ProfessorTel：
Email：leeyoung@skku.edu
IntroductionProfessor Young Hee LEE, a South Korean national, is a foreign academician of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, an academician of the Korean Academy of Science and Technology, and an academician of the Academy of Sciences for the Developing World. He has long engaged in theoretical and applied research on two-dimensional materials, having published over 700 papers in SCI international journals, including 2 in Nature and 7 in Science. His works have been cited over 94,000 times, with an H-index of 146. He has been repeatedly recognized as a "Highly Cited Researcher" by Clarivate Analytics and his research has had a significant and widespread impact internationally. Academician Young Hee LEE has established the Low-Dimensional Quantum Materials (LQM) Research Center at Hubei University of Technology. This research center spans 16,000 square meters and is equipped with world-class scientific research instruments and facilities, fostering an open and inclusive academic research atmosphere. It serves as a “playground” for researchers to conduct cutting-edge studies on low-dimensional quantum materials. Researchers can access this center through a “one-stop” service, facilitating comprehensive research processes that include material growth, characterization/analysis, and device manufacturing. The research center focuses on the forefront of artificial quantum low-dimensional material development, prioritizing basic research to yield high-level foundational research results while achieving the scaled industrial application of various core technologies related to low-dimensional materials. This aims to provide theoretical and technical support for the development of new materials, new energy, optoelectronics, information technology, biomedical fields, and related industries in Hubei Province.
Education Experience1982-1986 Ph.D thesis: Classical and Quantum Computer Simulation Studies: Molecular Dynamics of the Kerr Effect in CS2 and Green's Function Monte Carlo Calculation of the Electronic Correlation Energy in Atoms (thesis advisor: Michael A. Lee)
1976-1982 B.S., Chonbuk National University (Physics)
Work Experience2024-present Director, Institute of Low- Quantum Materials, Hubei University of Technology
2021-present HCR distinguished professor, Sungkyunkwan University
2012- 2023 Director, Center for Integrated Nanostructure Physics, Institute for Basic Science, Sungkyunkwan University
2001- 2020 Professor, Department of Physics, Sungkyunkwan University
2009- 2020 Professor, Department of Energy Science, Sungkyunkwan University,
1998-2001 Professor, Department of Physics, Chonbuk National University,
1992-1998 Associate Professor, Department of Physics, Chonbuk National University,
1987-1992 Assistant Professor, Department of Physics, Chonbuk National University,
1996-1997 Visiting Professor in Physics, Michigan State University, USA
1993-1993 Visiting Researcher, Zurich IBM Research Center, Switzerland,
1989-1990 Visiting Professor in Physics, Iowa State University Ames National Laboratory, U.S.A.
Quantum material growth
Bose-Einstein condensation in solids with photon-polariton to realize bosonic at room temperature
Realization of hot-carrier solar cells beyond SQ limit
Room-temperature electrical switching of pin flip in 2D ferromagnetic semiconductors
Reaching high mobility and on/off ratio in 2D semiconductors beyond Si
Ultimate Ohmic contact in 2D semiconductors
Energy storage/harvest
Representative publications:
2025 Byoung Hee Moon, Ashok Mondal, Dmitry K. Efimkin, Young Hee Lee*, 'Exciton condensate in van der Waals layered materials', Nature Reviews Physics, 7, 388-401
2024 Hayoung Ko, Soo Ho Choi, Yunjae Park, Seungjin Lee, Chang Seok Oh, Sung Youb Kim, Young Hee Lee*, Soo Min Kim, Feng Ding, Ki Kang Kim, 'Atomic sawtooth-like metal films for vdW-layered single-crystal growth', Nature Communications, 15, 5848
2024 Young Hee Lee*, 'Approaching the quantum limit of contact resistance in van der Waals layered semiconductors', Science, 384(6802)
2024 Young Hee Lee*, 'Beyond the Shockley-Queisser limit: Exploring new frontiers in solar energy harvest'', Science, 303(6686)
2023 Young Hee Lee*, “Is it possible to create magnetic semiconductors that function at room temperature?”, Science, 382(6668)
2023 Lan-Anh T. Nguyen, Jinbao Jiang, Tuan Dung Nguyen, Philip Kim, Min-kyu Joo, Dinh Loc Duong, Young Hee Lee, "Electrically tunable magnetic fluctuations in multilayered V-doped WSe2 ," Nature Electronics 501(69) , 1-18
2023 Riya Sebait, Roberto Rosati, Seok Joon Yun, Krishna P Dhakal, Samuel Brem, Chandan Biswas, Alexander Puretzky, Ermin Malic, Young Hee Lee*, "Sequential order dependent dark-exciton modulation in bi-layered TMD heterostructure," Nature Communications 14(5548), 1-9
2023 Ashok Mondal, Chandan Biswas, Sehwan Park, Wujoon Cha, Seoung-Hun Kang, Mina Yoon, Soo Ho Choi, Ki Kang Kim, and Young Hee Lee*, "Low Ohmic contact resistance and high on/off ratio in transition metal dichalcogenides field-effect transistors via residue-free transfer," Nature Nanotechnology https://doi.org/10.1038/s41565-023-01497-x
2023 Matthew D. Watson, Alex Louat, Cephise Cacho, Sungkyun Choi, Young Hee Lee, Michael Neumann, Gideok Kim, "Spectral signatures of a unique charge density wave in Ta2NiSe7," Nature Communications 14(3388), 1-7
2023 Ui Yeon Won, Quoc An Vu, Sung Bum Park, Mi Hyang Park, Van Dam Do, Hyun Jun Park, Heejun Yang, Young Hee Lee*, Woo Jong Yu, "Multi-neuron connection using multi-terminal floating–gate memristor for unsupervised learning," Nature Communications 14(3070), 1-11
2023 Taewoo Ha, Yu-Seong Seo, Teun-Teun Kim, Bipin Lamichhane, Young-Hoon Kim, Su Jae Kim, Yousil Lee, Jong Kim, Sang Eon Park, Kyung Ik Sim, Jae Kim, Yong In Kim, Seon Kim, Hu Young Jeong, Young Hee Lee, Seong-Gon Kim, Young-Min Kim, Jungseek Hwang, and Se-Young Jeong, "Coherent consolidation of trillions of nucleations for mono-atom step-level flat surfaces," Nature Communications 14(685), 1-9
2022 Thanh Luan Phan, Sohyeon Seo, Yunhee Cho, Quoc An Vu, Young Hee Lee, Dinh Loc Duong, Hyoyoung Lee and Woo Jong Yu, "CNT-molecule-CNT (1D-0D-1D) van der Waals integration ferroelectric memory with 1-nm2 junction area'," Nature Communications 13(4556), 1-8
2022 Sunghun Kim, Joonho Bang, Chan-young Lim, Seung Yong Lee, Jounghoon Hyun, Gyubin Lee, Yeonghoon Lee, Jonathan D. Denlinger, Soonsang Huh, Changyoung Kim, Sang Yong Song, Jungpil Seo, Dinesh Thapa, Seong-Gon Kim, Young Hee Lee, Yeongkwan Kim, Sung Wng Kim, "Quantum electron liquid and its possible phase transition," Nature Materials 21(11), 1269-1274
2022 Dohyun Kim, Eui Cheol Shin, Yongjoon Lee, Young Hee Lee, Mali Zhao, Yong-Hyun Kim, Heejun Yang, "Atomic-scale thermopower in charge density wave states," Nature Communications 13(4516), 1-8
2022 Su Jae Kim, Yong In Kim, Bipin Lamichhane, Young-Hoon Kim, Yousil Lee, Chae Ryong Cho, Miyeon Cheon, Jong Chan Kim, Hu Young Jeong, Taewoo Ha, Jungdae Kim, Young Hee Lee, Seong-Gon Kim, Young Min Kim, Se-Young Jeong "Flat-surface-assisted and self-regulated oxidation resistance of Cu(111)," Nature 603, 434-438
2022 Soo Ho Choi, Seok Joon Yun, Yo Seob Won, Chang Seok Oh, Soo Min Kim, Ki Kang Kim, Young Hee Lee*, "Large-scale synthesis of graphene and other 2D materials towards industrialization," Nature Communications 13(1484), 1-5
2022 Kyungwha Chung, Joonho Bang, Athira Thacharon, Hyun Yong Song, S Hwang Kang, Woo-Sung Jang, Neha Dhull, Dinesh Thapa, C. Muhammed Ajmal, Bumsub Song, Sung-Gyu Lee, Zhen Wang, Albina Jetybayeva, Seungbum Hong, Kyu Hyoung Lee, Eun Jin Cho, Seunghyun Baik, Sang Ho Oh, Young-Min Kim, Young Hee Lee, Seong-Gon Kim Sung Wng Kim, "Non-oxidized bare copper nanoparticles with surface excess electrons in air," Nature Nanotechnology 17, 285-291
2021 Yuval Ronen, Thomas Werkmeister, Danial Haie Najaabadi, Andrew T. Pierce, Laurel E. Anderson, Young Jae Shin, Si Young Lee, Young Hee Lee, Bobae Johnson, Kenji Watanabe, Takashi Taniguchi, Amir Yacoby, Philip Kim , "Aharonov–Bohm effect in graphene-based Fabry–Pérot quantum Hall interferometers," Nature Nanotechnology 16, 563-569
2021 Sergey Menabde, In-Ho Lee, Sang Hyup Lee, Heonhak Ha, Jacob Heiden, Daehan Yoo, Teun-Teun Kim, Tony Low, Young Hee Lee*, Sang-Hyun Oh, and Min Seok Jang , "Real-space imaging of acoustic plasmons in large-area graphene grown by chemical vapor deposition," Nature Communications 12(938), 1-7
2020 Van Luan Nguyen, Dinh Loc Duong, Sanghyub Lee, Jose Avila, Gyeongtak Han, Young-Min Kim, Maria C Asensio, Se-Young Jeong, Young Hee Lee*, "Layer-controlled single-crystalline graphene film with stacking order via Cu-Si alloy formation," Nature Nanotechnology 15, 861-867
2020 Seung Yong Lee, Jae-Yeol Hwang, Jongho Park, Chandani N. Nandadasa, Younghak Kim, Joonho Bang, Kimoon Lee, Kyu Hyoung Lee, Yunwei Zhang; Yanming Ma; Hideo Hosono; Young Hee Lee; Seong-Gon Kim; Sung Wng Kim, "Ferromagnetic quasi-atomic electrons in two-dimensional electride," Nature Communications 11, 1526-1~1526-8
2019 Ji-Hee Kim, Matthew R. Bergren, Jin Cheol Park, Subash Adhikari, Michael Lorke, Thomas Fraunheim, Duk-Hyun Choe, Beom Kim, Hyunyong Choi, Tom Gregorkiewicz, and Young Hee Lee*, "Carrier Multiplication in van der Waals Layered Transition Metal Dichalcogenides," Nature Communications 10, 5488
2018 Joo Song Lee, Soo Ho Choi, Seok Joon Yun, Yong In Kim, Stephen Boandoh, Ji-Hoon Park, Bong Gyu Shin, Hayoung Ko, Seung Hee Lee, Young-Min, Kim, Young Hee Lee*, Misorientation-Angle-Dependent Phase Transformation in van der Waals Multilayers via Electron-Beam Irradiation, Misorientation-Angle-Dependent Phase Transformation in van der Waals Multilayers via Electron-Beam Irradiation, Ki Kang Kim, Soo Min Kim, "Wafer-scale single-crystal hexagonal boron nitride film via self-collimated grain formation," Science 362(6416), 817-821
2018 Byoung Hee Moon, Jung Jun Bae, Min-Kyu Joo, Homin choi, Gang Hee Han, Hanjo Lim, Young Hee Lee*, "Soft Coulomb gap asymmetric scaling towards metal-insulator quantum criticality in multilayer MoS2," Nature Communications 9, 2052
2017 Seok Joon Yun, Gang Hee Han, Hyun Kim, Dinh Loc Duong, Bong Gyu Shin, Jiong Zhao, Quoc An Vu, Jubok Lee, Seung Mi Lee, Young Hee Lee*, "Telluriding monolayer MoS2 and WS2 via alkali metal scooter," Nature Communivations 8, 2163
2017 Seung Hyun Song, Min-Kyu Joo, Michael Neumann, Hyun Kim, Young Hee Lee*, "Probing defect dynamics in monolayer MoS2 via noise nanospectroscopy ," Nature Communications 8, 2121
2017 Heejun Yang, Sung Wng Kim, Manish Chhowalla and Young Hee Lee*, "Structural and quantum-state phase transition in van der Waals layered materials," Nature Physics 13(10), 931-937
2017 Thuc Hue Ly, Jiong Zhao, Magdalena Ola Cichocka, Lain-Jong Li, Young Hee Lee*, "Dynamical observations on the crack tip zone and stress corrosion of two-dimensional MoS2," Nature Communications 8, 14116
2016 Hyun Seok Lee, Dinh Hoa Luong. Min Su Kim, Youngjo Jin, Hyun Kim, Seokjoon Yun, and Young Hee Lee*, "Reconfigurable exciton-plasmon interconversion for nanophotonic circuits," Nature Communications 7, 13663
2016 Woo Jong Yu, Quoc An Vu, Hyemin Oh, Hong Gi Nam, Hailong Zhou, Soonyoung Cha, Joo-Youn Kim, Alexandra Carvalho, Munseok Jeong, Hyunyong Choi, Antonio H. Castro-Neto, Young Hee Lee*, Xiangfeng Duan, "Unusually efficient photocurrent extraction in monolayer van der Waals heterostructure by tunnelling through discretized barriers," Nature Communications 7, 13278
2016 Quoc An Vu, Yong Seon Shin, Young Rae Kim, Van Luan Nguyen, Won Tae Kang, Hyun Kim, Dinh Hoa Luong, Il Min Lee, Kiyoung Lee, Dong–Su Ko, Jinseong Heo, Seongjun Park, Young Hee Lee*, "Two-Terminal Floating-Gate Memory with van der Waals Heterostructures for Ultrahigh On/Off Ratio," Nature Communications 7, 12725
2016 Thuc Hue Ly, David J. Perello. Jiong Zhao, Qingmin Deng, Hyun Kim, Gang Hee Han, Sang Hoon Chae, Hye Yun Jeong and Young Hee Lee*, "Misorientation-angle-dependent electrical transport across molybdenum disulfide grain boundaries," Nature communications 7(10426), 1-7
2015 Soo Min Kim, Allen Hsu, Min Ho Park,Sang Hoon Chae, Seok Joon Yun, Joo Song Lee, Dae-Hyun Cho, Wenjing Fang, Changgu Lee, Toma´s Palacios, Mildred Dresselhaus, Ki Kang Kim, Young Hee Lee* and Jing Kong, "Synthesis of large-area multilayer hexagonal boron nitride for high material performance," Nature Communications 6, 9662
2015 David J. Perello, Sang Hoon Chae, Seunghyun Song1 & Young Hee Lee*, "High-performance n-type black phosphorus transistors with type control via thickness and contact-metal engineering ," Nature Communications 6(7809), 1~8
2015 Suyeon Cho, Sera Kim, Jung Ho Kim, Jiong Zhao, Jinbong Seok, Dong Hoon Keum, Jaeyoon Baik, Duk-Hyun Choe, KJ. Chang, Kazu Suenaga, Sung Wng Kim, Young Hee Lee*, Heejun Yang , "Phase patterning for ohmic homojunction contact in MoTe2," Science 349(6248), 625-628
2015 Dong Hoon Keum, Suyeon Cho, Jung Ho Kim, Duk-Hyun Choe, Ha-Jun Sung, Min Kan, Haeyong Kang, Jae-Yeol Hwang, Sung Wng Kim, Heejun Yang, K. J. Chang & Young Hee Lee*, "Bandgap opening in few-layered monoclinic MoTe2," Nature Physics 11(6), 482-486
2015 Gang Hee Han, Nicholas J. Kybert, Carl H. Naylor, Bum Su Lee, Jinglei Ping, Joo Hee Park, Jisoo Kang, Si Young Lee, Young Hee Lee, Ritesh Agarwal & A.T. Charlie Johnson, "Seeded growth of highly crystalline molybdenum disulphide monolayers at controlled locations" Nature Communications 6(6128) , 1-6.
