I studied finance and accounting in college, and I worked at a

Hear, O seeker of wisdom, the reflective words of Simu Liu, spoken not from pride, but from the deep understanding that comes only through transformation: “I studied finance and accounting in college, and I worked at a massive accounting firm out of graduation.” At first glance, these words may seem plain, the record of an ordinary career beginning. Yet within them lies a profound truth — the truth of divergence, of discovering one’s true path not through certainty, but through contrast. In these few sentences, Liu unveils the first act of his journey: a time when he walked the road expected of him, before daring to walk the one that called to his soul.

The meaning of this quote is rooted in the universal tension between expectation and authenticity. Simu Liu, who would one day rise as a global symbol of courage and representation through his role in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, began as a young man shaped by the expectations of his family and culture. He pursued finance and accounting, fields respected for their order, stability, and prestige. Upon graduation, he secured a position at one of the great accounting firms — a path that promised success in the eyes of the world, yet whispered little to the heart. His story speaks to all who have walked a road chosen for them rather than by them — those who fulfill the duties of the mind while silencing the desires of the spirit.

The origin of these words lies in the story of a son shaped by the hopes of his immigrant parents. Like many children of sacrifice, Liu was taught that education and stability were the gateways to a better life. To honor his parents’ struggle, he embraced the path they believed would secure his future. Yet destiny, patient and persistent, cannot be denied forever. Within the rigid lines of accounting, he found the stirrings of discontent — not rebellion, but awakening. The soul that would one day bring characters to life on screen began to whisper to him even in the quiet halls of the firm. The numbers he tallied did not sing; the spreadsheets did not spark. And so, the man who once balanced ledgers learned that balance of another kind — the harmony between duty and passion — was what he truly sought.

Consider, O listener, the tale of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor, who in his youth studied rhetoric and law because it was expected of a man of rank. Yet it was not until he embraced philosophy — the study of wisdom and virtue — that he discovered his true nature. So it is with Simu Liu and countless others: the first career, the first path, the first identity are often the scaffolds upon which the soul builds its foundation. They are necessary not because they fulfill us, but because they teach us what does not. The great paradox of life is that sometimes we must live the wrong story to realize the right one.

In Liu’s journey, there is no bitterness toward his beginnings. He speaks of them with respect, for they formed his discipline and endurance — the qualities that would later sustain him through rejection and struggle as an actor. The world of finance taught him structure; the world of art taught him freedom. Both were teachers. The month-end reports and ledgers may have bored his heart, but they sharpened his mind. Thus, his time at that accounting firm was not a mistake, but a chapter — one that revealed the dissonance between success and fulfillment, between external achievement and internal truth.

The lesson here is as timeless as it is tender: do not fear the paths that begin in duty, for they often lead to discovery. Many walk roads not of their choosing — careers dictated by practicality, traditions shaped by fear. Yet within every task lies the seed of self-knowledge. If you find your spirit restless, listen to it. If your work feels hollow, do not despair; you are being shown the door to your destiny. What matters is not that your first step was imperfect, but that you keep walking until you find your calling. The journey from accountant to artist, from stability to purpose, is not a fall — it is an ascension.

So, O reader, take this as both comfort and challenge: do not mistake the beginning of your journey for its end. Your graduation from one life may be only the prelude to the next. If you find yourself in a place where your heart is quiet but not alive, know that this, too, is part of your preparation. Like Simu Liu, let duty refine your discipline and disappointment awaken your dream. For when the moment comes to step into the life that truly belongs to you, you will do so with gratitude for all that came before — and with the strength to stand in the light of your own truth.