The Mid-Autumn Festival* is here again. Moonlight spills across the eaves, carrying the faint sweetness of osmanthus on the wind. Centuries ago, Chinese famous poet Li Bai said:

“The people of today do not see the moon of old,
But the same moon once shone on those before us.”

A friend, a fellow founder, recently asked me: After a year of relentless pursuit, what’s the single most authentic feeling that surfaces when the calendar finally forces you to stop?

My answer was simple: Cherish what you hold right now.

We use work to delay life. We say “later” to the people and moments that actually define success. We defer the difficult, immediate gratitude for an assumed, glorious “when-we-make-it” future.

This isn’t generic advice. This is a truth forged from the regret of lost moments—the high-cost transaction of trading presence for pursuit.

I. The Sunlit ‘Later’ That Became Never

My last summer before university, my grandmother visited. The afternoon sun, like warm amber, filled the room. She turned to me and whispered, “Shall I take you to university?”

My mind was already on the horizon—the campus, the future. I gently declined, citing the long journey, promising her a grand visit once I was settled. She just smiled. The light caught the silver in her hair.

I didn’t know then that some agreements come with no “later.” That sunlit afternoon, her quiet offer, and the warmth of her presence became my final, complete memory. 

II. A Mentor Without a Photo

In my darkest professional valley, a mentor stood by me. He saw a “blooming flower” and a “rising sun,” when I saw only data points of failure. Our most pivotal conversations happened on walks because sitting too long hurt his back.

When I began my startup, he fell gravely ill. To avoid distracting me, he chose radio silence — a final, devastating act of support. By the time I rushed to his bedside, his once-tall frame had withered to a frail shadow. I had to stand at the foot of his bed for our eyes to meet.

We realized we had never taken a single photo together—always assuming there would be another chance.

But there wasn’t. Our story remains only in memory.

III. The Dog Who Walked Closest to the Street

And then there was my dog, Bubble—forever cheerful, forever protective. On walks, she always positioned herself closer to the road, nudging me gently toward safety. When I called my parents on video, she would push her big head into the camera, competing to see whose face was bigger.

Through every triumph and every setback—funding wins, product failures—she was there, offering joy or quiet companionship. Her short life taught me the purest definition of love and loyalty.

Technology has given me a way to preserve fragments of those moments. Photos, videos, and even AI reconstructions keep traces alive. But they are no substitute for the living presence we too often take for granted.

IV. What This Means for Us as Founders and Leaders

Entrepreneurs often live in the future—thinking in terms of scale, milestones, and exits. But life is happening now. And leadership is not only about building the next platform, product, or company; it’s also about how we honour the relationships and moments that give meaning to what we build.

The truth is: what softens us, sustains us, and makes us human is rarely the grand narrative. It’s the small things—the afternoon sunlight, a word of encouragement, a wagging tail.

As another Mid-Autumn moon rises, I return to an ancient line:

“Ancient and modern, like a flowing stream—
We gaze upon the same bright moon.”

Time carries us all forward. But tonight, under the same moon as countless generations before, we still hold the power to pause, reflect, and treasure the present.

So I leave you with one question:

Who—or what—deserves your attention right now, before “later” becomes too late?

Final Notes

As founders, investors, and leaders, may we learn not only to build companies that last—but also to live moments that matter.

Note: The Mid-Autumn Festival is a traditional Chinese holiday celebrating family reunion, observed on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month, coinciding with the brightest full moon. A key tradition is eating mooncakes—dense, round pastries with a variety of sweet or savoury fillings that symbolize the full moon.

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