2015 Sang Il Kim, Kyu Hyoung Lee, Hyeon A Mun, Hyun Sik Kim, Sung Woo Hwang, Jong Wook Roh, Dae Jin Yang, Weon Ho Shin, Xiang Shu Li, Young Hee Lee, G. Jeffrey Snyder, Sung Wng Kim, "Dense dislocation arrays embedded in grain boundaries for high-performance bulk thermoelectrics," Science 348(6230), 109-114
2013 Sang Hoon Chae, Woo Jong Yu, Jung Jun Bae, Dinh Loc Duong, David Perello, Hye Yun Jeong, Quang Huy Ta, Thuc Hue Ly, Quoc An Vu, Minhee Yun, Xiangfeng Duan, and Young Hee Lee*, "Transferred wrinkled Al2O3 for highly stretchable and transparent graphene-carbon nanotube transistors," Nature Materials 12(5), 403-409
2012 Dinh Loc Duong, Gang Hee Han, Seung Mi Lee, Fethullah Gunes, Eun Sung Kim, Sung Tae Kim, Heetae Kim, Quang Huy Ta, Kang Pyo So, Seok Jun Yoon, Seung Jin Chae1, Young Woo Jo, Min Ho Park, Sang Hoon Chae, Seong Chu Lim, Jae Young Choi and Young Hee Lee*, "Probing graphene grain boundaries with optical microscopy," Nature 490(7419), 235-239
1996 A. Thess, R. Lee, P. Nikolaev, H. Dai, P. Petit, J. Robert, C. Xu, Y. H. Lee*, S. G. Kim, D. T. Colbert, G. Scuseria, D. Tomanek, J. E. Fischer, and R. E. Smalley, ""Crystalline ropes of metallic carbon nanotubes," Science 273 (5274), 483-487
2026 Lifetime Member of the Korean Academy of Science and Technology
2024 Molecular Science Forum(Distinguished Lecturer)
2023 Materials Science Leader Award (Research.com, a leading academic platform for researchers, ranked #160 in the world ranking and #4 in South Korea.)
2025, 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021,2020, 2019, 2018 Highly Cited Researchers (top 1% by citation for field and year, Clarivate Analytics)
2021 Foreign Member of the Chinese Academy of Sciences
2020 The World of Academy Sciences (TWAS) fellow
2020 Sung-Bong Prize
2019 KYUNG-AM Prize
2017 Einstein Award (Distinguished Scientists Award) (CAS President’s International Fellowship Initiative, China)
2014 SU-DANG Prize
2008 Presidential Award in Science and Education
2007 Lee Hsun Research Award, IMR, Chinese Academy of Sciences
2007 Fellow of Korea Academy of Science and Technology
2007 Fellow of Sungkyunkwan University
2006 Nominated as ‘The Most Respectable Scientists & Engineers’, by Ministry of Education
2005 Nominated as ‘The National scholar’, by Ministry of Education
2005 Science Award from Korean Physical Society
2004 First fellow of Sungkyunkwan University
1999 Nominated for 'Man of Jeonbuk State', in Academia and public press
1997 Award from Foundation of Korea Science and Technology for ' The Best Paper in Physics'
Weekly Column20Weekly Column19Weekly Column18Weekly Column17Weekly Column16Weekly Column15Weekly Column14Weekly Column13Weekly Column12Weekly Column11Weekly Column10What Makes a Good Research Advisor?
Entering graduate school is not simply about studying a little more. If undergraduate education is about learning knowledge that already exists, graduate school is where students learn to search for answers that do not yet exist.
In that sense, entering graduate school marks a major shift in mindset.
Undergraduates also perform laboratory experiments, but most simply follow prepared manuals and confirm expected results. At many universities, particularly those with limited research infrastructure, students graduate without ever learning how to operate sophisticated research equipment themselves.
A graduate laboratory is an entirely different world.
New students usually have no idea where to begin. They must learn everything from scratch—how to operate instruments, prepare samples, organize data, and even how to read scientific papers effectively. At first, they simply observe senior students and learn one small task at a time.
Gradually, through repeated failures and countless hours in the laboratory, research becomes more familiar. In most cases, it takes two or three years before students truly understand their research projects and begin designing experiments on their own.
The journey is rarely smooth.
Experiments fail repeatedly. Sometimes the data seem meaningless. After working hard for months without seeing progress, students may even begin to wonder whether they are simply not suited for research. Many become discouraged, and some eventually decide to leave research altogether.
This is precisely where the role of an advisor becomes essential.
A good advisor is not someone who simply provides answers. A good advisor helps students understand the problem and stays with them until they are capable of finding the answers themselves.
Sometimes an advisor must teach experimental techniques directly. Sometimes they must recommend the right papers to read. At other times, they need to redirect a research project or simply encourage a student who has lost confidence.
It is easy for a professor to say, "Figure it out yourself." But for someone just beginning research, that can become neglect rather than independence.
Of course, students should eventually learn to make their own decisions and take responsibility for them. But before reaching that stage, they need continuous guidance, encouragement, and training.
For this reason, choosing a research advisor is one of the most important decisions a graduate student will ever make.
Choosing a research topic matters. Yet choosing who to work with may matter even more. The years spent in graduate school shape not only a student's research skills and scientific thinking but often the direction of an entire career.
In Korea, many students carefully investigate prospective advisors before entering graduate school. They read their papers, study their research interests, gather information online, and often meet professors personally before making a decision.
Even then, reality does not always match expectations.
Students sometimes discover that the research topic does not suit them, or that the advisor's mentoring style or the laboratory atmosphere simply does not fit.
When that happens, they naturally begin to think about changing laboratories.
But changing advisors is rarely easy.
Professors may interpret a student's departure as a personal failure—or even as a betrayal. Students, on the other hand, often feel guilty or intimidated. If communication breaks down, emotional conflict can easily follow.
In China, this challenge can be even greater. Because of the traditionally hierarchical relationship between students and professors, many students hesitate to express their wish to change laboratories. They worry about upsetting their advisor or damaging the relationship. Yet choosing the right advisor is one of the decisions that most profoundly affects a student's future.
If a research topic genuinely does not fit a student, or if the personalities of the advisor and student are fundamentally incompatible, forcing the relationship to continue does not necessarily benefit either side.
At such moments, professors should look beyond their own interests.
Students are not simply members of a research group; they are individuals with futures of their own. Their growth should always be more important than preserving the size of a laboratory. Every relationship has its own chemistry.
No matter how outstanding a professor may be, they cannot be the perfect mentor for every student. Likewise, even the most hardworking student cannot adapt equally well to every advising style.
When we choose collaborators, personal chemistry often matters as much as scientific expertise. The relationship between a graduate student and an advisor is no different.
Research is, after all, something people do together.
If the relationship is not working, the important question is not who is right or wrong, but what decision will ultimately be best for both people. Sometimes that means helping a student find another laboratory. In my opinion, that too is part of a professor's responsibility.
In Korea, there is a well-known website called Dr. Kim where graduate students and postdoctoral researchers anonymously share their experiences with research laboratories. Students evaluate advisors on many aspects: mentoring style, laboratory atmosphere, research funding, scientific leadership, and career outcomes after graduation. From a professor's perspective, reading these comments can be uncomfortable—and sometimes stressful. I once looked up comments about my own laboratory. One review simply said, "The professor is very strict." For a moment, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or reflect. Perhaps both. ^^
Of course, anonymous reviews are not always fair or accurate. Nevertheless, the very existence of such a website reminds us that graduate school is not always an easy experience. Professors evaluate students, but students also evaluate professors. Perhaps that is why professors must continually reflect on themselves.
Throughout my career, I have supervised more than eighty Ph.D. students. Some eventually left my laboratory and completed their degrees elsewhere. At the time, it was difficult for everyone involved. Yet many of them went on to become professors themselves, and they continue to build successful careers today. I still keep in touch with many of them. Looking back, leaving my laboratory was not necessarily a failure. It may simply have been the path that suited them better.
My youngest brother is also a professor. During his graduate studies in the United States, he changed advisors twice. I can only imagine how difficult and uncertain those decisions must have been. Eventually, however, he found the research that truly suited him and later became one of the pioneers of the Fringe Field Switching (FFS) liquid-crystal display technology. Had he remained with his first advisor, would he have achieved the same success? No one can know.
What I do know is that changing advisors did not ruin his career. On the contrary, it helped him find his own path. That is why I do not believe that a good advisor should try to keep every student at all costs. Sometimes, letting a student go is also part of education. A good advisor is not someone who keeps students in the laboratory, but someone who helps them discover where they truly belong.
Becoming a professor does not automatically make someone a good mentor. A Ph.D. is much like a driver's license. It gives you permission to drive, but it does not make you an experienced driver. Good drivers are shaped by thousands of kilometers on the road.
Good professors are shaped in much the same way. Publishing many papers alone does not make someone a good advisor. Good mentors are formed by thinking together with students, struggling together, overcoming failures together, resolving conflicts together, and growing together. Professors teach research to their students. But in many ways, students also teach professors how to become better mentors.
That is why a great laboratory is never built by excellent equipment alone. It is built when good advisors and good students respect one another, take responsibility for their own roles, and grow together. I hope the LQM Institute will become such a place.A place where students are never afraid to ask questions.
A place where professors see students not simply as contributors to publications, but as future researchers.
A great laboratory should never be judged only by the number of papers it publishes.
Its true measure is the kind of researchers its students become after they leave.
Perhaps, in the end, a truly great advisor is not someone who produces many papers, but someone who helps produce many great researchers.
