My Second Year of University

I have been back in classes for a week now, and I have pretty much met this year's professional-course teachers.

Every evening, backpack on, I take an after-dinner walk on the school sports field. The early-autumn evening breeze feels especially cool, and the field is quiet. I walk along casually, my mind racing through all sorts of questions, with no one to disturb me and nothing to worry about. I love this kind of life.

The first-year freshmen have not yet registered. Ours is a medical junior-college; most students are on three-year programs, and the third-years have already gone to hospital internships. In the first week of term, only we second-years are left on campus. At night about three-quarters of the dorm rooms are dark, and the dining hall is not so crowded.

After a long summer vacation, these young classmates around me seem to have grown a little. Having spent a school year together and then been apart for nearly two months, everyone is very warm on meeting again—especially toward me, the elder.

I can feel everywhere that they are looking after me. By university tradition, second-years must do much to welcome the freshmen—clean their dormitories in advance, prepare the cabinets and beds. They will not let me do any heavy work. Two young men in my own dorm even took advantage of the bustle to carry in a new cabinet for me. They said, "Uncle, the cabinet originally assigned to you was too worn-out; let us get you a new one!"

Smiling, I told them, "If the younger students knew their new cabinet had been swapped out like this, they'd be cursing you behind your back"—all while savoring the happiness of being cared for. These kids truly treat me, their uncle, as one of their own. Everyone greets me warmly, and even the quietest girl in class calls out affectionately, "Uncle," when she sees me.

There are over a hundred people in the class, and quite a few whose names I cannot recall, but that does not affect their warmth toward me. Each time they greet me, I smile and respond politely. When I first arrived, some classmates would secretly photograph me out of curiosity and post it to their Moments or Douyin. Sometimes I told them I did not like being exposed, and the kids tactfully deleted it. After a year of familiarity, no one does this anymore.

This semester everyone seems in better spirits than last year. Perhaps because the professional courses make up a larger share, people are willing to attend them, so few skip class and few play on their phones in lectures. I have observed several times that most classmates look up and listen attentively, which comforts me.

I do not know what they think, but I value this year's study more than last. Just thinking that in another year I will leave school for a Western-medicine internship at the hospital makes me especially reluctant to go. Though our school is a junior college, my teachers' teaching is quite good. Several courses this year are taught by young teachers, basically all master's or PhD graduates, whose lectures are well structured. I listen carefully to every class and take meticulous notes, and every day I feel I have gained much.

Three years really is too short. Last year, when I first arrived, I had not yet adjusted to campus life and always wanted to finish early and go back to Beijing. This year, as soon as I arrived, I grew very fond of campus life. Once you enter the school gate, the world outside is sealed off; all the sundries come to a stop at once. The efficiency of studying and writing at school is high; my daily gains and output are more than twice what they are at home.

After a year of university, my mindset has shifted a little; as I have adjusted to campus life, I have come to love this student life. I cherish such time. People my age rarely have such a chance, and my own time studying at school will not be long either. When young, students always want to graduate early; now, past middle age, attending classes, I have become hooked.

If possible, I would like to take the college entrance exam once more to study acupuncture and tuina for three or five years—but that depends on whether my father's health is good enough for me to feel at ease continuing. And if I study acupuncture and tuina, I will again choose a school where I can come home every day, studying full-time but without leaving family life; that would be ideal.

By the end of this semester, we will have taken more than forty courses in total, over thirty of them medical professional courses. Add some more next semester, and over these two years we will basically have been exposed to most courses of the clinical-medicine major. Of course, to go deeper, one must listen online to those national-quality open courses or the very high-quality medical courses on Bilibili.

This semester we are studying preventive medicine, general practice, surgery, infectious diseases, pharmacology, diagnostics, medical imaging diagnosis, dermatology and venereology, and even a course on the fundamentals and appropriate techniques of TCM.

The clinical-medicine major has an especially large number of courses; its curriculum design aims at breadth and comprehensiveness. How deep one goes is up to individual ambition and self-discipline.

After listening to lectures I realized that I actually do not need to rush to finish my book. I can take my time, study a few more years, learn the various fields of medicine more comprehensively, and then finish my writing; that way I can write a higher-quality book.

Several teachers I met this semester are also interesting. The professional courses are taught almost entirely by people who previously practiced clinically. Our diagnostics teacher was formerly an ICU physician and speaks wittily in lecture; she describes being a doctor as having one foot in the hospital and the other in the courtroom—clearly a teacher with stories. Our surgery teacher was formerly a surgeon; unexpectedly, she is a great admirer of TCM and now and then introduces TCM treatment methods in class, speaking highly of TCM therapeutic methods. Our infectious-disease teacher was formerly a pediatrician and also often tells clinical stories.

I benefit from listening to them because many topics resonate with me. I wonder what they would think if they knew that this middle-aged student sitting in the front row had, like them, left the clinical front line to study full-time at school.

If I were ten years younger, I would most likely study five years of Western medicine at school and then five years of acupuncture and tuina. But I do not have that much time to spend now; I can only choose the short, efficient higher-vocational route.

Comprehensive learning is my requirement of myself. Without a broad horizon, one easily develops narrowness and prejudice and is not flexible enough in clinical work. I plan to learn broadly over these few years and, after graduation, continue specialized, deep research in the field I am good at, breaking through the wall between Chinese and Western medicine.

Diseases are not easy to treat at all, especially since my patient population is special: the great majority have tried every treatment without effect, and those are the hardest. The more medical knowledge I learn and the more tools I have at hand, the more people I may be able to help.

My second year of university holds basically no more surprises; life has formed new habits, and I follow them. I now basically never leave the campus; though small, the campus has everything—study, life, entertainment, exercise, and dining all without going out. The world beyond the gate can be shut out; inside the ivory tower there is not so much noise.

Every day I sleep early and rise early, day after day reading, memorizing words, attending lectures, taking notes, writing articles, running, playing ball, and replying in moderation to some old friends' consultations. This fills the schedule; there is not much leisure time.

Sometimes I think how wonderful it would be if the rest of my life could be like this—best if the school were not too far from home. But I also know this is a fantasy; no one can stay at school as a student forever. One can only cherish each present moment. Years after graduation, when I recall all this, I will surely miss it deeply, because all of it is beautiful enough.