The Journey behind the
Kitwork Engine.

The Dream and the Collapse

I did not arrive through a computer-science degree. My journey began with a curiosity for Blogger around 2015, and a stretch of military service that quietly shaped how I would write software ever after: extreme simplicity, self-reliance, and squeezing the most out of limited resources.

In 2019, in Đà Nẵng, I was in my early twenties and burning to build something that mattered. By chance I met two people who became friends — Parker from Korea and Lychee, a designer from China. Across three countries, half in broken English and half through translation apps, we built DIMODO, an app to help Vietnamese shoppers order products from South Korea.

Then 2020 arrived like a storm. The pandemic scattered us — Lychee went home to Wuhan, the team dissolved, and on the eighth of January I returned to my hometown with two empty hands. The company was gone; only exhaustion and silence remained. But the dream did not leave — it was simply waiting for me to be strong enough to carry it alone.

“It doesn't matter where you start, as long as your hands stay clean and your mind never stops reaching for technological sovereignty.”

Starting from Zero in Tam Kỳ

I went home to Tam Kỳ with nothing but an old laptop and my own two hands. By day I ran a small local delivery page — fifteen thousand đồng a trip, more than fifteen thousand orders under the heavy Central-Vietnam sun. Routing, queues and latency stopped being words in a textbook; I lived them on a motorbike. By night, I wrote code.

Affiliate marketing kept the lights on while I learned — the first commission was 14,000₫, about half a dollar, and it felt like proof the whole thing worked. Then I built Samdy.vn, a price-comparison engine in Go that reached Vietnam's Top 100 e-commerce sites — all of it running on a single 1-core VPS beside twenty other sites.

Then Google de-indexed it and the little server buckled under its own brief success. Watching it fall taught me the lesson the whole of Kitwork is built on: if you build your house on someone else's land, you can lose it overnight. Across five years and some eighty domains, that conviction hardened into a compass — own your code, depend on no one's platform.

Golang and Learning to Control

For years I had used frameworks without understanding the foundations beneath them. So I started over from the ground up — from string to []byte to runes, writing my own template engine, my own router, my own DNS. I chose Go for three honest reasons: speed, simplicity, and control.

I kept the web honest with plain JavaScript, too. Kit JS hydrates server-rendered HTML with no build step and no eval; KitModule turns whole systems into small pieces anyone can own. The principle under all of it never changed: understand technology before you depend on it.

Bytecode and Energy Computing

For nearly a year I lived inside compilers, runtimes and virtual machines. Bytecode stopped being a dry "intermediate representation" and became, to me, compiled thought — logic prepared so completely that the machine never has to ask again, only run.

I rebuilt a Go VM down to its assumptions. I killed map[string]interface{} in favour of O(1) static slot allocation, a pre-allocated stack, contexts recycled through sync.Pool, and a zero-copy bridge between host and VM. The result: 1,000,000 operations in 58ms under a strict Zero-GC constraint (0 B/op).

That is what I call Energy Computing — modelling a system as E = W × T × S and spending less by making fewer decisions, not faster ones. And once logic is bytecode, it can move: compiled, signed, and sent like water flowing between server, edge and client instead of frozen inside a binary.

One Runtime, Many Roles — and a Flower on the Keyboard

The modern cloud drowns in Redis, Kafka, Consul and Kubernetes — each brilliant alone, exhausting together. I wanted every part born from the same philosophy. In Kitwork Cluster, every node runs the same runtime and simply takes a role — Gateway, Coordinator, or Worker. When one falls, another assumes its duties. The system degrades, but it does not die. A strong system is not one that never fails; it is one that keeps working when failure inevitably comes.

And then there is the part no benchmark measures. "Go outside while it is still light." After the long nights inside the VM, I step away to see the sun, brew a cup of coffee, write a quiet acoustic melody. Logic may build machines, but emotion is what builds a civilization — so I keep a flower on the keyboard to remember why any of this is worth building.

“One Runtime. Many Roles. One Source of Truth.”