什么是真正优秀的导师？
进入研究生阶段，并不仅仅意味着继续学习更多知识。如果说本科教育是在学习已经存在的知识，那么研究生阶段则是在学习如何寻找那些尚未有答案的问题。从这个意义上说，当学生进入研究生阶段的那一刻，也意味着一种全新的“学习模式转换”。
本科期间当然也有实验课程，但大多数学生只是按照实验手册完成规定的实验，验证预期的结果而已。尤其是在实验条件有限的大学，许多学生毕业时甚至没有真正接触过先进科研设备。而研究生实验室，则完全是另一个世界。刚进入实验室的学生，往往不知道应该从哪里开始。他们必须重新学习一切：如何操作仪器、如何制备样品、如何整理数据、如何阅读科研论文。起初，他们只能跟着高年级同学，一点一点地学习。经过一次又一次的失败与摸索，学生才会逐渐适应科研。通常需要两三年的时间，他们才能真正理解自己的研究课题，并开始独立设计实验。而这一过程，从来都不会一帆风顺。
实验可能一次次失败，得到的数据也可能毫无意义。付出了很多努力，却依然看不到方向时，学生甚至会怀疑自己是否适合做科研。有不少学生正是在这个阶段失去了信心，甚至放弃了科研。正是在这个时候，导师的重要性才真正体现出来。
优秀的导师，不是直接告诉学生答案的人。真正优秀的导师，是帮助学生理解问题，并陪伴学生一起思考，直到他们能够自己找到答案的人。必要的时候，要亲自教学生实验技术；告诉他们应该阅读哪些论文；帮助他们调整研究方向；更重要的是，在学生失去信心的时候，重新给予他们继续前进的勇气。
对导师来说，说一句“你自己去想吧”，其实很容易。但对于刚开始做科研的学生而言，这种所谓的自由，有时候并不是培养独立，而更像是一种放任。当然，当学生成长之后，他们应该学会独立思考，并为自己的选择负责。但在成长到那个阶段之前，他们需要导师持续不断的关注、训练与陪伴。因此，对于研究生来说，选择导师，是整个研究生阶段最重要的决定之一。
研究方向固然重要，但与谁一起做研究，也许更加重要。因为研究生阶段的几年，不仅决定一个人的科研能力，更会塑造他的思维方式，甚至影响未来的人生。
在韩国，很多学生进入研究生之前，都会通过互联网、论文以及各种公开信息了解导师的研究方向、实验室氛围，并与导师进行面谈之后，再决定进入哪一个实验室。即便如此，真正进入实验室之后，也并不一定都会符合自己的期待。有时候，研究方向并不适合自己；有时候，导师的指导方式或者实验室氛围，也未必适合自己。于是，学生便会开始考虑是否应该更换实验室。
然而，更换导师，从来都不是一件容易的事情。导师可能会把学生的离开理解为自己的失败，甚至是一种背叛；学生则会因为内疚、害怕而难以开口。如果双方沟通不好，甚至可能发展成情绪上的冲突。
在中国，这种情况往往更加明显。由于导师与学生之间具有较强的上下级关系，许多学生即使想更换实验室，也很难鼓起勇气表达自己的想法，总是在顾虑导师的感受。但是，导师的选择，对于研究生未来的发展至关重要。如果研究方向确实不适合学生，或者双方的性格、工作方式差异太大，那么勉强维持这种关系，并不一定是最好的结果。此时，导师更应该站在学生的角度思考问题。学生首先是一个拥有自己未来的人，而不是导师实验室里的科研劳动力。比起维持实验室的人数，更重要的是学生自身的成长。
人与人之间，总会存在一种微妙的“化学反应”。再优秀的导师，也不可能适合所有学生；同样，再努力的学生，也未必适应每一种指导方式。我们在选择科研合作伙伴时，除了研究方向之外，也非常重视人与人之间是否合拍。导师与研究生之间，同样如此。因为科研，本质上是一件人与人共同完成的事业。如果彼此并不适合，与其争论谁对谁错，不如冷静地思考，什么样的选择对双方都是最好的。必要的时候，让学生选择新的实验室，也是导师应承担的责任。
韩国有一个著名的网站，叫做 Kim博士网（김박사넷）。研究生和博士后会匿名分享自己实验室的经历，对导师的指导方式、实验室氛围、科研能力、科研经费管理以及毕业后的发展等进行评价。站在教授的立场，这样的网站多少会让人感到压力。我自己也曾经看过别人对我实验室的评价。其中有一句让我印象深刻：“导师很严格。”看到之后，我一时不知道该笑，还是应该认真反思。^^当然，匿名评价未必完全客观、公正。但是，这样的网站能够存在，本身就说明研究生在实验室生活中确实会遇到许多困难。导师评价学生，学生同样也在评价导师。因此，导师更应该不断反思自己。
到目前为止，我已经培养了八十多位博士。其中，也有一些学生后来离开了我的实验室，在其他实验室完成了博士学位。当时，对双方来说都并不轻松。但后来，他们中的许多人都成为了大学教授，并且拥有了属于自己的事业。直到今天，我们依然保持着良好的关系。现在回过头来看，学生离开我的实验室，并不一定意味着失败。相反，那也许只是他们找到了更适合自己的道路。我的小弟现在也是一位大学教授。当年在美国攻读博士期间，他曾两次更换导师。我可以想象，当时他的内心一定充满了不安与压力。但最终，他找到了真正适合自己的研究方向，并成为液晶显示领域技术的开创者之一。如果当初一直留在第一位导师的实验室，他今天是否还能取得同样的成就？
没有人知道答案。但至少可以确定的是，更换导师并没有毁掉他的人生。相反，那成为了他找到自己道路的重要转折点。因此，我始终认为，当学生希望离开的时候，导师不应该一味地挽留。有时候，学会放手，本身也是一种教育。真正优秀的导师，并不是把学生一直留在自己的实验室，而是帮助学生找到真正属于自己的道路。成为教授，并不意味着自动成为优秀的导师。博士学位，更像是一张驾驶证。它意味着你获得了驾驶资格，却并不意味着你已经成为一位成熟的驾驶者。真正优秀的驾驶员，是经过无数公里驾驶之后成长起来的。
优秀的导师，也是如此。发表很多论文，并不等于就是优秀的导师。真正的导师，是在与学生一起思考、一起失败、一起经历冲突、一起成长的过程中，慢慢成长起来的。导师在教学生如何做科研。而学生，也同样在教导师如何成为更好的导师。因此，一个优秀的实验室，从来不是依靠先进设备建立起来的。只有优秀的导师与优秀的学生彼此尊重、各自承担责任，并共同成长，才能真正建立起优秀的实验室。
Weekly Column9What Makes a Good Research Laboratory
After more than forty years of life as a professor and researcher, I have come to feel that this profession is my calling. Yet from time to time, I find myself asking a simple question.
Have I really walked this path happily all these years? Has research always been enjoyable?
People often hear me say that I love research. That is true. But the journey has never been easy. Looking back, I realize that research has always been a constant struggle with myself.
"Am I really doing good research?"
That question has followed me throughout my career.
There is always pressure from the outside to achieve more. Sometimes people jokingly ask me, "When are you going to win the Nobel Prize?" Whenever I hear that, I find myself asking a much more serious question.
"Am I really moving in the right direction?"
Whenever I begin to doubt myself, one question always brings me back.
"Do I still love research?"
Even today, nothing excites me more than discovering something new. The joy of witnessing a new phenomenon for the first time is unlike anything else I have ever experienced.
But loving research and doing research well are not the same thing.
Whenever I ask myself, "Am I really doing good research?" I become humble. My own weaknesses—laziness, complacency, pride, fear—begin to reveal themselves one by one. At times like these, I simply go for taking a long run. Running clears my mind. When I return, I tell myself, "It is not too late." "I can still become better." With that encouragement, I walk back into the laboratory. Perhaps that is simply what it means to be a researcher.
A good research environment certainly matters. But even more important is having a personal strategy for doing research. Providing outstanding facilities and world-class equipment, as we are doing at our institute, does not automatically produce outstanding research.
Good research is not created by good facilities alone. Today, no one can conduct great research entirely alone. We need talented students, dedicated colleagues, advanced instruments, and sufficient research funding. With all of these in place, it is possible to produce papers. But producing papers and producing truly meaningful research are two very different things.
One of the most important strategies I have always believed in is holding a group meeting every week.
Every professor has students, and together they form a research team. In China, a laboratory often consists of professors, associate professors, assistant professors, and graduate students working together as one group.
Ultimately, however, the atmosphere and future of a laboratory depend on the leadership of its professor. A good advisor helps students grow into capable researchers. A poor advisor can just as easily limit their potential.
Unfortunately, many students choose their supervisors without knowing enough about them. They may know little about the professor's research philosophy or mentoring style before joining a laboratory. As a result, many simply follow the path that has been assigned to them instead of actively choosing their own direction. They conduct research, but gradually lose sight of why they are doing it.
I hope the young researchers who join the LQM Institute will be different. They already understand that good research cannot be built solely on people, equipment, and funding. It also requires strategy.
Our institute is built around young faculty members. That is precisely why I have hope. Each research group holds a weekly small-group meeting, while the institute organizes a weekly journal club. We invite outside speakers to introduce new research fields, and whenever necessary we organize brainstorming sessions. I am always happy to discuss research directions with our teams. But the final decisions belong to each group. Responsibility for the research also belongs to them. I have always thought of group meetings as family gatherings. Throughout my career, my students have never been merely students—they have been my family. Looking back, most of the joys and disappointments of my life are closely tied to the people who shared my laboratory.
That is why our group meetings are never just opportunities to report data. We examine new results together, identify problems, and revise our research directions. The professor's role is to think through the difficulties and suggest new paths forward.
This is never easy. Professors themselves must continue learning. When students encounter problems, I often find myself returning to the literature, studying again, and searching for new ideas before the next meeting. It is wonderful when students discover the solution on their own. But when they cannot, the professor must think alongside them. That is why the role of a professor is so important.
Sometimes even group meetings fall into routine. People bring data, discussions become formalities, and everyone appears to be doing research without genuine enthusiasm.
When that happens, the first person who should reflect is the professor. Why has the team changed? In most cases, I believe the responsibility lies with the leader. At such moments, the format of the meetings must also change. Instead of simply reviewing data, we can search for entirely new research topics. We can spend time studying recent publications together. We can even design the figures and expected outcomes of future projects before the experiments begin.
The important thing is to help the entire team rediscover its curiosity. Because good research always begins with curiosity.
When research reaches a dead end, students naturally become discouraged. At times like that, we need to share our struggles together. Sometimes it is enough simply to have a meal together or enjoy a drink while talking openly. Interestingly, after sharing those concerns, I have often found that a solution appears the next morning after a good night's sleep. I have experienced this many times myself, and many of my students have told me they have experienced the same thing.
If a professor leaves students alone to struggle, truly good research is difficult to achieve. That is why professors must constantly examine themselves and continually push themselves to become better. Perhaps being a professor is more than simply having a profession. Perhaps it is a calling. There is an old saying in Korea that teaching is one's true vocation. The older I become, the more I understand its meaning.
Once I accepted this work as my calling, life became much simpler. And if this is truly what I love, then surely it is a path worth walking until the very end.
