This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Luisa Zhou. It has been edited for length and clarity.
My parents raised me to get good grades, go to a good college, and get a good job. They were entirely focused on security because they didn’t want my sister and me to experience the hardships that they had as immigrants. They encouraged me not to take risks — just keep my head down, work hard, and appreciate what I had.
The day I got into Princeton, I thought, “Thank goodness. I’m going to be OK.” I graduated with an engineering degree and started working in analytics at a financial services company.
It was what I’d been raised to do, but from the beginning, it wasn’t a good fit. I hated that my boss wouldn’t let me leave before 5, even if I’d finished all my work. Still, I thought that if I climbed the corporate ladder, the work might become more challenging and fulfilling.
I needed more flexibility to be there for my family
In my early 20s, I met a man who was launching a startup. He brought me on as cofounder because of my engineering background. Raising money for the startup opened my eyes to a whole new world of career options. That venture failed, but it gave me a different skill set and worldview.
After that, I started working at a digital ad startup. I had a six-figure salary and a cool job, but I still wanted more.
Then, my family had a difficult year: my dad had heart surgery, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and my little sister experienced an eye injury that required her to sit in the dark for weeks on end. My sister was staying with me, and as I shut the door on the way to work one day, she quietly said “Bye.” It broke my heart that I had to leave her.
That’s the moment I vowed to do something that would let me spend more time with the people I loved.
My Chinese background helped me stay focused on the long term
I’m fairly risk-averse, so I didn’t do anything sudden. Instead, I spent the next two years building my side business, offering coaching, ad consulting, and other services. I was working on my lunch break and at night, so I had even less time for family than before.
That’s where my background really helped me. My parents and grandparents raised me on a Chinese proverb: “First bitter, then sweet.” I knew I was working hard then, so I could enjoy the fruits later.
Those early years were challenging because I’m not naturally confident. It seemed like no one believed in me. I was seen as nice, but not necessarily smart or business-minded. That gave me a chip on my shoulder, and I was determined to prove myself. The year I was 26, the business did more than $1 million in revenue. Last year, I did more than $1.5 million in revenue, while working fewer hours.
Now I have time for my husband, parents, and dog
At first, I didn’t understand that $1 million doesn’t mean you’re a millionaire, especially when you factor in costs and taxes. I still needed to learn about managing money and work on my own mindset about spending. As I did that, my wealth really accumulated: by the time I was 30, I had $1 million in investable assets.
Today, I’m 36. Although I’m a millionaire, my parents still nervously ask me if work is going OK every time we speak. They don’t understand this alternative path, and that’s OK. We just don’t talk about it much.
Having financial security was worth the non-stop work in those earlier years. These days, I typically work about four hours a day. I limit my screen time and only book phone calls two weeks out of the month. I spend about two hours each day walking my German Shepherd, and I have the flexibility to spend time with my husband — he’s a doctor, so his schedule is much more demanding. I can easily travel to visit my parents.
It took a lot to get here, but I’m so glad that I’ve been able to step away from the time-money trade-off.
