Zhan Xuan | The One Who Travels Far
Zhan Xuan sat quietly in front of the dressing mirror, the soft, well-balanced light falling gently across his face, just like the gaze reflected in the glass. If he hadn’t mentioned it himself, no one would have guessed that the night before the shoot, because of work and the restlessness in his mind, he had barely slept at all.
When the camera focused on him and the sound of shutters and cheers filled the air, Zhan Xuan stood at the intersection of light and shadow, lowering his head slightly or lost in silent thought without the slightest trace of arrogance. Nine years after his debut, Zhan Xuan finally tasted the fervent attention and fame that came with being both an actor and an artist in early 2025. As the tide of traffic, attention, and opportunity surged toward him with all its noise, he felt a touch of unease, some hesitation in his chest, but never pride or self-satisfaction. His thoughts drifted endlessly, like a silent tide washing again and again against the shore of his heart.
“It feels like, deep down, I always think I’m still not quite worthy of everything I have right now.”
Looking back at the long, winding path behind him, stained with sweat and marked with countless footprints, Zhan Xuan feels it’s far from time to dock and rest. To him, this stage of his journey is merely the beginning of yet another voyage against the current.
Let us trace back against the flow of his story, follow the road he once walked, and see how time has sculpted him into who he is today. To get to know Zhan Xuan once again is like catching up with an old friend.
01 Fireflies or Blazing Flames
In Zhan Xuan’s memories, the clearest image from his childhood is of summer nights in the vegetable garden. He has often described to friends the brightness and stillness of those summer evenings, even weaving them into his songs.
In his recollection, the summer nights in the village were as bright as day. The garden brimmed with the full moon, shining stars, and countless swirling fireflies. “While other kids loved catching fireflies in jars, Zhan Xuan preferred simply watching them quietly fall and glow among the grass. He would never disturb them,” a friend recalled.
Fireflies and summer nights were beautiful, yet when you think about it carefully, they might have been the only bright colors in Zhan Xuan’s childhood.
“My family was just an ordinary one. My parents were always busy when I was little, and later my father went to work in Shanghai. I wasn’t very healthy as a child, it felt like there was a life-threatening incident every year. When I was five, I almost drowned after falling into a river; when I was six, I had a sudden concussion and could barely stand; when I was seven, I fell seriously ill again… But somehow, I survived each time for reasons no one could explain. Sometimes I think my greatest fortune is simply that after all these hardships, I’m still alive.”
Zhan Xuan’s tone was light, as if he were telling someone else’s story. “A friend who once heard about my childhood said I’m like a ‘flower growing out of stone.’ He said that with experiences like mine, most people might have already given up. I think I survived because I can always find something optimistic in everything that happens.”
From a young age, Zhan Xuan learned deeply what it meant to “share burdens.” At the age of five, while his parents were out working, he went to the kitchen alone and tried to cook a bowl of porridge. It was his first time cooking, the little boy had to stand on tiptoe just to reach the stove. No one had ever taught him how to light the fire, wash the rice, or cook it properly. He relied solely on the impressions he had gathered from watching adults and managed to complete each step.
After the porridge was done, he carried the steaming bowl for several miles to bring it to his parents. Looking back now, he can barely remember how far that road was, how hot the bowl felt, or how high the stove seemed. All those difficulties have faded into the distance. What remains vivid in his memory is only his mother’s smiling face, “My mom was so pleasantly surprised.”
The taste of that bowl of porridge he once cooked alone took root in Zhan Xuan’s heart. In the years that followed, through hardship, confusion, and uncertainty, he never once thought of giving up. Much of the strength that kept him moving forward came from a simple wish: to give his parents a better life.
His manager was especially touched by this: “Among all the artists I’ve worked with and met, Zhan Xuan is probably the most filial. Whenever he receives payment for his work, the first thing he thinks about is sending it to his parents or buying something for them.”
