Editor’s Note:

When Chinese President Xi Jinping urged the nation to pursue the “Chinese Dream,” he triggered a public dialogue about people’s expectations and how they are fulfilled. Shanghai Daily continues its dream series, this week from the perspective of those born in the 1990s.

People born in the 1990s landed in a golden age for dreaming. They have known nothing but a prospering China that has surrounded them with a dazzling array of consumer goods, family cars, buzzing entertainment venues, mobile communications and holidays to exotic destinations never before possible.

They are still young enough to be idealistic in their hopes for the future but old enough to perceive that life may not be an endless bed of roses.

They are a highly diversified group, self-focused and defying stereotypes. Some shamelessly pursue pleasure and money; others commit themselves to serious achievement in education, sports and arts.

Whatever their dreams, the choices that confront them are the most expansive and complex ever seen in modern China.

While the government may define the “Chinese Dream” as the pursuit of economic prosperity, national rejuvenation and public well-being, the 1990s generation prefers to define it in more personal terms.

Their dreams focus on travel, a good university education, a well-paying job or perhaps even founding their own companies. They want to enjoy life.

“Young people today have many more resources than we had,” says Zheng Fangxian, born in the 1960s and now president of the High School Affiliated to Fudan University.

“The world that they want to explore is just one click away, and going abroad to see it in person is no longer a remote dream for many young Chinese students,” he adds.

Most people born in the 1990s come from single-child families that tend to nurture a self-centered attitude toward life.

They are the decade of rapid changes. They are often dubbed the Global Generation, the Me Generation and the Net Generation.

Despite their young ages, this generation is marked by early achievers and their success is magnified by the Internet.

Their “heroes” are the likes of pop singer Justin Bieber, 19, or actresses Emma Watson and Kristen Stewart, both fashion setters at the age of 23.

In China, too, this generation is making its mark. Swimmer Ye Shiwen, only 17, has already won a handful of gold medals in international competition.

She set the world record in the 400-meter event and the Olympic record in the 200-meter.

Sun Weiwei and Dong Yuyang, both 18, became hits online last month due to an extraordinary talent in chemistry and their revelation that love and science aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sun, runner-up in this year’s International Chemistry Olympiad, said on her blog that the best thing about the competition was not her ranking but the chance to stand “shoulder-to-shoulder” with Dong, who won the top award.

The pair were soon discovered to be lovers, which enhanced the online buzz because the Chinese traditionally believe that “puppy love” is a hindrance to success.

Not all high-profile young adults have been so endearing.

The Red Cross Society of China, the nation’s biggest charity, is still reeling from the online antics of Guo Meimei, 22, who stirred a national outrage in 2011 by flouting her wealth on the Internet, accompanied by the claim that she was a manager for the Red Cross. Pictures on her blog showed her driving a Maserati and owning a large collection of designer handbags.

The organization denied any connection with Guo, who later admitted the claim was a ruse.

But the scandal was kept alive by allegations that Guo’s high-flying lifestyle was being financed by embezzled funds from her lover, who was on the board of an organization that runs campaigns for the Red Cross.

There was also the highly publicized case of Li Tianyi, 17, son of well-known singer Li Shuangjiang, who is famous for patriotic songs. Betraying his father’s prestigious image, Li was involved in a gang rape case that triggered a debate on the issue of “privileged children.”

Searching online for people born in the 1990s, one quickly discovers many pictures of girls posing half naked — the expression of a provocative Me Generation and an online-savvy Net Generation.

But it would be wrong to judge the whole generation by the high, sometimes scandalous profiles of a few.

He Mengyao, 17, a student at Shanghai No. 3 Girls High School, is a case in point. She says just she can’t understand most publicity peers.

“They are individual cases, and it is unfair to stereotype all of us like that,” He says. Her most urgent dream is to enter an elite university next year and forge a career that will help make the world a cleaner and greener place one day.

Zhang Yan, 19, a native of Chongqing, fulfilled one dream last year by scoring very high in the national college entrance examination and coming to Shanghai to attend Fudan University. She has moved on to a new dream — trying everything that interests her in order to discover her true potential.

