My Medical Philosophy: About This Book and My Writing Plan

Some readers, having seen me publish my book manuscript, have asked to buy a paper copy. I am very sorry: there is no paper edition yet, and the book is not finished. Even if I finish it in the next few years, I will not publish it immediately. I want to spend more time continually revising it, refining my medical philosophy as much as possible before considering publication.

Why am I in no hurry to publish? In my early twenties I worked in publishing for a while, wrote and published books, and know the industry well. The vast majority of publications become wastepaper within a year or two of launch; unsold books sit in warehouses and are eventually pulped. These quickly assembled works are worthless in themselves. Many merely cater to a momentary market demand and are forgotten once the fad passes.

Many books I see in libraries—even by well-known authors—are riddled with errors, cannot write a coherent sentence, and are a chore to read. To be blunt, they are far worse than what I write.

They publish perhaps to get professional titles. Those books gradually gather dust on shelves; no one wants to waste a glance. They end up in small libraries like our school's, probably donated free or sold at a discount, used merely to fill shelves and look impressive.

I do not want my own book to end up like that. If a published book becomes such literary garbage, wasting paper and labor, what is the point? To polish my own image? I have no need for that vanity. I have no need to earn a professional title; I dislike institutional life and will never join it, so I feel no pressure to publish papers or monographs for promotion. I prefer to write slowly in a spirit of "delighting in thoughtful exploration," revising and refining again and again until I myself am satisfied.

A truly valuable book takes much time and care to shape. It would not matter if my book is published before or after I die. Not publishing does not affect my present writing; I want to use these few years of break time to build the framework of my medical philosophy.

The idea of writing this book arose during a pathology class last semester, when the teacher was lecturing on oncology—my most familiar subject. A thought flashed through my mind: I wanted to write a medical book that does not simplify things. I settled on a title and subtitle: "My Medical Philosophy—Building an Evidence-Based Diagnostic and Therapeutic System Under Holism to Improve Clinical Outcomes in Refractory Disease."

For years I have been drawn to treating refractory disease, and the patients who come to me generally have just that: cancer, intractable stroke sequelae, and various strange conditions that can or cannot be diagnosed. Most have already been through multiple rounds of treatment, having seen top experts in every field. Many arrive at my door as if at the last stop of their lives, and I have to rack my brains to relieve their suffering and extend their years.

I owe them thanks. Their trust gave me the chance for clinical practice. With practice, I could test the reliability of the medical knowledge I had learned and work out my own experience. Only with real experience can one distill systematic theory.

I believe many doctors have practiced—or are practicing—the theories I have summarized. They simply lack the ability to distill and write. I happen to have those abilities, so let me do this work.

I also want to spread my medical philosophy, influencing more doctors and patients. In our age, with some technical skill, dissemination is not hard. Under the impact of the internet and AI, traditional publishing is gasping for breath; fewer people read paper books, and print media's reach is weaker than ever.

I was among the earliest cohort to master computing and networking. I can build my own websites and self-media, and can use technical means to promote them—even reaching the top 1% in this field. I will certainly make full use of this combined ability to promote my ideas without reserve.

The reason is simple: since adolescence I have wanted to change the world. Though, older now, I know that is unrealistic, I still hope to work toward moving the world in the direction I wish to see. Even if my efforts produce only a faint ripple, my life will not have been lived in vain.

Through 11 years of effort, my Chinese website (www.zhouzhiyuan.com) now draws 20,000–40,000 visitors a day. Of the countless personal sites worldwide, only about 1% reach that level. Excluding search engines and AI bots, there remains a substantial real daily readership.

In summer 2026, I also conceived the idea of multilingual sites and launched my international site (www.medicalresearch.com.cn), planning to flesh out its content over time. I hope that within the next 5–10 years, the other-language sites will also draw tens of thousands of daily visitors.

The prerequisite for academic debate is that our voice be heard. However precious an idea locked away in a famous mountain, it has no practical meaning. Only medical ideas that others can see can one day become clinical techniques that many recognize and apply. My greatest wish is that the insights from my research be spread, saving more lives.

My cousin says I have always done worldly things with an otherworldly mind. His words hit the nail on the head; he truly is my brother and confidant for life. He is only a month younger than I. We studied together from kindergarten through the first year of high school, so he is one of the people who knows me best.

I truly do not care for the things the world chases, but I am never decadent or passive. In my own way I keep influencing those I can reach and reshaping society. I love a life of struggle to the end, not one of idle drifting. If the world changes a little because of me, I shall be content.

Three years ago, a traffic accident drew me into a civil lawsuit as the defendant. Many lawyer, judge, and traffic-police friends told me I had no hope of winning and urged me to settle and pay.

Only one lawyer friend from my hometown (who had also sought me out for treatment of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) urged me to fight on. He felt the existing trial rules were unfair and had failed in their duty to protect the vulnerable. He hoped I would do something to change that. He told me: outmoded rules must be broken by someone; only by pushing out the old can the new emerge. If you do not stand up to break them, no one else will.

Perhaps by luck, or perhaps because my logical reasoning is decent, I won the case in the first trial—to many people's surprise. The opposing side appealed for a retrial to a higher court, and I won again. Afterward, the corresponding trial rules in Beijing changed as well.

This was my first lawsuit (I hope it will be my only one, since I truly dislike disputes with anyone). I faced off against the legal team of a large insurance conglomerate. Under Beijing's previous trial rules, the court should have ruled against me, so I had no advantage at all. Although I am not a lawyer, I refuted the other side with logic so airtight that even the judge's law clerk marveled—proof that being good at mathematics is useful in real life.

I myself was not sure how much impact this action would have. This summer, when a traffic-police friend and I chatted about it, I said its influence was limited. He told me I was underestimating the value of my effort. Nationwide aside, Beijing sees thousands of traffic accidents every day, hundreds of them similar to mine; the trial rules for all those cases will change because of that one case of mine.

That number surprised me, and I was heartened. It means a sizable vulnerable group will henceforth be protected. Our society should never be as savage as a jungle.

This also emboldened me about exerting some influence in medicine. If my various efforts go well, in 10 years the number of people around the world visiting my site and encountering my medical views each day should exceed 100,000. Among 100,000 people, some will be interested in my medical philosophy and willing to spend time considering whether I make sense.

This book may be completed within a year or two, but its revision will take at least 10 years. During those 10 years, I can also exert some influence within a certain scope and contribute to changing aspects of medical care I find unsatisfactory. For me, that is the best reward.

Years ago I signed organ and body donation agreements. I believe the best fate for this mortal body is to be offered to society and put to full use. Any medical research I do is part of my spiritual legacy; if the flesh is not worth clinging to, why should the spirit be hoarded? Its best end is not to follow me into the grave but to be given to society. In the end, whether it is criticized or adapted, it is better than wasting it.