Zhan Xuan said, “I’ve always wanted to one day make a movie about my mother’s story. She cut off her long hair for me, sacrificed so much for our family. Even now, her hair remains short. Sometimes I think, I have to work harder. I hope that one day, she can grow back the long hair she once loved.”
Fate tested him early and harshly, but all of it made his heart softer, and his core stronger.
02 The Transparent One
“My chat profile picture is black. I’m a man of few words.” When the interview began, Zhan Xuan smiled playfully as he introduced himself. The black profile picture, he explained, was like a protective shell he set up for himself.
He is a young man who, within a short time, rose to popularity after being selected through a trending show and it took less than a month for his name to appear frequently on the hot search list. Yet sitting in front of the camera, there was not the slightest trace of exhilaration at having “made it.” On the contrary, he appeared tired, even a little uneasy.
If you step into Zhan Xuan’s life, you’ll find that his social circle is remarkably small. His best friend has known him since kindergarten, his “childhood friend.” His work partner is his manager, who’s been with him since his early years in the industry. Whether it’s professional collaboration or personal connection, everything around Zhan Xuan seems to circle back to trust and familiarity.
As for his sudden rise to fame, both friends and colleagues, while happy for him, have voiced the same concern: “With fame comes all sorts of voices, and I’m afraid he’ll be affected by them.”
Friends who grew up with Zhan Xuan still remember how he showed an artistic talent from an early age. He was the school’s radio announcer and often represented his class in recitation competitions. His love for performing, singing, and dancing seemed almost innate.
“I don’t think there was ever a specific period, it feels like I’ve always loved singing, dancing, and acting.” As a child, he would imitate characters from Spring Festival Gala sketches, TV dramas, or even people he observed in daily life who had distinctive traits. “For example, I used to mimic how our teachers acted when giving lessons.”
However, his friends remember that back then, he rarely took the initiative to show off. Whenever strangers were around, Zhan Xuan would consciously turn himself into a “transparent person,” unwilling to draw any attention.
He enjoyed being alone. “I like sitting somewhere in a daze, just watching people come and go, doing nothing, saying nothing.” Yet when he was with friends, Zhan Xuan was always the one making sure everyone had something to eat and drink, paying attention to everyone’s mood. If the atmosphere ever turned a bit cold, he would be the first to jump in and start a conversation. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”
“When I was very young, around seven, I think, one night I suddenly felt overwhelmed with fear for no clear reason. I started thinking about how the world keeps turning every day. If one day I were no longer here, buried in the ground, the world would still go on, and everything happening would have nothing to do with me anymore. I don’t know why I was thinking about such abstract, intangible things at that age.”
Life’s encounters are like faint traces of a snake in the grass, subtle lines stretching far into the distance. Perhaps it was precisely this unusual sense of insecurity, and those early experiences that were more complex and turbulent than most of his peers’, that shaped Zhan Xuan’s unique perception of the world. They made him deeply sensitive to the joys and sorrows of others, and quietly laid the groundwork for him to truly become a good actor.
03 Moonlight Homeward
As a child, Zhan Xuan was once fascinated by 快乐星球 (Happy Star). Sitting in front of the television, he would imagine himself helping others like the characters in the show, traveling through outer space. “I even tried calling the number on TV when they were recruiting child actors for Happy Star, but I couldn’t get through.”
Beyond that phone call, however, the idea of becoming an actor was never something he truly dared to dream of. Considering his family background, living conditions, and reality, attending a professional arts academy was almost impossible, at times, he even had to work part-time while studying to make ends meet.
His memories of youth are tied to the many part-time jobs he did: working in a restaurant kitchen, helping his father with construction work, doing part-time sales at a mobile phone store, all to save up 600 yuan for his one-way trip to Beijing. “Back then, I lived near the Sihui East subway station in Beijing. Every morning, I’d hear a vendor selling candied hawthorn singing nearby, that’s how I learned my first pop song. Later, I rented a basement near the Military Museum. It was dark without daylight, just like I was at the time, unable to see the future.”
