Big‑Tech Quit Diary: Life Is Good

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Yunnan, Jiama Town, Building—may all our affairs go smoothly

Today is October 31, 2025.

It’s also the 128th day since I quit my job at a big internet company without a safety net.

I’ve been meaning to write an article for a while now. Maybe I want to explain why I quit (so many people ask me that), maybe I want to share how I’ve been spending the past few months, and so on. But every time I sit down to write, I think: right now I’m essentially a jobless drifter, and I have no answers to the questions many people care about—how I’ll live, how I’ll earn a living, what the future holds.

So I could just not write. And that’s how it’s gone on for so long.

But today I still feel compelled to talk about why I left that glossy, well‑paid position at a big tech firm.

After months of wandering and asking around, I can responsibly say that working at a big tech company is, in terms of earnings versus effort, an extremely high‑value job. Even with the 9‑to‑9 grind, the relentless reporting, and the pressure to constantly out‑perform, when you look at physical effort, risk avoidance, salary, and benefits, a big‑tech job truly feels like a “blessing.”

I’m stating this as an objective fact, not as advice to either stay in big tech or to quit as soon as possible.

Why I Quit “Naked”

So why did I quit without a backup?

The most immediate reason is that, in the final stretch of my time at the company, I could clearly feel my mental state deteriorating. After a lot of inner conflict, I finally went to the Sixth Hospital of Peking University for a check‑up, clinging to a thin hope that nothing was wrong. When I saw the diagnosis on the medical record—“depressive symptoms”—I knew, at that moment, that it was time to end it all.

There were also long‑standing issues.

Before this, I’d had deep conversations with several close friends and undergone half a year of psychotherapy. Through those sessions, I gradually realized how profoundly dissatisfied I was with both my work and my life.

At work, I felt increasingly like a replaceable cog—no autonomy, no sense of achievement, a chaotic troupe of people scrambling to put together PPTs, dodging hidden criticisms, and eventually not even being able to be myself. In hindsight, it’s no wonder I felt depressed in such a stifling environment.

In life, day after day, week after week, I was living mechanically, barely feeling my own existence. Consequently, I couldn’t grasp the meaning of work, of life, of being, of simply living.

Changing companies might have solved the work‑related issues, but the existential questions would have remained.

So, believing that “Life is short” and “You only live once,” I resolutely quit without a safety net.

Rest, Recover, Find Myself

The first thing I wanted to do after quitting was to rest and rediscover who I am.

A friend told me that when I first resigned, I seemed to have a dark cloud hovering over my head, and I was completely listless.

Following another friend’s suggestion that I avoid any mental‑intensive work at that time, she recommended I try waiting tables at a restaurant.

By chance, in July I ended up in Hanxi Village, Jingdezhen, helping a friend set up the Wooro Wool Roll Café. Village life was quiet and peaceful, and serving as a waiter was simple and joyful—looking back, it still feels wonderful.

I’ll write a separate post about my café‑working days.

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Watching clouds drift by at the café

Later, in August, I traveled to Lijiang and Shaxi in Yunnan with my parents.

It was my first family trip since graduation and the first time I’d spent such an extended period with them. The journey had its share of arguments, but it remains a treasured memory.

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Distant mountains, white clouds, emerald rice fields

After that, I attended an in‑person training for the nonprofit “Half‑Warm” in Hangzhou. There I met a wonderful group of people, practiced mindfulness together, learned how to lead mindfulness sessions, and participated in workshops on how to organize them.

Throughout the process I felt genuine sincerity and support, drawing warmth and energy from everyone.

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Watching a video on how to mindfully eat an orange

Then, in October, a friend suggested I try the DNA Anji Digital Nomad Community. I spent a week there in mid‑October. The campus‑like atmosphere was so captivating that after I left, I found myself thinking about it every day.

Of course, the sprawling tea fields of Anji also healed me.

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Endless tea plantations

At the end of October I went to the DN Huangshan Digital Nomad Commune to experience yet another community vibe.

A funny moment: while taking a Didi ride, the driver asked, “Are you heading to the alien base?”

I replied, “Yes, I am the alien 👽.”

Note: The theme of the DN Huangshan Digital Nomad Commune is “Aliens,” and the wall bears the slogan “All the world’s aliens unite.”

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China, Huangshan, Alien Base

One hundred twenty‑eight days have passed; time keeps moving, and the dark cloud over my head is slowly dissipating.

The old me is gradually returning—at least a part of me.

Living Like a Human

These past few days I’ve been in Huangshan, and my daily routine looks like this:

I wake up naturally, have breakfast whenever I feel like it, then wait 10–15 minutes for the bus to the city center. After getting off, I stroll leisurely to a restaurant and enjoy a proper lunch.

After lunch I find a nearby café, order a coffee, and either open my laptop, sort through things, write, or simply watch the scenery.

In the evening, when it’s dark, I head to a restaurant I’ve been eyeing for dinner. If it’s a bit of a walk, I enjoy the view along the way.

After dinner I either take the bus or a taxi back to DN Huangshan, sit at my workstation, and either zone out, watch a show, or join a community activity. While I’m at my desk, I can occasionally hear the rumble of a green‑painted train passing on the tracks nearby—the sound is loud enough to announce its presence to the whole world.

When I’m tired, I wash up and go to sleep, listening to my body’s cues.

Living like a human—slowing down, savoring each moment, saying goodbye to the robot mode and the “work‑horse” grind.

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