Ke Siyue, soon to turn 22, is focused on running her own media company. In her last year at Donghua University, she currently is head of a small group of people involved in making movie shorts.

Zhou Bowen, 23, has already taken the plunge by creating his own information technology company. Its aim is to help college students find internships.

The people of the 1990s generation describe themselves in a variety of terms: rational, imaginative, self-centered, charitable, optimistic and practical.

Some dreams elevate people beyond their daily lives. Jin Wan, 21, is making a name for herself in the art world though she is wheelchair-bound.

Sooner or later, consciously or unconsciously, people born in the 1990s will have to come to grips with the world of adulthood, responsibility and possibly lowered expectations. But the dreams of their today will shape the China of tomorrow.

Ke Siyue, 22

“I have the dream of running a company that can instill the value of culture into people and make all our lives more artistic.”

Ke Siyue, soon to turn 22, is already general manager of a media company she established to produce short movies for corporate and individual clients.

All of her employees are older than her. “I am a workaholic,” says Ke, who is also a junior at Donghua University. “I have the dream of running a company that can instill the value of culture into people and make all our lives more artistic.”

Her company, Shanghai INTO Cultural Media Co Ltd, was officially established a year ago, but the idea originally took shape in 2010, when Ke and a few classmates shot a movie as a school assignment. She was hooked.

“There is demand for innovative ways of communicating, and our short movies can capture the culture of a company or an individual,” Ke says.

At first, the idea was mostly for fun, an extension of how Ke viewed university life. As a freshman, she joined more than 20 campus clubs, she had her own band, she learned to play drum and she even dabbled in mixology.

It was the time to dream, and Ke’s dreams knew no bounds. In her sophomore year, Ke started to get more serious. She joined the school’s Youth League, an organization committed to nurturing future leaders.

It was also the year that Ke began to think of commercializing her short movies as products. She entered her movies in a young business leaders’ competition organized by the Shanghai Technology Entrepreneurship Foundation for Graduates. The youngest of 80 participants, Ke won the award for the best team.

She quit her work at the Youth League, where she had already attained the top post that a student could reach, and registered INTO as a company last September.

“I mean to do business and do it well,” Ke says. “Since my childhood, I have had a very strong sense of responsibility. My current ambition is to provide good jobs for my staff, and, more than that, I want to help them realize their dreams.”

Ke is well on the way toward her dreams. Her company has signed a few corporate clients, and often does films for newlyweds. INTO is making a profit.

Ke employs about 10 people, most of them born in the 1980s.

Her partner, who is 10 years older than her, keeps an eye on the business while she is attending classes.

“At first, it felt strange to be directing people who were older than me,” Ke says, “but they respect me and we share the same dream, so the business works very cooperatively.”

Ke is practical. To her, money is important. One episode in her college life, though trivial, is etched in her mind. One morning, she casually asked a street vendor making her a breakfast pancake how much he earned. His answer shocked her.

The vendor said he and his wife could make at least 30,000 yuan (US$4,838) a month.

That was in sharp contrast to the average 3,000 yuan a month a college graduate could earn. The vendor’s reply trigger Ke’s decision to start her own business.

Money aside, Ke remains very idealistic. She says she still believes in the value of higher education and wants to lead an artistic life.

Facing graduation next year, Ke won’t be among the classmates hitting the pavement to look for job, even though she has had some good offers. She says her focus will be on making INTO a business success.

Wu Jiani, 16

“Some foreigners are still obsessed with outdated ideas about our country and our people. I hope to change that bias.”

For Wu Jiani, 16, dreams are necessities of life. She says they provide the reasons for living.

Her practical dream is to learn more foreign languages so that she can someday raise foreign understanding of China.

“Some foreigners are still obsessed with outdated ideas about our country and our people,” Wu says. “I hope to change that bias.”

But being a young woman with a romantic bent, Wu also harbors a dream to visit Paris one day.

She has been accepted for enrollment in a vocational school, where she plans to train as an air hostess. That’s one way to make her travel dreams come true.

Unlike some of her generation who are considered self-centered, Wu says she also wants to do things in her life to care for the needy.