During those “dark days,” every job he did was purely for survival, without any lofty goals or dreams. Yet, compared to others, Zhan Xuan always brought an unusual sense of focus and persistence to everything he did. For example, when selling phones and SIM cards at the store, he trained himself to apply phone screen protectors perfectly by hand, learning to align the edges precisely without using any tools.
“It was while working part-time that one day someone suddenly asked me if I wanted to be an extra. I calculated the daily pay and thought it wasn’t bad, so I went. Back then, I didn’t dare to think about becoming a professional actor, it was just about making money and getting by.”
During his hardest times, he was once scammed by a fake casting call for extras and was left with only two yuan to his name. “Luckily, at that time, you could ride the Beijing subway anywhere for just two yuan, otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to get home. After that, I told myself that no matter what, I should always keep at least two yuan on me, just in case.”
During those days, Zhan Xuan played passersby, corpses, and lived in basement rooms. Because of his good performance, he gradually found himself being placed closer to the front of the camera, and through recommendations, he eventually received an opportunity to perform in a stage play in Shanghai.
It was only then that Zhan Xuan truly began to have a dream, a dream about being an actor, about performing. For many people, having a dream might not seem like such a difficult thing. But in Zhan Xuan’s story, reaching that point meant he had finally earned the courage, and the right, to dream.
Zhan Xuan devoted himself completely to his work as a stage actor. The singing, dancing, and acting skills required for the performances were all things he learned from scratch within the troupe. Like a dry sponge dropped into water, he absorbed everything that came his way with eagerness.
His friends vividly remember one night after a late rehearsal when the subway had already stopped running. To save money, Zhan Xuan decided not to take a taxi but to walk home, five hours on foot until his legs were sore and swollen.
“They probably felt too sorry for me, but honestly, it wasn’t that serious,” Zhan Xuan recalled with a cheerful tone, as if telling someone else’s story. “Actually, I was quite happy during those five hours. In the first half of the walk, a colleague accompanied me. We sang songs under the moonlight while walking home, and before we knew it, the five hours had passed.”
The real test came during the stage play’s rehearsal period. Before one performance, he developed a high fever of 40°C. But because there was no understudy for his role, he had no choice but to go on stage, even though every step was excruciatingly painful.
“In that play, I was the male lead, and I had to sing and dance on stage for more than three hours. I didn’t dare to make any requests or upset anyone, so I just forced myself through it. After the performance, my legs were covered in rashes and so swollen I couldn’t walk.”
After that, he was bedridden for nearly a month. Some people advised him to give up and switch careers, but he didn’t waver. He only wanted to recover quickly and continue pursuing opportunities to act.
“Looking back, I’m actually really grateful to my parents. Although they were worried and didn’t quite understand what I was insisting on back then, they still chose to care for me and support me through their actions. Without them, I might not have been able to hold on, maybe I really would have changed careers just to make a living.”
04 The Stubborn One
In the days that followed, whenever Zhan Xuan mentioned that he didn’t graduate from “a formal acting program,” there was often a trace of regret in his tone. Unlike actors who graduated from prestigious academies and learned performance techniques through professional classes and stage rehearsals, Zhan Xuan’s path was far more unconventional, he learned about acting while riding on buses between performances, eating simple meals, and slowly figuring out what “acting” truly meant.
But as he faced the stark realities of life, Zhan Xuan gradually came to understand that some of his early ideals were overly romanticized. Acting, to him, was no longer just a profession. “I started reading a lot of books and watching many films. I realized that being an actor is a very sacred profession.”
When performing, Zhan Xuan pays particular attention to a character’s internal logic and sense of authenticity. Whether it is a long-form drama or a short series, and regardless of how much space the script gives the role, he always spends time before filming mapping out a logical thread that can convince himself.
“When I get a new script, I read it carefully, and then in my mind, I start turning the gears, imagining how this character lives, how they think. I’ll also communicate with the director or writer to understand their perspective on the role. That way, the character becomes more vivid to me. Sometimes, I’ll even revisit past works that feature similar characters for reference.”
