headless bass I had ordered two years ago.
It was light, vintage-sounding, felt great to play—but had some obvious design flaws.
And I wondered:
“What if I could improve it? What if it could become something more?”
So I booked a solo flight to Jinan—just to meet the luthier who had made that bass: Yang.
We talked for hours. About wood, tone, vintage Fender designs… and the headless market. Yang pointed out that most headless basses looked futuristic and sounded sterile. Nobody, he said, was seriously exploring vintage + headless.
Then he joked:
“You should quit accounting and help me start a bass brand.”
And for some reason… I didn’t laugh.
Because deep down, something flickered.
It wasn’t the absurdity of the idea that caught me—it was the fact that I actually wanted to try.
It felt like one of those movie moments.
One line hits you, and suddenly you see a different version of your future—clearer, closer, and somehow… right.