建立一个优秀研究中心的条件
四十多年来，我一直以教授和科研工作者的身份生活着。走到今天，我越来越觉得，这份职业仿佛就是我的一种使命。然而，我也常常会问自己一个问题：这些年来，我真的一直快乐地走在这条路上吗？科研真的一直都是快乐的吗？
很多人都知道我喜欢做研究。这是真的。但这条路从来都不轻松。回头看，我发现，科研始终是一场与自己的较量。
“我真的做好科研了吗？”这个问题一直伴随着我。
来自外界的压力始终存在，人们总希望你做出更好的成果。有时甚至会有人半开玩笑地问我：“您什么时候能拿诺贝尔奖？” 每当听到这样的问题，我反而会认真地问自己：“我真的走在正确的道路上吗？”每当开始怀疑自己的时候，总有一个问题能够让我重新找到方向。“我现在还喜欢科研吗？”
直到今天，没有什么事情比发现新的现象更让我兴奋。第一次看到一个前所未见的科学现象时，那种喜悦，没有任何事情能够替代。然而，喜欢科研，并不等于能做好科研。
每当我问自己：“我真的做好科研了吗？”的时候，我都会变得更加谦逊。懒惰、安逸、自满、恐惧…… 自己身上的各种弱点都会一个个浮现出来。每当这个时候，我都会去长跑。跑步能够让我整理思绪。跑完回来，我总会告诉自己：“还不晚。” “我还能做得更好。” 于是，我重新走进实验室。也许，这就是科研工作者的人生。做好科研，良好的科研环境当然重要。
但比环境更重要的，是属于自己的科研策略。即使像我们研究所，拥有先进的设备和优越的科研条件，也并不意味着每个人都能够做好科研。
优秀的科研，并不是靠设备自然产生的。今天，已经不是一个人单打独斗就能够做好科研的时代。我们需要优秀的学生，需要志同道合的同事，需要先进的实验设备，也需要充足的科研经费。拥有这些条件之后，论文当然可以发表。但是，能够发表论文，与真正做出优秀的科研成果，是完全不同的两件事情。
在我看来，最重要的科研策略之一，就是坚持每周举行一次组会议（Group Meeting）。每位教授都有自己的学生，他们共同组成一个研究团队。在中国，一个课题组通常由教授、副教授、助理教授以及研究生共同组成。最终，一个研究室的氛围和未来，很大程度上取决于教授的领导能力。
优秀的导师能够帮助学生成长为优秀的科研人员；而不合适的导师，也可能限制学生的发展。令人遗憾的是，很多学生在选择导师之前，对导师的科研方向、科研理念以及指导方式了解得并不充分。于是，他们更多只是沿着既定的道路前进，而不是主动选择属于自己的研究方向。他们在做科研，却渐渐忘记了自己为什么要做科研。
我希望，加入LQM研究所的年轻科研人员能够有所不同。他们应该明白，优秀的科研并不仅仅依赖于人才、设备和经费。真正重要的，还有科研策略。
我们的研究所以年轻教师为主体。也正因为如此，我充满希望。每个课题组都会坚持每周举行一次小组讨论，研究所每周举行一次weekly seminar。我们邀请外部专家介绍新的研究方向，也会根据需要组织头脑风暴（Brainstorming）。对于研究方向，我也愿意和大家一起讨论。但是，最终的决定，仍然属于各个研究团队自己。科研的责任，也最终属于他们自己。
一直以来，我都把Group Meeting看作是一次家庭聚会。在我的科研生涯中，学生从来不仅仅是学生，更像是我的家人。回过头来看，我人生中的大多数快乐与遗憾，都和实验室里的这些人紧紧联系在一起。因此，我们的Group Meeting从来不仅仅是汇报实验数据。大家一起分析新的实验结果，寻找问题，并不断调整研究方向。教授的重要职责，就是帮助团队思考困难，并提出新的方向。
这绝不是一件容易的事情。教授自己也必须不断学习。为了帮助学生解决问题，我常常重新查阅文献，重新学习，并在下一次会议之前寻找新的思路。如果学生能够自己找到答案，那当然是最好的。但如果不能，教授就必须陪着他们一起思考。这正是教授存在的重要价值。
有时候，Group Meeting也会陷入一种惯性。大家照常汇报数据，讨论流于形式，每个人似乎都在做科研，却失去了真正的热情。每当这个时候，第一个应该反思的人，就是教授自己。为什么团队发生了变化？在我看来，大多数情况下，责任都在团队领导者身上。这时候，会议本身也应该改变。不只是讨论实验数据，还可以共同寻找新的研究课题；可以一起深入学习最新发表的重要论文；甚至可以在实验开始之前，先设计未来论文的图表和预期结果。最重要的是，让整个团队重新找回好奇心。因为，真正优秀的科研，永远始于好奇心。
当科研陷入瓶颈的时候，学生自然会感到沮丧。这时，我们更应该一起分享彼此的烦恼。有时候，一起吃顿饭，喝上一杯，坦诚交流，就已经足够。很神奇的是，很多时候，在大家把问题说出来之后，睡上一觉，第二天早晨答案反而会自然浮现。这样的经历，我有过很多次，我的学生们也常常告诉我，他们有着相同的体会。
如果教授把学生独自留在那里挣扎，那么真正优秀的科研就很难产生。因此，教授必须不断反思自己，不断鞭策自己，让自己变得更好。也许，教授不仅仅是一种职业。更是一种使命。韩国有一句古话：“做一名教师，是一种使命。” 随着年龄越来越大，我也越来越能够理解这句话的含义。
当我把这份工作当作自己的使命之后，内心反而变得更加平静。如果这真的是我热爱的事业，那么，它就是一条值得我一直走下去的道路。
Weekly Column8Cheating and Trust
One of the most important virtues in human life is trust. Trust is built upon belief. Without belief, trust cannot exist. Without trust, no healthy society can function. In the end, perhaps the greatest form of capital that sustains human society is not money, but trust.
The opposite of trust is deception. When people no longer trust one another, they begin to suspect each other. Eventually, deception becomes normalized. Society then spends increasing amounts of time and resources verifying, checking, and protecting itself. As a result, efficiency declines, and everyone becomes exhausted.
What is interesting is that even our philosophical traditions reflect different ways of thinking about this.
In the West, people have traditionally not viewed human beings as inherently perfect. Within the Christian tradition, social institutions developed from the assumption that humans are fundamentally imperfect and prone to wrongdoing. The separation of powers in democratic systems is a good example. Since no one can be completely trusted with power, different branches of government are designed to check and balance one another. The system is built not on perfect trust, but on carefully designed safeguards.
In contrast, Eastern philosophy has long emphasized the goodness of human nature. When I was young, I often wondered, "If people are naturally good, why is the world filled with so much conflict and disorder?" Only later, after reading philosophy and religion more broadly, did I begin to understand. Human beings possess kindness, but they also carry greed, weakness, and temptation. Both exist within us at the same time. Ultimately, both trust and deception are deeply influenced by the kind of society in which people live.
The Korea of my childhood was very different from the Korea of today.
In those days, it was common for neighbors to participate in informal community savings groups. My mother also saved money this way so that she could send me to middle school. One day, however, the person managing the savings disappeared with everyone's money. As a result, I had to give up the school I had hoped to attend and instead entered a small middle school that offered scholarships. At that time, it was also common for taxi drivers to overcharge foreigners. Incidents like these were not unusual.
Today's Korea is very different. If you leave something in a taxi, there is a good chance you will get it back. If you forget your wallet on the subway, someone will often return it. Many people even leave their laptops or mobile phones unattended in cafés without worrying too much.
What created such a transformation?
I am not a sociologist, so I cannot claim to know the exact answer. But I believe that as the economy developed, people gradually reached a point where basic living conditions became more secure. At the same time, trust slowly accumulated throughout society. Of course, people are always capable of taking what belongs to someone else. Yet today, living honestly simply brings greater peace of mind than cheating others for personal gain. Perhaps this is what it means for a society to mature.
It has now been almost two years since I came to China. Every day, I continue to learn something new. As I meet more people, I gain a deeper understanding of Chinese society. Korea and China share many cultural values. Both place great importance on family, and people in both countries work remarkably hard. For that reason, I adapted to life in China more easily than I had expected. I genuinely enjoy working with my colleagues here and have grown very fond of them.
At the same time, building a new research institute has exposed me to another reality. Constructing laboratories and installing sophisticated research equipment has been far more complicated than I anticipated. Even now, the cleanroom is still under construction, and our original plans for the dry room have had to be revised.
Looking back, I realize that the greatest challenge was not technical—it was trust. Even after contracts had been signed, some companies continued trying to modify agreed specifications for various reasons. Reasonable changes are, of course, understandable. But there were also occasions when attempts were made to reduce quality in order to lower costs or alter earlier commitments. Each time this happened, I had to spend countless hours verifying facts and understanding what was really taking place. The greatest loss was not financial. It was the time that should have been devoted to research.
I do not believe this is simply a matter of individual morality. When people live under economic uncertainty, immediate survival naturally takes priority over long-term values. The present becomes more urgent than the future. Yet as societies mature, trust itself becomes one of their greatest competitive advantages. The higher the level of trust, the lower the cost of verification. People are then free to devote their time and energy to more meaningful work. The same principle applies to research, industry, and ultimately to society as a whole.
So how is trust built?
It cannot be created by institutions alone. I believe it begins with the small habits of ordinary people. The habit of refusing to cheat, even over a trivial amount of money. The habit of keeping promises, even when no one is watching. The habit of refusing to compromise simply because "no one will notice."
When these small acts of honesty accumulate, individuals change. Organizations change. Eventually, society changes as well.
The same is true for a research institute. World-class laboratories cannot be built by purchasing world-class equipment alone. They are built when people trust one another, keep their promises, and take responsibility for their work. That is still the kind of institute I hope to build.
And I believe it is one of the reasons I came here. Trust cannot be built overnight. But honesty can begin today—with each one of us.
欺骗与信任
一个人，最重要的品德之一，我想应该就是信任。信任建立在相信之上。没有相信，就不会有信任；没有信任，一个健康的社会风气也难以维系。归根结底，维系人类社会运转的最重要基础，或许不是金钱，而是信任。
信任的反面，是欺骗。当人与人之间失去信任时，人们便开始彼此怀疑。渐渐地，欺骗也会变得习以为常。整个社会不得不投入越来越多的时间和成本去验证、检查、防范，最终导致效率下降，每个人都变得更加疲惫。
有趣的是，不同文明对于人性的理解，也深刻影响着社会制度的形成。在西方，人们传统上并不认为人性是完美的。在基督教文化中，人被认为天生并不完美，甚至容易受到欲望和邪恶的诱惑。因此，许多社会制度都是建立在这一前提之上的。民主制度中的三权分立就是一个典型的例子。正因为没有任何个人能够被完全信任，所以必须通过制度让不同权力彼此制衡，在监督中维持平衡。它所依赖的并不是完美的人性，而是完善的制度。
相反，东方思想长期以来更强调人性的善。小时候，我常常感到疑惑。“如果人性本善，为什么这个世界却充满了矛盾和冲突？”后来，当我长大以后，开始阅读更多哲学和宗教著作，才渐渐有了自己的理解--人既有善良，也有贪婪；既有高尚，也有软弱。这两种力量始终同时存在于每个人心中。因此，信任与欺骗，其实都与一个社会所形成的环境密切相关。
我小时候生活的韩国，与今天已经截然不同。那个年代，邻里之间流行一种共同储蓄的方式，韩国人称之为“契（계）”。母亲为了让我能够读中学，也一点一点地把钱存进去。然而有一天，负责保管这笔钱的人带着所有积蓄消失了。结果，我不得不放弃原本想去的学校，而进入了一所能够提供奖学金的小型中学。那个年代，出租车司机向外国人收取高价车费的事情也并不少见。而今天的韩国，已经发生了很大的变化。如果把东西遗忘在出租车上，大多数情况下都能够找回来；把钱包落在地铁里，也常常有人主动送还；甚至在咖啡馆里，人们把电脑或手机暂时放在桌上，也不会过于担心。
究竟是什么带来了这样的改变？我不是社会学家，因此无法给出准确的答案。但我想，随着经济的发展，人们逐渐拥有了维持基本生活的保障，整个社会的信任也一点一点积累了起来。
当然，人始终都有能力拿走别人的东西。但是，如今诚实地生活，比靠欺骗获得利益，更能让人内心安宁。也许，这就是一个社会逐渐成熟的表现。
来到中国，转眼已经快两年了。每天，我都在学习新的东西，也不断认识新的朋友，对中国社会的理解也越来越深。韩国和中国有许多共同之处。两国都十分重视家庭，人们工作也都非常勤奋。正因为如此，我比自己原先想象的更快适应了这里的生活。我非常喜欢与这里的同事们一起工作，也真心珍惜身边的每一位伙伴。
然而，在建设研究所的过程中，我也看到了另一种现实。实验室建设、科研设备安装，比我想象中复杂得多。直到今天，超净间仍在施工之中，原来的干燥间建设计划也不得不进行了调整。现在回头来看，最大的困难并不是技术。而是信任。即使合同已经签订，一些公司仍然会以各种理由试图修改原来的约定。如果修改的更加合理，那当然没有问题。但有时，也会出现为了降低成本而降低质量，或者改变原有承诺的情况。每当遇到这样的事情，我都不得不花费大量时间去确认、理解事情的经过。最大的损失，并不是金钱，而是那些本应该投入科研工作的时间。
我并不认为，这完全是个人道德的问题。当一个社会仍然面临较大的经济压力时，人们往往首先考虑的是眼前的生存，而不是长远的价值。现实，会压倒理想。然而，一个社会越成熟，信任就越会成为它最重要的竞争力。信任越高，验证的成本就越低。人们便能够把更多时间和精力投入到真正重要的事情上。科研如此，产业如此，整个社会的发展也是如此。
那么，信任究竟是怎样建立起来的？仅仅依靠制度，是远远不够的。我始终认为，它最终还是始于每一个人的小习惯。不因为金额小就去欺骗别人。即使没有人监督，也依然遵守承诺。不因为“反正没人知道”而轻易妥协。当这些微小的诚实不断积累，改变的就不仅仅是一个人。个人会改变，组织会改变，最终，整个社会也会随之改变。
建设一个优秀的研究所，也是同样的道理。世界一流的研究所，并不仅仅依靠世界一流的设备。真正决定它高度的，是研究人员之间彼此信任、信守承诺，并勇于承担责任。这，正是我一直希望建设的研究所。也是我来到这里的重要原因之一。
信任，不可能一夜之间建立。但诚实，可以从今天开始。从我们每一个人开始。
Weekly Column7Good Habits
There is a Korean proverb that says, “A habit formed at the age of three lasts until the age of eighty.” It reminds us how powerful habits can be, and how deeply they shape our lives.