Throughout this process, even when the logic doesn’t flow perfectly, Zhan Xuan never allows himself to “let go.” Instead, he keeps pushing through, pouring every bit of his limited energy into refining the role, bit by bit, detail by detail.
“He keeps talking about logic, logic, whenever he’s filming, the word I hear him say most often is ‘logic.’” His manager spoke half-lovingly, half-exasperatedly, about Zhan Xuan’s stubborn dedication to acting.
Over the past few years, Zhan Xuan has worked on more than a dozen film and drama projects, both long and short. In today’s industry environment, filming schedules are often pushed to be as short as possible, and long days that start early and end late are the norm. In his manager’s eyes, Zhan Xuan is one of the easiest actors to manage. No matter how early, late, or long the filming days are, he never complains, no matter how difficult the shoot, if the role demands it, he gives it his all. There was even a time when he got scraped during filming but stayed completely silent about it.
“But whenever there’s even the slightest part of the role or script that he can’t quite figure out in his mind, he becomes completely stuck on it,” the manager said. She often advises him not to sacrifice too much rest just to “work through a character,” but deep down, she knows that his persistence toward his roles is his unbreakable rule.
“To become the character, I have to understand both my own motives and those of others, why I say this line, why I take this action; I need to think it through completely,” he explained. If he finds something illogical about a character, he will always bring it up. “Sometimes I even step into the shoes not of the character, but of the audience. I think from their perspective, what doubts or confusions might they have based on their real-life experiences?”
In this industry, roles and projects come in all forms, “S-level” and “A-level” productions, leads and supporting roles, horizontal or vertical screen formats. But for Zhan Xuan, no matter what kind of performance he’s given, he treats them all the same, with the same unyielding, stubborn dedication.
“In terms of acting, I still have a lot to learn. I hope I can become a part of the person I’m portraying, to live a piece of their life. Some of their spirit and traits will stay with me, nourishing me in return.”
At this stage, what Zhan Xuan looks forward to most is having the chance to play more meaningful roles. “I wouldn’t dare to say I’ve done particularly well in the past, only that I’ve given my all to every single role. And I believe I’ll do even better in the future.”
“There was one time I went to an audition. Among all the candidates in the room, I was probably the least well-known, but I performed quite well and made it through to the final rounds, only to be rejected in the end.” Rejection was common for Zhan Xuan at that stage of his career, but he didn’t stay discouraged for long. “Later, when the show was aired, I found out that the person who ended up playing that role had never even auditioned.” It was a cruel yet “normal” reality of the industry.
“I’m still grateful for popularity, because it’s what gives me more opportunities to be seen,” Zhan Xuan said. “But I hope to use time to prove that I’m still myself, that no matter how the environment changes, my attitude toward acting won’t. I’m confident about that.”
Now, he stands at what could be called a new starting point in his career. Everything that once seemed out of reach is gradually coming toward him, yet he continues to remind himself to stay grounded. “Up to this point, I still sometimes feel a sense of unreality. I just hope I can have enough strength and enough work to solidify everything I’ve gained.”
He hopes for new roles, strong production teams, and, if possible, a chance to appear on the big screen. “I really hope that one day I can take my mom and dad to the cinema to watch a film I’m in, even if it’s just a small part, just a few scenes.”
05 Before Being “Seen”
Before he was “seen,” like many young actors struggling in the industry, Zhan Xuan went through nearly two years without any roles, without any crews to join, and without any opportunities to film.
“During those two years, apart from the firm belief deep down that I wanted to be an actor, I basically had nothing, no work, no direction. Every day I listened to the noises in my rented apartment building, neighbors moving in and out, life just repeating in cycles.”
It was probably around that time that Zhan Xuan began to love cooking. “I really enjoy the process of cooking. For me, it’s a kind of creation. For example, when I braise pork, if I have three hours, I have my own ‘private recipe’ that makes the meat tender but not greasy, flavorful with every bite. And I care a lot about presentation, my dishes have to look, smell, and taste perfect.”
