“Wisdom is not wisdom when it is derived from books alone.” I have always been captivated by books. Reading martial arts novels or war novels often makes me forget to eat. And it was books (and newspapers) that first gave me a peek into the real world. In the kaleidoscope of nonfiction readings, I was drawn to law. The first article I read documented a recent juvenile crime case. Shocked by the content, I suddenly realized the seriousness of youth crime.

Not long ago, we had to drive through a neighborhood called "urban village" in my hometown. The houses there were dilapidated, and the marketplace was next to the sewers. I saw a middle school student being pushed inside a police car by two officers. I couldn't believe my eyes, but my father said that the juvenile crime rate in such areas is very high, sometimes reaching 70 percent. Watching students in school uniforms being led into police cars made me determined to transform this crisis.

I continued to learn about the statistics and laws on juvenile delinquency in China through legal readings, newspapers, and news comprehensively. I no longer had the sense of fantasy given by fiction, but a series of real-life examples that prompted me to step into the world to make a difference. I began to realize that knowledge without action is wasted. By writing questionnaires and distributing them to five local high schools, I gathered information about the public's understanding of underage crime and legal education.

With the guidance and help of my father, I was given the opportunity to visit the juvenile detention center and interview a delinquent adolescent named Xiaolin. First, the officer working at the juvenile facility gave a detailed description of the causes and types of crime. I learned exactly how the family structure and the living environment can lead students to commit crimes. Then, to help me communicate more fluidly with the offender, the officer provided the norms of life in the prison and basic personal information about the offender, Xiaolin. I entered the interview room with a curious and apprehensive mind and saw an inch-haired Kobayashi sitting in front of a long table. He was dressed in a gray and yellow see-it-all prison uniform and no longer had the full face in the photo. An officer accompanied me in the corner of the room, and I gently sat down across from the boy.

"Where are your mom and dad?"

"Working out of Xi’an."

"Who takes care of you?"

"Grandparents."

He kept his head down and answered my questions briefly and quickly. When I asked, "If time was turned back, would you still join the group fight?" The conversation came to a screeching halt. Xiaolin lifted his head and looked at me for the first time. His cheeks registered the experience of mistakes, but those eyes revealed repentance and hidden youth. The air seemed to pause, and I saw the innocence of childhood entwined with crime. He recounted his childhood experiences and how he was forced to join the school triad. Each of his words conveyed remorse for the past and a desire to return to school.

The look in Xiaolin’s eyes was worth more than a thousand words, and in that moment, I knew I had to commit myself to this cause. I created a nonprofit platform with the hope of helping more children have a healthy youth. Teenagers who face problems as little as altercation or as big as bullies can share their personal thoughts. They can choose to post publicly or privately and work with high schoolers or professional consultants. Games are provided to help children better understand crime prevention and emotion management.

I am grateful to the nonfiction that introduced me to these real-world problems. But it was when I stepped into firsthand experience of the tragedy that I truly understood the stakes. Books teach me constantly, and I insist on turning their wisdom into actions and contributions to society.