Chenxi—pronounced softly like “chen-shee,” a silvery whisper at first light—drifts into the world from Mandarin, where its characters paint the moment the eastern sky blushes with dawn, and in that delicate crack between night and day one senses the promise of untold stories; she is, in essence, morning’s muse. Picture, if you will, a sun-lit piazza in Florence: café steam curls upward while ancient bells toll, and the name glides through the air like a swan skimming the Arno, carrying with it the same quiet exhilaration that hushes a city before its first espresso. Parents in the United States, though still a select ensemble—barely a handful each year—have begun to savor Chenxi’s lyrical flavor, as if they’ve discovered a rare vintage tucked away in a countryside cantina and now raise their glasses to new beginnings. Light and lilting, the name gathers rays of hope, inviting every little girl who wears it to step onto life’s stage as the herald of her own sunrise, smiling at the sheer possibility shimmering just beyond the horizon.