From Qingdao North Station to the Next Departure
When I First Arrived in Qingdao
The train stopped at Qingdao North Station, and I nervously boarded the bus to campus. The scenery moved backward outside the window while my head filled with very specific questions:
- Would the food in the canteen be any good?
- What would my roommates be like?
- How should I spend the next four years?
At the time, four years seemed long—long enough to meet many people, try many things, and slowly understand what I wanted.
Looking back, that early anxiety has long since faded, while the four years passed far more quickly than I expected. The pandemic compressed campus life. Before I had learned every classmate's name or said goodbye to each teacher, graduation was already in front of me.
Regret Has No Standard Answer
If I could do it again, how would I spend those years?
It is an easy question to ask at graduation. I can list plenty of regrets: I should have introduced myself to more people, joined more activities, and spent less time hesitating.
But another version of me would not necessarily have lived a more complete life. Different choices would simply produce a different set of experiences and regrets.
Those four years were still worthwhile. I met teachers who were willing to help me and friends with whom I could talk, work, and waste time. They did not resolve the uncertainty of youth for me, but at many moments they lit a small stretch of the road.
There is no answer to “what if I could do it again?” The only answer is in the days I have already lived.
Realizing It Was Time to Say Goodbye
Yesterday, several friends and I brought flowers to two teachers who had helped me.
We did not say much on the way. We all knew that after graduation we would move to different cities and have fewer chances to meet. The people and places that had felt ordinary for years would soon become people and places we had to make a special journey to see.
The strangest part of saying goodbye is that there is no single moment when it happens. Submitting a thesis, taking graduation photos, and leaving the lab each feel like an ordinary day. Only when those ordinary things stop happening do you realize that a period of life has ended.
The Next Departure
Once again, I am standing in front of the unknown, preparing to move to a country I do not know.
The uncertainty resembles what I felt four years ago, but I no longer want every answer in advance. I am beginning to understand that many things become clear only through action: start walking, then adjust direction with the information in front of you.
University did not make me certain. It taught me a little more about how to live with uncertainty when it returns.
A Few Notes to Myself
Graduation invites people to summarize what they have learned. These are the only things I genuinely want to keep:
- Try the things you care about sooner. Being young does not mean ignoring consequences, but it often gives you more room to recover from mistakes.
- The future cannot be planned all at once. Begin with what you can finish now.
- Attention needs practice, and it also needs active protection.
- Do not imagine everyone else as impossibly capable. Many things are learned while doing them.
I wrote this article in the lab, and it is probably the last blog post I will finish at this university.
The road that began at Qingdao North Station ends here for now. When the next departure comes, I will still have many questions. I am simply less eager to answer them all at once.