I’m himicos — a student exploring the vast world of programming, currently fascinated by large language models and the way they reshape what software can quietly understand. This is a working journal of projects, notes, and small obsessions.
Programming found me later than it found most. What began as a single curiosity about how machines come to understand us slowly turned into long evenings spent assembling full-stack applications, reading transformer papers I half-understood, and writing small notes to my future self.
I work across the stack — React, Vue, SpringBoot, Node — but I’m happiest where the interface meets the model: the soft seam between user, prompt, and inference. I care less about novelty than about inevitability; the feeling that an interaction could not have been any other way.
“The best software disappears into the gesture it’s for.”
Outside of the editor I keep a small archive of music, a longer one of half-finished essays, and a habit of writing things down in two languages — because some ideas only show up in one of them.
A full-stack internship platform connecting university students to partner companies — contributed end-to-end with Vue, SpringBoot, and a paired WeChat Mini Program for the candidate experience.
The challenge was less technical than editorial: dozens of roles in the institutional flow had to fit one calm interface. I worked across the matching engine and the data-visualisation layer so administrators could see — not just query — where students were stalling.
A small, deliberate shelf. Folk songs from 赵雷 — sincere, plainspoken, written in a register that has followed me through every season of learning. Listed in order of release. Albums & turntable — gifts from 硕硕, kept on the shelf where the light is best.
首张个人音乐专辑 — a debut, sincere and unhurried.
献给母亲的专辑— warm, devotional, written for his mother.
代表作「成都」收录于此 — the high-water mark.
回归初心，记录少年时代的梦想 — a return to the boyhood notebooks.
§ 09 — Correspondence
I’m happiest reading a slow, specific letter — about a paper you’re stuck on, a tool you’re building, a sentence you can’t get past. I will write back, eventually, in the same register.
Quiet collaborations welcome. Loud ones politely declined.