The stage was silent.The light fell softly over the lectern, outlining Wen Zhaonan's figure like an ink stroke on white paper.
He held no notes.He simply looked at the audience with calmness — as if observing a field of research more alive and complex than any cell under a microscope.
The silence lasted a few seconds.And then, he began:
— Has anyone ever tried to explain what… care is?
The question hung in the air.Simple.Raw.And profoundly disarming.
— Science tries. Nursing measures. Medicine regulates. Psychology theorizes.But there are moments when care escapes the instruments.
He took a few slow steps across the stage.No slides.
— I worked with enzymes for years. I wrote about reactions, mechanisms, saturation curves… published papers describing with precision how one molecule changes another.But it took me longer to understand… how a presence changes someone.
In the third row, Yuyan kept her eyes fixed on him.Her heart followed every word.There was no technique in that moment.There was surrender.
— Think with me.
— His voice grew deeper, more intimate.
— Astrophysics says that every atom formed in the Big Bang remains within us to this day.In biochemistry, we teach that every living organism always tends to spend the least amount of energy possible to survive.
He paused briefly, letting each sentence settle.
— If an atom from the Big Bang remains in you after billions of years… resisting, even against this absolute energy-saving logic… there is only one explanation.
He took a step forward, his eyes sweeping over the audience until they found Yuyan:
— Your importance to the universe.
Lower:
— You are necessary to the universe.
Beside her, Lin murmured, barely moving his lips:
— He's inspired today…
Wen continued:
— There is a piece of data that isn't collected: the silence of someone who listens without interrupting.A gesture no one records: the cup of tea left by a bedside during a long shift.The kind of care that doesn't make it into reports, yet transforms the one who receives it — and, even more… the one who gives it.
He paused.
— Today I didn't come here to speak only as a scientist.I came as someone… who has been cared for.
And only then did the audience realize:what they were hearing was not a lecture.It was an acknowledgment.A confession.A silent reverence for something — or someone — that had transformed his way of seeing the world.
— The first thing that captivated me in biochemistry was not precision.It was silence.
He spoke as if talking to only one person.
— Reactions happen without announcement. Without noise.An enzyme fits into its substrate… and suddenly, everything changes.
He walked a few steps, his hands clasped behind his back.
— We grow up believing that transformation requires force.But biochemistry teaches something else:that it only takes the right touch, in the right place…and the entire structure rearranges itself.
The audience was silent.But in the middle of the third row, someone was holding their breath.
— I have always studied molecules. The Krebs cycle. The respiratory chain.But it took me time to understand… that there are reactions outside the test tubes.That there are encounters, in life, that act as silent catalysts.
He stopped.His face serene, yet his gaze intense.
— Sometimes, someone comes into our life…and without asking anything of us, simply by being there…helps us lower the activation energy of pain.
A nearly imperceptible murmur rippled through the auditorium.
Yuyan felt the words touch something deep inside her — as if he were describing something she herself had not yet found a name for.
Without thinking, she lifted her phone and, in an almost imperceptible motion, took a picture of him on stage.The screen faintly lit her face.But it was not as discreet as she thought.
Wen saw her.And, in that very instant, he smiled.
It was not a smile for the audience.Nor for his colleagues.It was for her.
Heat rose to her cheeks at once, bringing a swift whirlwind of thoughts: Did he understand? Did he notice?Her heart quickened, as if she had done something forbidden and delightful at the same time.
Beside her, Professor Lin turned slowly, raising his eyebrows.
— Did you see that? — he murmured, with a half-playful smile.— He smiled.
Leaning slightly closer, he added in a tone that mixed provocation and surprise:
— It's been a while since I've seen that. And honestly, I don't think it was for my beautiful eyes.
Yuyan looked away, carefully putting her phone away — as if hiding something far too precious to share.
On stage, Wen resumed:
— In science, we give names to mechanisms.But in life… there are reactions that can only be understood with time.
He paused.
— And perhaps the most beautiful thing of all… is that even after the reaction, the enzyme remains.It doesn't get lost.It doesn't get destroyed.It simply… stays available for a new cycle.
His voice grew softer.
— And so it is with care:something that transforms… without ceasing to be whole.
Wen looked out at the auditorium, now completely silent.
— Before I close, I want to leave a simple question:Students, professors, colleagues… what brings us happiness?
He walked to the center of the stage, closer to the light.
— Epicurus said happiness is the absence of pain.Aristotle spoke of fulfillment, of purpose.Psychology tries to measure it in scales.Biochemistry, in neurotransmitters.
He paused briefly.
— Chinese philosophy teaches us something else.For Confucius, happiness is born from duty fulfilled with integrity.For Laozi, it lies in harmony with the Tao — the invisible flow of things.And for Zhuangzi… happiness is to be like a butterfly in a dream: unconcerned with knowing whether it is a dream or reality.
A small smile appeared on his lips.
— But for me… — his voice now almost a whisper — happiness is a moment I don't want to end.
The audience remained still.The waiting was reverent.
— In life, we have many of those moments.A cup of tea with someone who listens.A conversation at the end of a shift.An unexpected lecture.A gathering with old friends.Or simply… a look.
And then he looked at her.Direct.Calm.As if saying everything words could not.
Yuyan held his gaze —And she knew that sentence was theirs alone.
Wen drew in a breath.Gave a slight bow.
— Thank you.
The first applause came timidly.Then the others.And soon the entire auditorium erupted in claps that would not stop.
Lin rose beside Yuyan, but took his time to join in.He looked at her, his expression softly moved.
— Now I understand, Yuyan. — he said quietly.
— He spent his whole life studying bonds… but you're the one who activated the most important one.
The sound of applause still reverberated through the auditorium.Yuyan kept her gaze forward, her fingers brushing against the pendant at her neck.
She said nothing.But the warmth on her skin…and the subtle tremor in her fingers…said it all.