However Beautiful the Outside World, It Cannot Outshine the Starry Sky Within My Heart

After two and a half months at school, I live a three-point-one-line life between classroom, cafeteria and dormitory. This afternoon the school organized a fire drill. To escape such a tedious event, I slipped out of the campus and wandered around for the afternoon. I visited the public library near the school (only 1.5 km away) and, in the evening, grabbed a 16-yuan Wallace's fast-food meal on the way back.

After eating I walked back to school; along the way I saw the everyday life of this city. The small shops by the road are not very different from those in my county town; people make a living in all sorts of ways. WeChat pushed me a number of local scenery videos; while waiting for my meal I idly scrolled through them, but felt no desire to go and see them.

A middle-aged man's life is as plain as plain water. I do not need much novelty; I only need a small corner where I can lose myself undisturbed in my own world. That is enough. However beautiful the scenery outside, it cannot outshine the starry sky deep within my heart.

Since I came to school, old friends often push all sorts of current-affairs news to me. At first I would open and read them. Gradually I had no time to open them and rarely replied to such messages. Our courses are too tight; to master the professional content I need to read quite a lot of outside literature and watch teaching videos, leaving little time for anything else. Slowly, old friends stopped sharing social hot topics with me.

Outside the gate and inside the gate are truly two worlds. The world outside is complex and restless; the theme of life on campus is only study. When I went home last time, my wife teased me: at your age you could be living the leisurely life of drinking tea and chatting with your peers, but you chose the hard life of a student; this is asking for trouble.

I actually like this life very much. If I could live like this in Beijing, not far from my family, I would even spend the rest of my life this way. The only regret now is not being reunited with my family every day. On weekends at home I especially treasure time with them and always hope my child and wife will spend more time with me. Although I seem cheerful and lively, I am not a social person; what I love most is my family.

Today's universities basically use facial recognition at the gate, so random outsiders cannot enter. Once inside, one can clearly feel that the campus is still a relatively pure world.

When I first arrived, I felt some discomfort and feared studying at this age among young people. But gradually I fully adapted to campus life. Classmates call me the "old urchin"; they find me humorous and feel there is no generation gap between us and enjoy joking with me in all sorts of ways. After two months of exploration I found my own learning methods, and study has gradually become smooth.

I may now be one of the better students in my class; if we speak of deep learning, I may be first in the whole school. Other classmates do well just to grind through the textbooks; I obviously cannot be satisfied with what the school teaches—it is all too superficial for me. Among the young people around me, those who love learning and can self-discipline are rare indeed. At their age I was already a model of self-discipline; now, nearing fifty, I am even less likely to waste time as they do.

Because older students are rare, at first people kept asking about my background and striking up conversations. Lately I have kept away from crowds, spending most of my time in my own classroom, digesting the outside literature and e-books I have bought, with little contact with the outside world. Now almost no one bothers me.

In my Kindle app and WeChat Reading app there are still thousands of medical e-books I have bought one by one over the past twenty years. These e-books are of high quality—after all, I paid for them; both content and typography are excellent. During my time at school I can conveniently use them to supplement the textbooks. The counselor gave me a key to a classroom, so I can go there whenever I like to do what I enjoy.

Gradually I have returned to much the same state as when I was in Beijing—hidden in the vast crowd, finding joy in reading and writing. If I could spend my whole life this way, how wonderful that would be!

A psychological test I took once showed that my best-suited job was researcher; I may indeed be one of the best candidates for research work. For others, undivided attention is difficult, but for me it is my favorite state. When I am immersed in reading and writing, my world contains only me; I would not want anyone to intrude at such moments and break my peace.

I imagine the second half of my life will be that of a Western-style gentleman scientist—a person who does not have to bow to make a living or depend on others for research funding, yet is devoted to science. Darwin was one such figure: his family could support him in pure scientific research, so he spent most of his life immersed in the joys of independent research, free from being ordered about.

I have had sound business training and a sharp business mind; the skills I invested heavily in when young are enough to keep me fed and clothed whatever I do. My desires for material life are minimal—enough food to fill the stomach and enough clothing to cover and keep me warm; I ask for no more. And I love researching every question in life science. So for me, being a gentleman scientist in medicine may be my best calling.

I have already planned my future: after graduating from this school with a medical degree, I will spend the rest of my life immersed in medical research and writing, sitting for decades on the cold bench of the National Library, only for my own enjoyment, without caring about anyone else's opinions. However the colorful outside world seethes and surges, it has little to do with me; my heart is like an ancient well, unmoved by waves.