In physics, there is a similar concept: inertia. A moving object tends to keep moving, while a stationary object tends to remain still. Though expressed differently, the underlying idea is remarkably similar.
Habits work in much the same way. Human beings are creatures of repetition. When an action is repeated day after day, it eventually becomes a habit. And when habits accumulate over time, their consequences can be far greater than we imagine.
Everyone carries habits, both big and small. Someone who constantly bites their fingers may eventually change the shape of their fingertips. One of my Chinese students eats sunflower seeds so often that one of his front teeth has developed a visible indentation. People who practice judo for many years often develop thickened, swollen ears due to repeated impact and friction.
Small repetitions eventually change even the body.
There is a well-known idea called the “10,000-hour rule.” If you spend one hour a day on something, it takes about 27 years to reach 10,000 hours. Two hours a day cuts that to around 13 years. If you dedicate six hours a day—excluding meals and rest days—it takes roughly five to six years. Interestingly, that is about the length of time required to complete a Ph.D. Ten thousand hours can transform a person into an expert. Sometimes, it can even change the world.
This is how habits work. Small actions repeated over time eventually reshape who we are. Good habits, when practiced consistently, often lead to extraordinary outcomes. There is a reason why wise people throughout history have emphasized the importance of habits.
When I was young, I attended a middle school in a small rural town. My school was about eight kilometers from home, and in those days I walked there every day. The round trip took more than two hours, and for a young student, the journey often felt unbearably long and boring.
So I found my own solution.
I wrote down English vocabulary words on a small notebook and kept it in my pocket. Whenever the walk became boring, I would take it out and memorize words as I walked. Looking back, many of the English words I still know today were built during those three years.
I also developed another important habit during childhood: reading.
A friend of my older sister worked at an elementary school and often borrowed books from the library for me. Every time I finished one, another would arrive. As a result, I read everything I could find—Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Water Margin, stories of Arsène Lupin, adventures of Sherlock Holmes, historical novels, war stories—anything I could get my hands on. I probably read nearly every book in that small rural school library.
That reading habit stayed with me through middle school, high school, university, and even into my working years. At different times, I immersed myself in poetry, philosophy, and literature.
Looking back now, I believe that habit of reading helped shape who I became. My ability to think deeply and patiently as a scientist may have begun there.
Even now, I remain deeply grateful to the person who brought me those books.
But building good habits is never easy. All of us live with inertia. Existing habits resist change. Whenever we try to build a new habit, the old one pushes back.
Even after spending most of my life doing research, I remember that when I was younger, taking even a few days off would make it difficult to return to writing papers. I had to struggle before regaining momentum. Only after more than thirty years of research has writing become something that feels natural. That is how difficult it is to overcome inertia.
There is a famous story about Kim Yu-sin, the great general who helped unify the Silla Kingdom. In his youth, he became deeply attached to a woman at a tavern and visited her night after night. One evening, while riding on horseback after drinking, he suddenly realized he had once again arrived at her house without consciously deciding to go there. At that moment, he was deeply shaken. He realized he had become a prisoner of habit. According to the story, he made a drastic decision: he killed the horse that had carried him there. It was not an act of anger toward the horse, but a symbolic act of severing his own weakness and breaking a destructive habit. That is how difficult it is to break bad habits.
There is another Korean expression: “Determination lasts only three days.”
Every January, gyms are packed with people determined to exercise. Yet after a month, most gyms become quiet again. Changing habits is difficult.
So I made a rule for myself.
If determination lasts only three days, then I simply begin again every three days.
If I fail, I start over. What matters is not perfection. What matters is refusing to give up.
Building habits is difficult, but once established, their impact can be extraordinary. It is no exaggeration to say that success in life often depends on habits.
As I build this new research institute, I find myself thinking about this constantly.
Building a good institute requires more than simply purchasing excellent equipment. What matters just as much is building the right system and the right culture.
And good culture begins with good habits.
The habit of keeping things clean is directly tied to safety. If a chemical laboratory becomes messy, people stop carefully separating acids and bases. Waste gets discarded carelessly. Eventually, accidents happen.
Even something as simple as leaving a window open in a laboratory can cause serious problems. It wastes energy, allows humidity inside, and can damage sensitive instruments. For laser systems, this can be especially dangerous.
Small actions matter.
The thought, “Just this once won’t matter,” is often the most dangerous.
Once one person makes an exception, the entire system begins to weaken.
On the other hand, when good habits accumulate, equipment lasts longer, laboratories become safer, and a better research environment emerges.
I love doing research. But today, excellent research is increasingly difficult without good equipment and well-functioning systems. That is why I care deeply—perhaps obsessively—about maintaining such systems. I believe young researchers feel the same. In fact, their hunger for research may be even stronger than mine.
Right now, we have been given a rare opportunity to build an outstanding research environment at Hubei University of Technology.
So let us build it together. We do not need to begin with something grand. We begin with small things—one good habit at a time.
After all, great change always begins with small acts repeated consistently.
好习惯
韩国有一句俗语：“三岁看老。”意思是说，一个人在幼年时期形成的习惯，往往会影响一生。这句话提醒我们，习惯的力量远比想象中更大。
在物理学中，也有一个类似的概念——惯性。运动中的物体倾向于保持运动，静止的物体则倾向于保持静止。虽然表达方式不同，但其中蕴含的道理却十分相似。习惯也是如此。
人本质上是重复行为的产物。一个动作日复一日地重复，最终就会成为习惯。而当这些习惯随着时间不断累积，其影响往往远超我们的想象。
每个人都有大大小小的习惯。经常咬手指的人，久而久之甚至会改变手指的形状。我实验室里有一位中国学生，因为长期嗑瓜子，门牙中间已经明显凹陷。练习柔道多年的人，耳朵往往会变得肿胀而厚实，因为反复摩擦和撞击导致耳部组织逐渐硬化。看似微小的重复，最终甚至会改变人的身体。
人们常说“1万小时定律”。如果每天投入1小时，大约需要27年才能累积1万小时；每天2小时，则需要13年左右。如果每天投入6小时，扣除吃饭和休息时间，大约需要5到6年。有趣的是，这个时间长度与完成博士学位所需的时间十分接近。
一万小时，可以让一个人成为专家；有时，甚至足以改变世界。这就是习惯的力量。
微小的行动不断重复，最终会重塑一个人。好的习惯一旦长期坚持，往往能够带来惊人的成果。古往今来，许多智者反复强调习惯的重要性，原因正在于此。
我小时候在乡下的小镇上读初中。学校离家大约8公里。在那个年代，我每天都靠步行上下学。往返一趟需要三个多小时。对一个孩子来说，这段路既漫长又枯燥。于是，我想出了自己的办法。我把每天要背的英语单词抄在一个小本子上，放在口袋里。走路觉得无聊时，就拿出来边走边背。现在回头看，我今天掌握的很多英语词汇，基础其实就是那三年里一点一点积累起来的。
我童年时期还养成了另一个重要习惯：阅读。我姐姐的一位朋友在小学工作，经常从学校图书馆借书给我。每当我读完一本，很快就会有下一本送来。因此，我几乎什么书都读。《三国演义》、《水浒传》、Arsène Lupin的故事、Sherlock Holmes的探案、历史小说、战争故事……只要能拿到手，我就读。我想，那所乡村小学图书馆里的书，大概被我读了大半。我也就养成了阅读的习惯。
阅读的习惯一直伴随着我走过初中、高中、大学，甚至进入工作。不同阶段，我曾沉迷于诗歌、哲学和文学。现在回头看，我相信阅读习惯塑造了今天的我。作为科学家，我之所以能够长期保持深度思考和耐心，也许正是从那个时候开始培养起来的。直到今天，我依然非常感激那位不断给我带来书的人。
然而，培养好习惯从来都不是一件容易的事。我们每个人都活在惯性之中。旧的习惯总会抗拒改变。每当我们试图建立新的习惯，原本的惯性就会产生阻力。
即使我一生都在做研究，我依然记得，年轻时只要休息几天，再回到写论文的状态就会变得非常困难。往往要挣扎许久，才能重新进入节奏。直到做了三十多年研究之后，写论文才逐渐变得像呼吸一样自然。这说明，克服惯性是很大的毅力。
韩国历史上有一个关于Kim Yu-sin将军的著名故事。年轻时，他沉迷于一位酒馆女子，几乎每晚都会去找她。一天晚上，他酒后骑马前行，等回过神来时，发现自己又一次来到了那名女子家门口。那一刻，他受到了极大的震动。他意识到，自己已经成了习惯的俘虏。据说，他做出了一个极端的决定——亲手杀死了载他来到这里的爱马。那并不是对马的愤怒，而是一种象征：他要斩断自己的软弱，彻底摆脱坏习惯。
由此可见，改变坏习惯是多么困难。
韩国还有一句俗语：“决心不过三天。”每年一月，健身房总是挤满了立志锻炼的人。但一个月后，大多数健身房又恢复了冷清。
改变习惯，确实很难。所以，我给自己定下了一条原则。如果决心只能坚持三天，那我就每三天重新开始一次。失败了，就重新开始。重要的不是完美，而是不放弃。
培养习惯很难，但一旦建立起来，它所带来的影响是巨大的。毫不夸张地说，人生的成功往往取决于习惯。
在建设这座新研究所的过程中，我越来越深刻地体会到这一点。建设一个优秀的研究所，绝不仅仅是购买先进设备那么简单。同样重要的是建立正确的体系，以及形成良好的文化。而好的文化，始于好的习惯。
保持整洁的习惯，直接关系到安全。如果化学实验室变得杂乱，人们就不会认真区分酸碱；废弃物被随意丢弃，事故迟早会发生。即使只是实验室里忘记关窗这样的小事，也可能带来严重后果。它不仅浪费资源，还会让湿气进入室内，损害精密设备。对于激光系统而言，这尤其危险。
小事情，往往决定最后的结果。“就这一次没关系。”这种想法，往往最危险。
一旦有人开始例外，整个系统就会逐渐松动。相反，当好的习惯不断累积，设备寿命会延长，实验室会更安全，科研环境也会变得更好。
我热爱科研。但在今天，没有先进的设备和良好的体系，想要做出高水平研究会越来越困难。正因为如此，我对维护这些系统极其重视，甚至可以说近乎执着。我相信，年轻研究者们也有同样的想法。事实上，他们对科研的渴望或许比我更强烈。
此刻，我们正拥有一个难得的机会--在湖北工业大学建立一个卓越的科研环境。所以，让我们一起把它建设好。不需要从宏大的事情开始。从小事做起。从每个人养成一个好习惯开始。因为伟大的改变，往往都始于那些微小却持续不断的重复。
Weekly Column6Mànmànde and Ppalli-Ppalli
In the Chinese language, there is a phrase — "mànmànde（慢慢地）". It means "slowly" or "take your time" and proceeding step by step. This mindset can be felt everywhere in daily life and work.
In contrast, Koreans have a phrase of their own: ppalli-ppalli—“faster, faster.” Growing up immersed in this culture, we are accustomed to acting quickly, making swift decisions and striving for instant results.
I have lived by the "ppalli-ppalli" mindset for most of my life. So when I first came to China, the culture of "mànmànde" left me confused and even a little restless at times.
Years ago, I attended an academic conference in China. The speaker for the afternoon session failed to show up on time. An entire hour passed before he finally arrived. Yet the audience remained remarkably calm. Some sipped tea, others chatted casually, and everyone seemed perfectly at ease with the wait.
That scene left a deep impression on me.
I was used to the pace of academic conferences in Western countries. At a western conference, a bell will ring the moment a speaker exceeds the allotted time. The relaxed, patient atmosphere in China stood in stark contrast to what I had known before.
Meanwhile, the "ppalli-ppalli" culture has long been a powerful driving force behind South Korea’s development. Streamlined administrative procedures, steadily improved execution efficiency, and the ability to hit targets ahead of schedule have all played a vital role in boosting the country’s competitiveness.
Nevertheless, the relentless pursuit of speed eventually takes its toll. Work pressure builds up constantly, the balance between life and work is broken, and productivity may decline in the long run. Perhaps for this reason, South Korean society has in recent years placed growing emphasis on quality of life and personal well-being.
As these two mindsets — mànmànde and ppalli-ppalli — collided, I gradually came to realize that the Chinese way is not merely about being slow. More importantly, people here understand how to wait.
China’s remarkable development over the past few decades could never have been achieved by a purely slow-paced culture. The essence of this mindset, I believe, lies in the ability to stay calm amid uncertainties and unexpected setbacks, and to accept that things do not always go exactly as planned.
