Roots

I grew up on the red-earth slopes of Đắk Lắk, where time isn't counted in days and months but measured in seasons of blossom, each laying its head on the last. In a land of coffee, pepper and durian, farmers never sit with folded arms waiting on the weather; they read the sky and step one beat ahead. That way of living, never waiting for the season, seeped quietly into my blood long before I understood what "starting up" meant.

At fifteen, I packed a backpack and left for Buôn Ma Thuột. The freedom of youth is sometimes a coat several sizes too big. For a stretch of my life, I lost myself. I let those years slip away under the sallow light of internet cafés where I hid from class, shaping a brash, careless persona online. All that meaningless noise was, in the end, only a clumsy shield raised to hide an inner world coming apart, a boy utterly lost before his first failures, with nothing to hold on to.

The awakening that led me back toward the light began when I set foot in the University of Economics and Law (UEL). It didn't greet me with textbooks; it planted in me the seed of original creation. For three long years I immersed myself in research. Through sleepless nights untangling one error at a time, from the first rough lines of code to a system finally taking shape, I found a pure kind of passion again. For the first time, I understood what it truly means to create real value.

That quiet, stubborn habit of digging deep became what carried me through the doors of ShopBack. There I grew from an intern into a full-time engineer, and alongside a team full of heart, we brought AI agents into the system as genuine co-workers. Those were the brightest, most complete days of work I have known.

Growing up, though, is rarely a straight line. When I left, hoping to give my best to homegrown companies, I stepped into empty air. The rigidity of old office habits, where people get caught in layers of formality instead of building anything of value, came as a shock, and it broke the dream I had carried in.

Back at UEL, under the open sky of academic freedom that Professor Lê Hoành Sử has so patiently tended, I felt alive again. Every layer of pretence fell away, leaving only someone in love with the work. At BA-AI Lab, my greatest joy is no longer just solving hard problems myself, but the moment I can step back and watch the younger ones grow.

The journeys that came later are no longer escapes or searches for a way out. They are affirmations. The lost boy in the internet café now knows where his roots are. I choose to keep the fire steady in this small corner, growing, with the people beside me, a way of working that is kind, free and transparent. Better humble and with a soul than lost inside something lavish and meaningless.