At the School of Advanced Materials, Peking University Shenzhen Graduate School, we met Doris and Jia Hui from Malaysia. They crossed thousands of miles to find the intersection of scientific research and their ideals, and began their own chapter of the Nanyan story.
I. The Beginning: Academic Pursuits Across the Seas
1. From “Doctor Dream” to R&D: Choosing to Protect More People
In high school, Doris was determined to become a doctor. To her, wearing a white coat and standing at an operating table was the most direct and warmest way to save lives. “Back then I thought that healing patients with my own hands would be the most fulfilling thing in the world.” Her eyes still light up at the memory.
But as she grew older, she began to think differently: a doctor treats one patient at a time, but what if she could develop a new medical device that could help thousands from the source? That idea changed her life path. She switched her undergraduate major to biomedical engineering, dedicating herself to the development of medicine and medical devices, and brought that dream all the way to Nanyan Garden.
Doris hopes to create more precise and advanced equipment to make disease treatment more efficient. She also dreams of designing smarter, more portable devices so that people in remote areas can get timely diagnosis and care. For her, this path is not an abandonment of her original aspiration to heal—it is simply a different way to achieve it: from saving lives one by one on the operating table to creating hope for countless people in the lab.
“I want to provide solutions at the root level,” Doris says earnestly. “I hope that the new devices I help develop can reach across distances and time to help lives I may never touch with my own hands.” From the operating room to the laboratory, the role has changed, but the promise to protect life remains.
2. From Mechanical Engineering to New Materials: An Unstoppable Curiosity
Jia Hui’s curiosity about the world seems innate. His father recalls an interesting detail from when Jia Hui was four or five years old: his father often took him to the cinema, but Jia Hui was never focused on the movie plot.
“My father later joked that while other kids watched the film, I was twisting my head to look at the projector at the back,” Jia Hui recalls. He was fascinated by the shifting beams of light, and would even stare at the tiny indicator lights on seat numbers. To him, “how it works” was always more intriguing than “what’s playing.” That desire to take things apart and understand the logic behind them planted the seeds of science in his young mind.
With this persistent drive, Jia Hui was admitted to the University of Malaya to study mechanical engineering, learning the principles of machine operation. But as he progressed, he was not satisfied with just knowing how to “apply” existing materials—he yearned to understand their microscopic nature.
At a critical moment as he graduated and pondered his future, his mentor opened the door to a higher academic hall: he recommended Jia Hui to further his studies at Peking University Shenzhen Graduate School. “When my mentor mentioned PKU, I didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity,” Jia Hui says. From Kuala Lumpur to Shenzhen, it was not only a geographical leap of thousands of kilometers but also a qualitative shift in his pursuit of knowledge.
At PKU’s world‑class academic platform, Jia Hui’s perspective zoomed from macroscopic mechanical structures down to the atomic world. He no longer simply studies “how machines work”—he delves into the nanometer scale, exploring how to “program” new materials at the source through ingenious design.
II. Enlightenment: Clash of Ideas at Nanyan
Doris: A Class Filled with Unspoken Understanding
In her first professional class at Nanyan Garden, Doris encountered a small “challenge.” When the Chinese term“界面相容性”(interfacial compatibility) appeared on the screen, she frowned slightly, quickly searching for the corresponding English concept in her mind. That subconscious pause was noticed by the lecturer at the podium.
Without making a deliberate stop, the lecturer naturally continued: “…this ‘本征态’ (eigenstate)—also known as ‘eigenstates’ in quantum mechanics, a crucial concept…” As he spoke, he turned to the whiteboard and casually wrote down the English term in the corner.
At almost the same moment, a Chinese classmate next to Doris quietly slid her notebook closer and gently tapped her pen tip on the English notes she had already written.
Doris felt a wave of warmth. The small, language‑induced awkwardness that occasionally arises in a foreign classroom instantly melted away in this wordless, understanding kindness.
“It felt like just as I was groping in the dark, someone gently lit a lamp for me,” Doris recalls. “They showed me the true international spirit of Nanyan Garden—not just multilingualism, but that deep‑seated thoughtfulness and inclusiveness.” This experience made her fall in love with this academic community, rich in human warmth, while mastering her professional knowledge.
Jia Hui: Awakening–Seeking Truth Beyond Definitions
In a class at Peking University, Jia Hui was given a seemingly routine task: present the seven base units of the International System of Units (SI).
For him, meters, seconds, and kilograms are the most basic language in research. He prepared to quickly state definitions that were already familiar to him. “Meters, seconds, kilograms…these units surround us like air every day,” Jia Hui thought. This was merely common knowledge in the scientific community—he could just state the definitions step by step.
However, when he talked about the origin of the “meter,” the professor interrupted him with a series of sharp, challenging questions:
“Why do we use the ‘meter’ as the standard for length? How is it defined?” The professor’s eyes were piercing, and his words quickly pointed deeper into history. “In 1790, the ‘meter’ was defined as one ten‑millionth of the distance from the North Pole to the equator along the meridian passing through Paris. Now, here’s the question: how would you measure that distance from the North Pole to the equator? How do you think they did it in that era?”
Before Jia Hui could recover from the engineering difficulty of such a geographic span, the professor delivered the final challenge: “If you were asked to make a ‘standard ruler,’ how would you do it? What material would you choose? Why?”