During the two years spent building the research institute, I grew anxious and impatient time and again. I kept thinking the institute had to be completed as soon as possible so that scientific research could officially begin. I pushed every process forward relentlessly in an effort to speed up the progress.
Later, I noticed something interesting: the on-site engineers worked extremely hard. Even when temperatures soared above 40 degrees Celsius in the height of summer, they kept working late into the night.
Then why was the overall progress still slower than expected? The answer, I think, lies in the complexity of the entire system. A country on China’s scale inevitably requires extensive coordination, communication and formal procedures, with countless people and departments involved and interconnected.
Specifically, I attribute the situation to two main factors.
The first is the complexity of administrative processes.
The decision to launch the research institute was made very quickly. From meetings with leading officials in Hubei Province to the official approval of the project and the allocation of substantial investment, the whole initial phase moved at a rapid pace.
Yet once implementation began, things became much more complicated. A single decision often goes through multiple rounds of reviews, endless back-and-forth of documents and repeated revisions. Any change means many procedures have to start all over again.
When decisions are made collectively by numerous people, accountability becomes diluted and no one takes clear responsibility. The decision-making chain grows longer, which inevitably hinders overall efficiency.
Korea also has administrative procedures, of course. But once an issue reaches a certain level, a responsible manager is typically empowered to make a final decision.
China’s institutional structure helps maintain organizational stability, but it naturally comes with limitations in terms of execution efficiency.
The second reason lies in differences in what I would call the culture of finishing.
It is often the last 10 percent of details, rather than the preceding 90 percent of work, that determine the quality of a project.
Sometimes people appear to accept suggestions for revisions, yet the problems remain unresolved afterwards. Many tasks are marked as "completed" on paper, but a site visit reveals that numerous details have not been properly addressed.
I do not see this simply as an individual problem. Rather, it reflects a broader cultural issue that develops over many years. Professional pride, personal responsibility, commitment to quality, and a culture that values long-term trust must all evolve together.
Japan spent decades fostering such a culture, and South Korea did the same. These values are built up through generations of education, training and social influence.
To be honest, I still feel anxious and frustrated from time to time. The cleanroom remains under construction, and the exhibition area is not fully finished. Some equipment has arrived but cannot be installed yet, and the institute’s staff are starting to feel worn out.
However, I am learning an important lesson: the methods I have always relied on are not the only right way to do things. Understanding the logic behind different cultures is just as important as the pursuit of efficiency.
Ultimately, what I do is nothing extraordinary. Wherever I am, I simply strive to fulfill my duties as a scientist.
I hope to keep moving forward step by step, and do what I can to help foster a sound scientific culture here in China.
慢慢地与快快地
中文里有一个词——“慢慢地”。它的意思是不着急、一步一步来，无论是在生活还是工作中，人们常常能够感受到这种气质。
与之相对，在韩语中有一个非常有代表性的词——“快快地（빨리빨리）”。从小到大，我们习惯于快速行动、快速决策、快速取得结果。
我大半辈子都生活在“快快地”的文化中。因此，刚来到中国时，“慢慢地”有时让我感到困惑，甚至有些焦躁。
很多年前，我曾在中国参加一次学术会议。下午场的一位报告人没有按时出现。一个小时过去了，他才终于到场。然而，现场的听众却显得异常平静。有人喝茶，有人聊天，大家似乎都很自然地接受了等待这件事。
对我来说，那是一个颇为震撼的场景。
因为我习惯了西方学术会议的节奏。在许多欧美会议上，只要报告时间超出一点，主持人往往就会按铃提醒发言人结束。而眼前这种从容等待的氛围，与我过去熟悉的场景形成了鲜明对比。
而另一方面，“快快地”长期以来一直是推动韩国社会发展的重要文化动力。行政程序相对简化、执行效率不断提高、比计划更早实现目标，这些都在提升国家竞争力方面发挥了重要作用。
然而，持续不断地追求速度，最终会带来疲惫。工作的压力不断累积，生活与工作的平衡被打破，长期来看反而可能降低生产力。或许正因如此，近年来韩国社会开始越来越重视生活质量与个人幸福，也就是“Well-being（幸福生活）”这一概念。
在“慢慢地”与“快快地”两种文化碰撞之下，我渐渐意识到，中国人并不只是“慢”，他们似乎更懂得等待。
中国在过去几十年的发展速度令人惊叹，仅靠“慢”文化并没有办法获得这样的成就。也许，接受并非所有事情都会按照计划进行，面对不确定性和意外情况，依旧保持从容的能力，更接近这种文化的本质。
在建设研究所的两年中，我无数次感到焦虑和急躁。我总觉得，研究所必须尽快建成，科研工作才能真正开始。因此，我一直努力推动每一个环节，希望能够尽可能加快进度。
后来，我发现了一件有趣的事情。现场工作的工程师们其实非常努力，盛夏时节，气温常常超过40摄氏度，他们依然工作到深夜。
那么，为什么整体进度仍然比预期要慢呢？或许问题关键在于整个系统本身的复杂性。像中国这样规模庞大的社会，自然需要大量的协调、沟通和程序，许多人参与其中，许多部门彼此关联。
具体来讲，我认为主要有两个原因。
第一，是行政流程的复杂性。
研究所成立的决定本身其实做得非常快。从与湖北省相关领导会面，到研究所正式立项并获得大规模投资支持，整个过程推进得相当迅速。
然而，当项目进入具体实施阶段后，情况就变得复杂起来。一个决定往往需要经过多轮审批、文件往返以及反复修改，一旦出现变动，许多流程又需要重新开始。
当决策由许多人共同完成时，责任也会被共同分散，责任主体不明确，决策链条越来越长，整体效率自然会受到影响。
韩国同样有行政程序。但通常在达到一定层级之后，具有明确责任的管理者会作出最终决定。
中国这种结构有助于维持组织稳定，但在执行效率方面，也存在其天然的局限。
第二，则是“收尾文化”的差异。
有时候真正决定项目品质的，并不是前面90%的工作，而是最后那10%的细节。
有些问题提出修改意见之后，当时似乎接受了；但过了一段时间，问题依然存在。很多事情在文件里已经显示“完成”，但实际去现场查看时，却发现仍有不少细节没有做到位。
工程师的职业自豪感、追求卓越的态度，以及对长期信誉的重视，都需要经过漫长时间的积累与培养。日本用了数十年建立这样的文化，韩国也是如此。这种文化是经过几十年的教育、训练和社会学习，才逐渐形成的。
坦率地说，现在我依然会感到焦虑。
超净间工程仍在继续，展示空间尚未完全完工。一些设备已经到货，却仍然无法安装，研究所成员们也开始感受到疲惫。
但与此同时，我也正在学习一件事：我所熟悉的方法，并不一定就是唯一正确的方法。理解不同文化背后的逻辑，也许和追求效率本身一样重要。
归根结底，我要做的事情并不伟大。只是无论身处何地，都尽自己作为科学家的责任。
我希望能够这样继续前行，一步一步地，尽自己微薄的力量，为中国更加健康的科学文化建设贡献一点点价值。
Weekly Column5Choices in Life
As people move through life, they are constantly faced with choices at countless crossroads. The longer one lives, the more decisions one must make—sometimes so many that they feel almost overwhelming.
My first major choice came during middle school. Because of my family’s financial situation, I could not afford tuition, so I had no choice but to attend a middle school that offered scholarships. High school was no different. I ended up attending a public high school because it required no tuition fees.
Not long after graduating from high school, I decided to prepare for university while working full-time. At the time, becoming a civil servant was considered a stable and respectable path, and everyone around me thought it was a good choice. But before long, a question suddenly came to mind:
“What will I be in the future if I continue living like this?”
The answer was not difficult to find. I only had to look at the older colleagues around me. I could already see what my life would look like ten years later. It was stable, but repetitive—like running endlessly on a treadmill. Comfortable perhaps, but strangely lifeless. I realized I did not want that kind of life.
That was the first major choice of my life.
Looking back, it may have been one of the most important decisions I ever made. I decided to go to university, and that decision ultimately shaped the person I am today.
Getting into university was difficult, but nothing in life comes free. Working all day and studying at night while preparing for university was exhausting. Eventually my health deteriorated, and I had to give up my dream of entering the Korean Military Academy. I passed the written examination but failed the physical examination. Ironically, instead of becoming a soldier, I ended up becoming a scientist. It was my decision, yet at the same time, life unfolded in ways I had not intended.
The moment I made the most decisive choice by my own will came during my second year of university. Because I lacked tuition money, I had worked while attending school during my first year. When I entered my second year, I asked one of my professors if I could continue balancing work and study. He answered firmly:
“You must choose one or the other.”
The next day, I submitted my resignation. That was the second major choice of my life.
At that time, I was not afraid of money. What frightened me more was losing the opportunity to study. Fortunately, from that point until graduation, I was able to continue receiving scholarships. Somehow, life always finds a way forward.
From then on, those years became some of the happiest in my life, because I was finally able to study what I truly wanted. Even after completing military service, I wanted to continue studying. But at that time in Korea, graduate school scholarships were extremely limited. The only realistic option was to study abroad. In many ways, that too felt inevitable.
As the eldest son, I did not have the luxury of spending too much time deciding. I needed to finish my degree quickly and return home to help support my family. Back then, earning a Ph.D. abroad also made it much easier to become a professor in Korea than it is today.
Looking back, the research environment in Korea at that time was extremely challenging. Conducting serious research at universities was not easy. It took nearly ten years before I finally felt that I was doing “real research.” Gradually, I secured research funding, and people around me began to say that I was becoming successful as a researcher.
Then, during my sabbatical in the United States, I had the opportunity to collaborate with Professor Richard Smalley, a Nobel laureate. That was when I became deeply fascinated by carbon nanotube research. After returning to Korea, I fully committed myself to experimental research. That was my third major choice. Looking back, it was an enormous gamble. But I simply loved it—almost recklessly so. It was exciting, and I genuinely wanted to do it.
Fortunately, my research progressed well and produced meaningful results. At the time, I even received attractive offers from other universities, but I was not greatly tempted because I already had sufficient research funding and a strong research environment. Then one day, a thought suddenly crossed my mind:
“I’m afraid of entering a new environment.”
At that moment, I felt disappointed in myself. I disliked the fact that I had begun fearing new challenges. So I made up my mind to move into a completely new environment. That became the fourth major choice of my life.
After that, many other choices followed. Accepting the position of research center director at the Institute for Basic Science, and later moving to Hubei University of Technology, were certainly not easy decisions.
But when I look back, the reasons behind my choices were always surprisingly simple.
Before moving to China, I had many conversations with my family. There were concerns about my elderly mother and many practical matters to consider. Yet the question my family asked me was unexpectedly simple:
“Do you think you’ll be happy working there?”
Perhaps life is ultimately about that. Everyone makes choices in pursuit of their own happiness. Of course, the word “happiness” is somewhat vague. But perhaps it can ultimately be reduced to a much simpler question:
“Do you like it?”
If I truly like something, that itself becomes happiness. Research was no different for me. If I genuinely enjoyed a research topic, I rarely worried about how influential it might become or how much money it might generate. If it was exciting, I pursued it. I simply followed my curiosity.
Of course, loving something does not mean one can continue doing it forever. Even now, I still love research. Perhaps that is one reason why I am here in China today. But I am also getting older. I know I cannot continue in the same way forever.
Still, I have one remaining ambition. Before I die, I want to produce at least one truly impactful piece of research. I want to prove to myself that I am still alive intellectually. At the very least, I would like to believe that I have not yet lost my mind. ^^
Working at Hubei University of Technology, I meet many different researchers—new graduate students, current students, young professors. All of them carry their own concerns and anxieties. That is natural. Perhaps it is simply part of being young.
But one thing I find interesting is how overwhelmingly practical most people have become. Perhaps this is the result of intense competition and survival pressures. Many students seem unable to imagine a larger vision for themselves. I rarely see deep obsession or persistence. Few students remain in the laboratory late into the night.
Even decisions about graduate school are often based primarily on future employment prospects. Of course, making a living is important. But before making such choices, I believe everyone should ask themselves at least once:
“What do I truly like?”
Popular fields constantly change with time. In the past, medicine and law were considered the most prestigious careers. Today, AI is rapidly taking that position. Years ago, people would first go to doctors for answers; now many first ask AI before making decisions.
Today, semiconductors and batteries dominate attention, but that trend will not last forever either. Choosing a field is important in the long run, but the world constantly changes. There is no need to become overly emotional about temporary trends.
The more important question is this:
“What do I truly love?”
Young professors often face a similar problem. Many continue working in the exact same field they studied with their advisors during graduate school because it feels safest and easiest. If the field remains popular, things work out well enough. But if not, people gradually begin producing papers simply for the sake of publishing papers.
The deeper question—“How does my research contribute to society?”—slowly disappears. Before they realize it, they become trapped in the same repetitive cycle. Eventually, they confine themselves within the limitations of their environment at Hubei University of Technology.
