Teacher Li: From Boxing Ring to Belarusian Classroom

How a Chinese athlete became a language instructor in Minsk—and found a second home far from Tianjin.

At first glance, Li Weibin seems like any other young professional in Minsk: well-dressed, soft-spoken, and focused on his students. But behind the calm demeanor is a story of grit, reinvention, and cultural exchange. Once a rising star in Chinese boxing, Li now teaches Mandarin at the Academy of Public Administration under the President of the Republic of Belarus.

From Punches to Pronouns

Born in Tianjin, a bustling port city of 13 million, Li discovered Chinese boxing at the age of 12. His talent was undeniable—he began winning competitions and soon faced a choice: pursue academics or go all-in on sports. He chose the latter, enrolling in a specialized sports school in Dalian, 800 kilometers from home.

But even athletes in China must pass the grueling national exams to enter university. Li realized that unless he made it into elite institutions like Peking or Tsinghua University, his diploma wouldn’t guarantee a future. So he looked abroad—and Belarus became his unexpected destination.

A New Life in Minsk

Li arrived in Belarus knowing just one Russian word: “Katyusha,” the name of a famous Soviet song. Navigating bureaucracy and language barriers, he spent a year in a preparatory program learning Russian before enrolling at the Belarusian State University of Physical Culture to study boxing coaching.

Then came a turning point: an injury forced him to abandon his sports career. Instead of returning home, Li pivoted. He earned a master’s degree in international management at Belarusian State University and began working with the Chinese Embassy, organizing cultural events and educational programs. Eventually, he was invited to teach Mandarin at the Academy of Public Administration.

Teaching with Heart

Today, Li teaches five groups of students. Their motivations vary—some dream of working in the China-Belarus industrial park “Great Stone,” others are fascinated by Chinese cinema or hope to live in China. Li admits Mandarin is a challenge: tones, characters, and grammar can be daunting. Not all students stick with it, but he tries to keep them inspired.

“I always tell them: go to China at least once,” he says. “It will change how you see the world.”

Celebrating Traditions Abroad

Li celebrates Chinese New Year in Belarus, though he notes that the Western New Year isn’t considered “real” in China. The true celebration is the Spring Festival, which falls in February and lasts up to 12 days. Families gather around a festive table, decorate homes in red (a symbol of happiness), and always serve fish—a word that also means “wealth” in Chinese.

“When you meet someone for the first time in the new year,” Li explains, “you say: ‘May you be rich.’”

Between Two Worlds

Li’s name means “to protect with knowledge and strength.” He once considered adopting a Belarusian name like “Lenya” to blend in, but ultimately stayed true to his roots. He’s grown fond of Belarusian cuisine—draniki, borscht, and potatoes—and cooks both Chinese and Belarusian dishes at home.

At 27, his parents are eager for him to settle down—even with a Belarusian woman, which is rare for older Chinese generations. Li, however, hopes to marry a Chinese woman someday, perhaps out of nostalgia for home.

Looking Ahead

Li feels at ease in Belarus. He’s found purpose in teaching and sees his students as bridges between cultures. But one day, he hopes to return to China, confident that his degrees and fluency in Russian will open doors.

“I’ve learned that life doesn’t always follow the plan,” he says. “But if you stay curious and open, it can take you somewhere better than you imagined.”