This cascade of questions about precision, history, geography, and material properties left Jia Hui deep in thought. He realized that although he used these units every day for calculations, he had never considered the rigorous measurement process behind the “ruler,” let alone the price paid by earlier generations to find a “standard substance” unaffected by environmental changes.
This “blind spot” in the classroom became an awakening moment for Jia Hui’s scientific thinking. He began to see that the familiar meter, second, and kilogram are not objective truths that exist naturally, but a set of carefully justified, universally accepted “rules of the game.” True innovation often emerges from examining and challenging these most fundamental rules.
“From then on, ‘solving problems’ took on a deeper meaning for me,” Jia Hui concludes. This critical, root‑level thinking deeply influenced his subsequent research. Facing complex experimental parameters in the lab, he no longer simply accepts ready‑made “standards” but dares to question the premises themselves. That courage to pursue the origin of the “measuring stick” is his most important academic gain from PKU.
III. Life: The Warm Undertones of Nanyan
Beyond intense research and study, Doris and Jia Hui have found a rich and colorful extracurricular life at Nanyan.
Doris: Reuniting with Memories of Home Through Dance
In the dance studio of the art troupe, when Doris moves gracefully, she always feels a familiar sense of security—a feeling rooted in her faraway Malaysian home.
“My mother is a dance enthusiast,” Doris shares with a smile. “Ever since I was little, I often followed her in learning Chinese dance.” Those afternoons filled with laughter and joy planted in Doris’s heart an early attachment to Chinese culture and dance.
Coming to PKU and joining the art troupe felt like a long‑awaited “homecoming.” When the familiar melodies play in the dance studio, she feels a wonderful connection—as if crossing geographical barriers to reunite with the cultural source shared with her mother.
“But it’s here that I truly understood the ‘code’ behind the dance,” Doris says. Under the guidance of professional teachers, movements she previously imitated by feeling—like “cloud hands” and “round‑step walking”—now carry deep cultural meaning. “The teacher tells us that this movement is inspired by Dunhuang murals, and that expression should reflect the parting sorrow in Tang poetry. It feels like I’m not just dancing, but reading a flowing, living history.”
Now, whenever she dances in costume, her heart swells not only with artistic enjoyment but also with deep emotion. “I think of my mother, and the light in her eyes when she taught me to dance. Now, it feels like I can, for her and for myself, get closer to the roots of this beauty.”
Jia Hui: Diplomacy Through an Eraser–PKU International Culture Festival
At the Malaysian booth of the PKU International Culture Festival, Jia Hui enthusiastically introduces a unique kind of “contest” to a crowd of curious friends. Besides promoting his home country’s delicacies, he especially wants to share the most treasured childhood joy of Malaysian students.
He proposes a special interactive session at the booth: the once‑popular “eraser flipping game” on Malaysian campuses.
“This was our favorite game during recess when we were kids,” Jia Hui explains as he demonstrates. “The rules are very simple: use your finger to press and flick your eraser so that it lands on top of your opponent’s—that’s a win.”
This easy‑to‑learn but hard‑to‑master little game instantly becomes the booth’s crowd‑pleaser. Watching friends from around the world lean over the table, fully focused on the perfect “flip,” Jia Hui feels an inexplicable warmth. At that moment, the small eraser is no longer just a stationery item—it becomes a bridge across language barriers, vividly bringing Malaysian campus culture to Chinese and international friends alike.
That day was also the first time Jia Hui wore traditional Malay attire (the Baju Melayu) and the dignified Songkok cap at a formal event. Standing on PKU’s inclusive and multicultural stage, he feels a heartfelt pride.
“I am very grateful to PKU for giving me this platform to showcase my hometown culture,” Jia Hui reflects. “The process of wearing traditional dress and introducing our childhood games deepened my own cultural identity. This is not just about sharing experiences—it is about building warm, cross‑border friendships right here at the Yan Yuan.”
IV. Mission: The Shared Wish to Return Home After Studies
For the future, Doris and Jia Hui have clear plans. They hope to learn the most cutting‑edge knowledge and techniques at the School of Advanced Materials, and then return to Malaysia to contribute to its development.
Doris says, “Shenzhen is a very vibrant city, with a high‑quality environment for technological innovation and a dynamic atmosphere for business growth.” She believes that the knowledge and experience she gains here will help her make breakthroughs in the field of medical device R&D.
Jia Hui is full of anticipation for his research life at the school: “This place has top‑tier research platforms and deep academic heritage. I hope to challenge more cutting‑edge scientific questions here, exploring the essence of materials science from the most fundamental level.”
As Malaysian Chinese, both Doris and Jia Hui are deeply aware of their unique advantage—they understand the essence of Chinese culture while also grasping Malaysia’s actual needs, making them bridges for scientific, technological, and cultural exchange between the two countries.
V. Conclusion
Every day at Nanyan, Doris and Jia Hui work hard to realize their dreams. Bringing Malaysia’s multicultural background, they immerse themselves in PKU’s academic atmosphere, absorb Shenzhen’s innovative energy, and write their own youth chapter.
Just as the motto of the School of Advanced Materials encourages, they are building a solid academic foundation step by step, starting with making a “good screw.” We believe that in the near future, they will complete their studies successfully, bring advanced materials science and technology back to Malaysia, contribute to the development of their homeland, and serve as ambassadors of friendship between China and Malaysia.
The ripples of Jinghu Lake and the tides of the South China Sea continue. The Nanyan chapter of these two Malaysian students is still being written.