That is why I want to ask every researcher in the institute one simple question:
“Is the research you are doing truly the research you love?”
If the answer is “yes,” then you are already a very fortunate person.
But if the answer is “no,” then perhaps it is time to gather the courage to choose a new adventure.
Now, we are finally beginning to build a truly good research environment. If so, perhaps this is the right moment to try pursuing the research you genuinely want to do—even if only once.
人生的选择
人生在世，人们总会在无数个岔路口做出选择。活得越久，需要面对的决定也越多。有时候，甚至多到让人感到难以承受。
我人生中的第一个选择，发生在初中时期。因为家境困难，无法负担学费，所以我只能选择一所能够提供奖学金的中学。高中也是如此。我最终进入了一所免学费的国立高中。
高中毕业后不久，我决定一边工作一边准备大学考试，于是我成为了一名公务员。那个年代，公务员是一份稳定而受人羡慕的职业，周围的人都认为这是一个不错的选择。但没过多久，我突然开始思考一个问题：
“如果我一直这样生活下去，将来会变成什么样？”
答案并不难找到。我只需要看看身边的前辈们就明白了。我几乎可以清楚地看到自己十年后的样子。那是一种稳定却重复的生活，像在永远转动的齿轮里循环。也许很安稳，但总让人觉得缺少生命力。我不喜欢那样的人生。
那是我人生中的第一个重要选择。
现在回头看，那或许是我最重要的决定之一。正是从那时起，我下定决心去上大学，而那个决定，最终塑造了今天的我。
进入大学并不容易，世界上从来没有免费的东西。白天工作、晚上学习，一边准备大学，一边维持生活，是一件非常辛苦的事。最终，我的身体也开始出现问题，不得不放弃进入韩国陆军士官学校的梦想。虽然通过了笔试，却在体检中被淘汰。
有些讽刺的是，我最终没有成为军人，而是走上了科学家的道路。这是我自己的选择，但同时，人生也并没有完全按照我的计划前进。
真正意义上最坚定地按照自己意志做出的选择，发生在大学二年级。
因为没有足够的学费，我在大学一年级期间一直同时兼顾工作与学习。到了二年级时，我向专业教授请求，希望能够继续兼顾两边。但教授非常坚定地对我说：
“你必须选择其中一个。”
第二天，我就辞掉了工作。
那是我人生中的第二个重要选择。
那时候，我并不害怕没有钱。我更害怕的是失去学习的机会。幸运的是，从那之后直到毕业，我一直都能够获得奖学金。人生有时候就是这样，总会找到一条路。
从那时开始，我度过了一段真正幸福的时光，因为我终于能够自由地学习自己真正想学的东西。
服完兵役之后，我仍然想继续读书。但在那个年代的韩国，研究生奖学金几乎不存在，因此如果想继续深造，唯一现实的办法就是出国留学。从某种意义上来说，那也是一种必然的选择。
作为家中的长子，我没有太多犹豫和试错的空间。我必须尽快完成学位，回国帮助家庭。那个时代，如果能在海外获得博士学位，在韩国成为大学教授要比今天容易得多。
现在回想起来，当时韩国的科研环境其实相当艰苦。在大学里真正开展高水平研究并不是一件容易的事。大约又过了十年，我才终于开始觉得自己真正进入了“研究”的状态。研究经费逐渐增加，周围的人也开始说我做得不错。
后来，在赴美国的学术休假期间，我有机会与诺贝尔奖得主 Richard Smalley教授合作研究。正是在那个时期，我第一次真正对碳纳米管研究产生了强烈兴趣。回到韩国之后，我便正式投入到实验研究之中。
那是我人生中的第三个重要选择。现在回头看，那其实是一场相当大的赌博。但我当时几乎是带着一种近乎鲁莽的热情去做的。因为我真的喜欢，真的觉得有趣。
幸运的是，研究进展得很好，也取得了不错的成果。当时其他大学也曾向我发出很好的邀请，但我并没有太过动摇，因为我已经拥有相对稳定的研究经费与研究环境。
可就在某一天，一个念头忽然浮现在脑海里：
“原来我正在害怕进入新的环境。”
那一刻，我对自己感到失望。我不喜欢那个开始害怕挑战的自己。于是，我立刻决定再次进入新的环境。
那成为了我人生中的第四个重要选择。
此后，我的人生里又出现了无数新的选择。无论是接受基础科学研究院研究中心主任的职位，还是后来来到湖北工业大学，都绝不是轻松的决定。
但回头看，我做出这些选择的理由，其实始终很简单。
尤其是在来中国之前，我和家人谈了很多。关于年迈的母亲，关于家庭，也有许多现实问题需要考虑。但家人问我的问题却意外地简单：
“如果去了那里工作，你会幸福吗？”
也许人生最终就是如此。每个人都在为属于自己的幸福做选择。
当然，“幸福”这个词本身其实很模糊。但换一种表达方式，它或许最终只是一个简单的问题：
“Do you like it?”
如果我真的喜欢，那本身就是幸福。
对研究也是一样。如果是我真正喜欢的研究，我很少会去计算它最终会带来多大影响，或者能赚多少钱。只要有趣，我就会去做。我只是顺着自己的好奇心前进。
当然，喜欢并不意味着可以永远持续下去。即使现在，我依然热爱研究。也许这正是我今天来到中国的原因之一。但我也在慢慢变老。我知道自己不可能永远以同样的方式做研究。
不过，我心里仍然保留着一个小小的执念。在离开这个世界之前，我仍然希望能够做出至少一个真正有影响力的研究成果。我想向自己证明，我依然“活着”。至少，希望自己还没有真正老到失去思考能力吧。^^
在湖北工业大学工作期间，我遇到了各种各样的研究者。新来的研究生、在读学生、年轻教授，每个人都带着各自的烦恼生活着。这其实很正常。某种意义上，也许这本来就是年轻人的特征。
但有一件事让我印象很深：大多数人都过于现实。
也许这是因为生存压力太激烈了。很多学生缺少更大的愿景，也缺少一种不断深挖问题的执着。很少有人会在晚上继续留在实验室。
很多人选择读研究生，也主要是为了未来就业。当然，生存问题非常重要。但至少在做决定之前，我觉得每个人都应该先问自己一次：
“我真正喜欢的东西，到底是什么？”
热门专业总会随着时代不断变化。过去，医生和律师曾经是最受欢迎的职业；如今，AI正在迅速取代那个位置。过去，人们生病时首先会去问医生；现在，很多人会先去问AI。
今天，半导体和电池领域很热门，但它们也不可能永远如此。选择专业固然重要，但世界始终在变化，所以其实没有必要对一时的潮流过度焦虑。
真正更重要的问题，其实是：
“我真正热爱的，到底是什么？”
年轻教授们其实也面临类似的问题。很多人在研究生阶段跟随导师进入某个研究方向，成为教授之后，也继续沿着同样的方向前进。因为那是最安全、最容易的道路。
如果幸运的话，这个领域仍然热门，那么一切还算顺利。但如果不是，很多人最终就会慢慢变成“为了论文而写论文”。
“我的研究究竟能为社会带来什么贡献？”这个问题，也会越来越远。直到某一天，人们不知不觉间，就把自己困在了重复运转的齿轮之中，也困在了湖北工业大学这个环境本身的局限里。
所以，我想向研究所里的所有研究者问一个问题：
“你现在正在做的研究，真的是你自己热爱的研究吗？”
如果答案是“Yes”，那么你其实已经是一个非常幸福的人了。
但如果答案是否定的，那么也许现在正是时候，鼓起勇气，去选择一次新的冒险。
如今，我们已经开始拥有一个相当不错的研究环境。那么，至少应该给自己一次机会，去真正尝试做自己想做的研究，不是吗？
Weekly Column4LQM Institute's Operational Strategy
LQM Institute's vision differs from that of traditional research institutions, and its operational strategy will inevitably be different as well.
One of the most distinctive features of LQM Institute is the integration of ultra-clean rooms, dry rooms, chemical laboratories, and advanced nano-research equipment all concentrated within the same space. From material synthesis and basic physical property characterization to device fabrication, almost the entire research workflow can be completed in one place. In other words, once researchers enter the institute, they can truly achieve a “one-stop research” model.
Therefore, the core of this institute naturally lies in its various scientific research equipment. This also directly leads to the institute’s most important operational challenge: how to efficiently manage and maintain over a hundred precision instruments.
To truly achieve this, high-level professional technical staff are indispensable. However, in the practical environment of a university system, building a professional technical team of sufficient scale is not easy. Even if it can be achieved, it will require a considerable amount of time. Therefore, at this stage, we have no choice but to rely more on the faculty members and graduate students participating in the institute.
Currently, there are approximately thirty professors participating in the institute, while the number of graduate students who have truly joined is fewer than ten. Although the university is working hard to expand graduate enrollment, this cannot be realized in the short term and still requires a long-term development strategy. Fortunately, if the current development trend continues, the scale of graduate students is expected to gradually increase starting from the second half of next year. At the same time, we are currently recruiting four equipment engineers.
The renovation project of the research building has also basically completed the most fundamental infrastructure construction. Various equipment is arriving one after another and installation has begun. Of course, due to delays in the ultra-clean room and dry room projects, the installation of some equipment has had to be postponed accordingly. But some things cannot be solved simply by “speeding up.” Many times, time itself is part of the entire process. Nevertheless, I still hope that most of the work can be completed before the institute is officially established—although there is still a long way to go at present.
Thus, the most critical question emerges: how exactly should such a massive equipment system be operated and managed?
The simplest method is to hand over the equipment to the relevant professors for management. In fact, many universities operate this way. However, doing so often leads to equipment gradually becoming the “private resource” of a certain laboratory rather than a shared platform for the institute. Equipment utilization efficiency declines, and other researchers find it difficult to use these instruments freely. Over time, the equipment will effectively be “monopolized” by certain professors or teams.
Of course, if these devices can be well utilized and continue to produce excellent results, that would naturally be fortunate. But the real problems often arise after equipment failures. The maintenance costs for high-end instruments are usually very expensive, and many schools find it difficult to sustain them long-term. In the end, expensive equipment is often left idle or even abandoned.
I have seen this situation many times in Korea. Many universities invested huge sums to build high-end TEM platforms, but a few years later, these instruments could no longer operate normally due to a lack of continuous maintenance. Universities spend enormous amounts to build advanced platforms, but without a long-term operational strategy, these systems can easily fall into paralysis.
To solve this problem, the university where I previously worked, Sungkyunkwan University, established a Central Instrumentation Center where the school centrally manages the equipment, and researchers use it on a paid basis. Nowadays, more and more universities in China are adopting similar models, with Wuhan University being one of them. This model is undoubtedly more efficient than completely relying on individual laboratory management. However, it also brings new problems: graduate students find it difficult to truly learn how to operate the instruments. Students often just send samples to the instrumentation center, pay the usage fee, and then wait for the data to be returned. For simple data, they may still perform basic analysis; but real scientific research often requires a deeper understanding of the equipment principles and the data analysis process. As a result, many students, upon graduation, have not actually mastered the instruments they relied on.
I often see students who, after graduating and entering universities or research institutions, discover that they lack sufficient technical understanding of instruments when they truly need to build and operate experimental platforms themselves.
So, what is the solution?
When I served as the director of a research center at the Institute for Basic Science in Korea, I also faced similar problems. At that time, thanks to the government’s long-term stable and large-scale support, as well as the full cooperation of the school, we had the opportunity to try a new operational model. The solution I proposed back then was actually relatively simple: actively cultivate participating faculty members and experienced graduate students, turning them into “super-users.” These super-users not only master the equipment itself in depth but also take responsibility for training other users and naturally participate in collaborative research.
The greatest advantage of this system is that graduate students are no longer mere equipment users but gradually grow into true equipment experts. This will become a huge competitive advantage for their future development.
Of course, this model also has obvious drawbacks—it requires a significant investment of time and energy. But as their understanding of the equipment deepens, they can obtain more complex and higher-quality data and perform deeper data analysis. At the same time, they naturally become important members in collaborative research and play a key role in paper work.
Many times, super-users also need to invest extra time to help and support other researchers. Therefore, providing additional personnel and funding support for super-users is also very necessary.
For this system to truly operate effectively, the faculty members responsible for the relevant equipment must themselves possess sufficient professional competence. Only then can they properly train the students.
Another key role is that of the engineers.
By cultivating professional instrument engineers, even after graduate students graduate and leave, the institute can still maintain a stable and continuous equipment training system in the long term. More importantly, when equipment problems occur, there must be someone who can analyze the causes and perform real fault diagnosis and resolution. This requires not only engineers but also faculty members with deep technical understanding and practical experience.