Besides spending his free time cooking, Zhan Xuan also started raising cats and dogs during that period.
His cat is named Xiaowai. “When it was little, one of its teeth grew crookedly and stuck out, so I gave it that name.” Because of that crooked tooth, Xiaowai became the “undesirable one” among its litter. “When I saw it curled up alone in the corner of the video, I felt it was so pitiful, nobody wanted it. It reminded me of myself, waiting to be chosen by fate.” Zhan Xuan immediately decided to adopt it.
The cattery was in another city, and he waited at the bus station until midnight to finally pick up the tiny kitten. “The first time I saw it, I reached out my hand and it slowly walked over, leaned against my palm, it was only as big as my hand. I’d never raised a cat before, so I started learning everything from scratch, searching online about what kind of milk kittens should drink and what food they should eat.”
Now Xiaowai is six years old. It has a slightly aloof personality and only lets Zhan Xuan hold it. Miraculously, that crooked tooth fell out when it changed teeth, and now it has become a sleek, round, beautiful cat. “It’s a lot like a part of my own personality, quiet, independent. It understands me so well. Whenever I join a film crew, I try to bring it with me.”
“My dog is a golden Border Collie. It’s the most good-tempered dog I’ve ever met, even when it gets bitten while playing with other dogs, it never barks.” Back then, Zhan Xuan would drive with his cat and dog to go camping, just one person, one car, one cat, one dog, watching the sunrise and sunset, running freely together across the grass. In those days when he couldn’t see what tomorrow would bring, the warm companionship of his furry friends saved him from a life on the brink.
“Back then, my mindset was that I could scrimp and save on everything for myself, but I wanted to give them the best life possible. Even if I got sick, I might not go to the hospital, but I’d still want to buy them the best food and the nicest things.”
During his most idle days, he once drove out to a scenic spot in the suburbs with his cat and dog, hung up a sign he had hand-written himself, and started selling coffee. He kept at it for several days, until he realized that the more he sold, the more money he lost, and finally gave up.
“I just have this mindset that whatever I do, I want to do it the best I can. Back then, I used coffee beans that cost more than 400 yuan per jin and bought really nice cups and packaging, but I only sold each cup for six yuan. No matter how I calculated it, I was losing badly.” Zhan Xuan laughed as he recalled, “In the end I realized I was basically doing charity work.”
Even after his career started to pick up, Zhan Xuan still tried his best to personally take care of his two pets. “We often asked him if he wanted us to look after his cat and dog while he was filming, but unless it was absolutely necessary, he would never trouble anyone,” his friends said. “He always has his own way of balancing work and caring for them. Even now, when he’s away on business, he opens his camera every day to video-chat with them.”
“Zhan Xuan has such a strong sense of responsibility that sometimes it makes things harder for himself,” his manager said, who is also the one most often called to help as the “on-call pet sitter.” “Whenever he asks me for help, I know it’s only because he’s already exhausted every other option and really has no other choice.”
06 Mistakes
Even on the day of the interview and photoshoot, Zhan Xuan still hadn’t fully adjusted to life in the spotlight, from obscurity to sudden fame. Both the positive and negative attention brought him, to varying degrees, a sense of unease and insecurity.
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t yet deserve everything I have now. I need something tangible to make myself feel grounded and worthy, something that gives me a sense of security. For example, just working hard to get through the day, or learning a new skill, or feeling that I’ve made some kind of progress.”
“He’s always asking his manager for the schedule,” someone close to him said, “wanting to know what projects might be coming up next. He always says, ‘If there’s ever a day when I don’t have work, I’ll start feeling anxious.’”
Although the inner struggle has always been there, Zhan Xuan has never stopped learning how to adjust and find balance within himself. Now, he can calmly accept his own conflicts and anxieties.
“I’m an optimistic pessimist and that’s not a contradiction,” he explained. “Ever since I was little, no matter what difficulties I faced, I could always find a way to see things positively, to get through them with a light heart. Of course, I have negative emotions too, but I’ve learned to regulate them and coexist with my anxiety.”
On August 31, 2025, Zhan Xuan released his self-composed and self-written single “I”.
“These past few years, I’ve actually been collecting ideas for music creation, and now I finally had the chance to make something out of them.” His phone’s notes app is filled with fragmented ideas, flashes of inspiration he’s jotted down. But this song didn’t come from that archive.
“I wrote the lyrics in about ten minutes. If it weren’t for the stress I’ve been under lately, I might’ve finished even faster. When I thought about the word ‘I,’ so many images came to mind. I closed my eyes, and everything I’ve experienced from childhood to now just appeared before me.”
A lonely soul, a faint glimmer of light, a persistent dream, a night bright as day, a flower blooming from a wound, every image in the song serves as an anchor of memory, and every lyric bears traces of his struggles and growth. He chose to turn “I” into a song, using music as a form of self-confession.
“I want everyone to see the real me, not the version interpreted by others. So I decided to interpret myself. I don’t wish to be changed, and I don’t expect to change anyone else. I just hope I can always remain myself, no matter how complicated the world becomes.”
Amid this noisy and restless journey, he is still striving to find a new anchor for himself.
Some time ago, Zhan Xuan had a few days to rest in Beijing, right during the city’s most beautiful autumn season. He couldn’t resist riding a shared bicycle through the streets.
“Do you know how uncomfortable it is to cycle while wearing a mask? In the end I just couldn’t take it anymore. I sort of ‘gave up’ and took it off. If I got photographed, then so be it. I can’t have no life at all!”
Riding or driving has always been Zhan Xuan’s way of expanding the radius of his life. “When I sit in a car, I feel safe. The car wraps around me, takes me anywhere I want to go, lets me experience any kind of life I wish to live.” He once drove alone into Tibet, traveling the G318 Highway, a route filled with both breathtaking scenery and danger.
“Standing among those magnificent mountains and rivers, talking to strangers I met along the way, made me truly realize how vast this world is, and how small my everyday life seems in comparison.”
Nowadays, it’s rare for Zhan Xuan to find time for such solo trips, but he still holds another dream outside of acting.
“Do you know about ‘14+7+2’?” he asked excitedly. “It’s considered the highest honor in the world of mountaineering and exploration, to summit all 14 of the Earth’s 8,000-meter peaks, the highest mountains on all seven continents, and to reach both the North and South Poles on foot and by skiing. So far, only two people in the world have achieved it. That’s my ultimate dream, to have the courage, stamina, energy, financial means, and knowledge to do it. It’s also one of the biggest motivations that keeps me working hard now.”
Zhan Xuan’s story is a journey that began with the faint glow of fireflies and now shines like a brilliant galaxy, a “road once traveled” filled with both noise and stillness. He is a wanderer caught between chaos and calm, a traveler learning to make peace with himself.
“I don’t think I’m a lucky person. I’m just someone who never gives up,” he says.
Like a flower blooming out of stone, he grows quietly yet tenaciously in his own unique way. Perhaps Zhan Xuan’s path mirrors that of many dream chasers, searching for belonging amid the journey, remembering where they came from even as they move forward.
Maybe one day, when the noise fades away, he’ll still be that same boy who loves driving, cooking, caring for his parents, and doting on his cats and dogs. He lives with disarming honesty, walking forward despite feeling unworthy, filling the hollows of his heart with hard work; anxious about the future, yet never losing his passion for acting; sensitive to the world’s harshness, yet building his own world with sincerity and kindness.
Today, Zhan Xuan places more of his focus on the work itself, studying scripts, preparing for music festivals, and striving to improve himself professionally. Life is a journey against the current. From the morning stars of summer nights to the peaks above the clouds, Zhan Xuan is always on the road.
He has always been and still is that traveler. His destination might be “giving his parents the best life,” or perhaps “achieving 14+7+2.” Or maybe there is no final shore at all. Whether sailing through waves, listening to rain on a lonely crossing, or setting his sails high toward the sky, the journey itself is his truest home.