In the final analysis, I believe that engineers are the true core of LQM Institute’s successful operation. Faculty members are responsible for research direction and talent cultivation, while engineers are responsible for equipment maintenance, troubleshooting, new equipment development and improvement, super-user training, safety education, and data analysis. Especially considering that LQM Institute itself is an international research environment where many foreign researchers will collaborate long-term, English communication skills are equally essential.
But ultimately, what truly determines whether the institute can operate successfully is still the “human” investment and dedication. Relying on engineers alone is not enough. Young professors, graduate students, administrative staff—all members must work together for the system to truly function.
Establishing a new system has never been easy. In the end, the most difficult part is not the equipment itself, but changing our way of thinking and the long-established scientific research culture we are accustomed to.
LQM研究所的运营战略
LQM研究所的愿景与传统研究机构有所不同，它的运行战略也必然会有所不同。
LQM研究所最鲜明的特点之一，是将超净间、干燥间、化学实验室以及先进的纳米研究设备集中、整合在同一个空间之中。从材料合成、基础物性表征、到器件制备，几乎整个研究流程都可以在一个地方完成。换句话说，研究人员进入研究所后，可以真正实现“one-stop research（一站式科研）”的研究模式。
因此，这个研究所的核心，自然是各种科研设备。而这也直接引出了研究所最重要的运营问题：如何高效地管理和维护这一百多台精密仪器。
要真正做到这一点，高水平的专业技术人员是必不可少的。然而，在大学体系的现实环境中，要建立足够规模的专业技术团队并不容易。即使能够实现，也需要相当长的时间。因此，在现阶段，我们不得不更多地依赖参与研究所的教师与研究生。
目前，参与研究所的教授大约有三十位，而真正加入研究所的研究生人数还不到十人。学校虽然正在努力扩大研究生招生，但这并不是短时间内就能实现的，还是需要一个长期的发展战略。幸运的是，如果目前的发展趋势能够持续下去，预计从明年下半年开始，研究生规模将逐渐增加。同时，我们目前也正在招聘四名设备工程师。
研究楼的改造工程也已经基本完成了最基本的基础设施建设。各种设备正陆续到位并开始安装。当然，由于超净间和干燥间工程的延迟，部分设备安装工作也不得不随之推迟。但有些事情，并不是单纯依靠“加快速度”就能解决的。很多时候，时间本身也是整个过程的一部分。尽管如此，我仍然希望大部分工作能够在研究所正式成立之前完成——虽然目前这仍然有很长的路要走。
于是，一个最关键的问题便摆在了面前：如此庞大的设备体系，究竟应该如何运营与管理？
最简单的方法，是将设备分别交由相关教授管理。事实上，许多大学都是这样运作的。但这样做往往会导致设备逐渐变成某个实验室的“私人资源”，而不是研究所共享的平台。设备利用效率下降，其他研究人员也难以自由使用这些仪器。久而久之，设备实际上会被某些教授或团队所“垄断”。
当然，如果这些设备能够被很好地利用，并持续产出优秀成果，那自然是幸运的。但真正的问题往往出现在设备故障之后。高端仪器的维修费用通常非常昂贵，很多学校难以长期承担。最终，昂贵的设备往往被闲置甚至废弃。
这样的情况，我在韩国见过很多次。许多大学曾投入巨额经费用于建设高端TEM平台，但几年之后，这些设备却因为缺乏持续维护而无法正常运行。大学花费巨资建设先进平台，但如果缺乏长期运营战略，最终这些系统很容易陷入停摆。
为了解决这个问题，我之前所在的成均馆大学建立了中央仪器中心，由学校统一管理设备，研究人员则通过付费方式使用。如今，中国也有越来越多大学开始采用类似模式，武汉大学也是其中之一。这种模式无疑比完全依赖个人实验室管理更有效率。但与此同时，它又带来了新的问题：研究生很难真正学习如何操作仪器。学生们往往只是把样品送到仪器中心，支付使用费用，然后等待数据返回。对于简单的数据，也许还能进行基本分析；但真正的科研往往需要对设备原理与数据分析过程有更深层次的理解。结果是，许多学生在毕业时，其实并没有真正掌握他们所依赖的仪器。
我经常看到一些学生毕业后进入大学或研究机构，在真正需要自己建设与运行实验平台时，才发现自己缺乏足够的仪器技术理解。
那么，解决方案是什么？
我在韩国担任基础科学研究院研究中心主任时，也曾面对类似的问题。当时，由于政府长期稳定的大规模支持，以及学校的全面配合，我们才有机会尝试新的运行模式。我当时提出的解决方案其实相对简单：积极培养参与研究的教师与经验丰富的研究生，让他们成为“超级用户（super-user）”。这些超级用户不仅深入掌握设备本身，还负责培训其他使用者，并自然地参与到合作研究之中。
这一体系最大的优点在于，研究生不再只是简单的设备使用者，而会逐渐成长为真正的设备专家。这对他们未来的发展会成为巨大的竞争优势。
当然，这种模式也有明显的缺点——它需要投入大量时间与精力。但随着他们对设备理解的不断加深，他们能够获得更加复杂和高质量的数据，也能进行更深入的数据分析。与此同时，他们也会自然成为合作研究中的重要成员，并在论文工作中发挥关键作用。
很多时候，超级用户还需要额外投入大量时间帮助和支持其他研究人员。因此，为超级用户提供额外的人力经费支持，也是非常必要的。
而要让这一系统真正有效运行，负责相关设备的教师本身也必须具备足够的专业能力。只有这样，才能真正训练好学生。
另一个关键角色，则是工程师。
通过培养专业的仪器工程师，即使研究生毕业离开之后，研究所依然能够长期维持稳定而持续的设备培训体系。更重要的是，当设备出现问题时，必须有人能够分析原因并完成真正的 故障诊断与解决。这不仅需要工程师，也需要教师拥有深厚的技术理解与实践经验。
归根结底，我认为工程师才是LQM研究所成功运营的真正核心。教师负责研究方向与人才培养，而工程师则负责设备维护、故障处理、新设备开发与改进、超级用户培训、安全教育以及数据分析等工作。尤其是考虑到LQM研究所本身就是一个国际化科研环境，许多外国研究人员将在这里长期合作，因此英语沟通能力同样是必不可少的。
但最终，真正决定研究所能否成功运行的，仍然是“人”的投入与奉献。仅靠工程师是不够的。年轻教授、研究生、行政人员——所有成员都必须共同努力，系统才可能真正运转起来。
建立一个新的体系，从来都不是容易的事情。归根结底，最困难的，并不是设备本身，而是改变我们的思维方式，以及改变我们长期习惯的科研文化。
Weekly Column3Vision of the LQM Institute
In general, vision of the research institute is somewhat different from that of university.
At its core, the mission of a university is education and research. A university exists to educate students and prepare them for the future. That education is not simply about satisfying intellectual curiosity; it also includes helping students acquire the skills and capabilities needed to live and work in society. In modern society, this latter role has become increasingly important. Society has become more complex, and without technological innovation, it is difficult for a nation to maintain competitiveness. Ultimately, without nurturing the next generation of researchers, it is impossible to prepare for the future. This is one of the reasons why research-oriented universities continue to emerge.
As the importance of research has grown, universities have created various forms of research institutes. Their purpose is to develop new technologies and scientific breakthroughs demanded by society. New discoveries and innovations are naturally transferred to students, accelerating the circulation of knowledge and technological progress throughout society.
As research becomes more central, research structures also become more diverse. At the same time, the role of professors has become more important than ever before.
The role of professors and researchers differs from country to country. In the United States, the academic system is structured around assistant professors, associate professors, and full professors, with a tenure-track system designed to rigorously evaluate a researcher’s competitiveness during the early years. Typically, after about five years of evaluation, those who do not pass must leave the university. Korea essentially follows the same model, although the reality is somewhat different. While the structure appears similar, more than 90% of professors ultimately pass the review process. Different universities adopt different standards and practices. Regardless of the system, however, researchers face intense competition and enormous pressure.
One weakness of this system is that even highly successful laboratories may disappear entirely when a professor leaves the institution. Research continuity and accumulated expertise can easily be lost. At the same time, the system has strengths. It functions as a form of self-correcting mechanism that helps maintain a certain level of research quality. What is particularly interesting in the American system is that professors, regardless of rank, are fundamentally independent researchers. Whether a young assistant professor or a senior full professor, each person is expected to lead and take responsibility for their own research.
The Chinese system is somewhat different. Although the structure includes lecturers, associate professors, and full professors, the research environment tends to be more hierarchical and centered around the full professor. Full professors typically oversee research directions, funding, and research outputs. In many ways, this resembles the traditional systems found in Germany or Japan.
The advantage of this leader-centered structure is that leadership becomes critically important. Under a strong leader, younger researchers can grow together, and the continuity of the laboratory can be maintained over long periods of time. However, there are also clear disadvantages. If the leader lacks capability, the researchers beneath them are inevitably affected as well. In some cases, talented young researchers may not be able to fully develop their own potential. For this reason, more universities in China have recently begun adopting systems that resemble the more independent American model. In the end, it is a matter of what kind of structure one chooses to build.
University research institutes are also fundamentally different from general research institutes. In a conventional research institute, research itself is the primary objective. Depending on government policy and mission, these institutes may focus on basic science, applied research, or industrial collaboration.
So what identity should the LQM Institute pursue?
The LQM Institute was established through the strong support of Hubei University of Technology and Hubei Province. It has its own independent research building and is equipped with a broad range of facilities for low-dimensional materials research, including material synthesis, atomic and electronic structure analysis, optical characterization, electrical and spin transport measurements, and energy storage and production technologies. What makes the institute particularly unique is its ambition to become a global research hub—one capable of supporting world-class collaborative research involving scientists from around the world.
The institute continues to recruit researchers internationally, but at present, many of the active participants are young teachers from the School of Materials Science and Chemical Engineering, the School of Science, and the School of Electric Engineering.
Then what should be the vision of these young researchers?
I faced similar questions in Korea while serving as the director of a research center at the Institute for Basic Science. At the time, the center received special government support while remaining affiliated with university, somewhat similar in structure to the Max Planck Institutes in Germany. From the outside, the research goals and direction appeared clear. But internally, establishing a coherent identity was never easy.
There was always tension between the broader research direction defined by the institute and the individual research interests of participating professors. Young teachers are often hesitant to move into entirely new research areas. The life of a pioneer is never easy. Moreover, universities typically demand visible outcomes such as publication numbers, while research institutes hope for larger breakthroughs that can change the field itself. Universities often value quantity, whereas institutes seek depth and originality. Young researchers inevitably struggle between these two expectations.
The LQM Institute faces similar challenges.
An additional complexity is that the young teachers participating in the institute are already connected to existing research structures within their own departments and senior professors. By joining LQM, they effectively become part of another organizational system with another director. In some sense, they suddenly have one more “boss.”
The university, having invested heavily in the institute, naturally expects meaningful results. It hopes to see outstanding publications and the growth of talented young teachers. But such achievements cannot be produced overnight. Ultimately, the most important task is to build a strong and sustainable system over the long term.
After thinking deeply about these issues, my own conclusion has become relatively simple.
First, to strengthen the overall research capability of the university. From the university’s perspective, this also means attracting outstanding international researchers and creating a new scientific culture through global collaboration.
Second, to maximize the potential of young teachers. To achieve this, we must pursue not merely a larger number of papers, but research of higher quality and greater significance. In the end, what matters is not how many papers one publishes, but whether the research itself is meaningful. Ultimately, the goal is for young researchers to grow into independent leaders through their own work.
Of course, not every researcher’s topic needs to perfectly align with the institute’s central direction. The themes valued by the institute and the topics in which individual researchers are most competitive may differ. However, everyone should ask themselves at least once: Is my research truly contributing something meaningful to society, or is it simply research for the sake of publication?
In the end, what matters most is producing meaningful research outcomes.
In this sense, the horizontal structure of the American system has clear advantages compared to a more vertical structure. Research must ultimately begin from individual creativity and independence.
My role, as a leader, is to present a broader vision and new possibilities. I can suggest directions when necessary, but ultimately researchers must think and choose for themselves. As someone with more experience, I can offer advice, but fundamentally I believe research should develop within a horizontal and collaborative environment.
I still have research questions that I personally want to challenge myself with. If necessary, I will continue conducting research directly together with students and young researchers who share the same vision. At the same time, I personally wish to avoid the practice of simply placing my name on the achievements of younger researchers without meaningful scientific contribution. In that respect, my approach differs somewhat from more traditional hierarchical systems.
And I hope that young researchers, too, will not simply follow research directed by someone else, but will grow into scientists who think independently, make their own choices, and lead their own paths forward.
LQM研究所的愿景
一般来说，研究所的愿景与大学的愿景并不完全相同。
大学最根本的使命，归根结底是教育与研究。大学存在的意义，是培养学生，为未来做准备。而教育不仅仅是满足知识上的好奇心，它还包括帮助学生获得在社会中生存与发展的能力与技能。在现代社会中，后者的重要性正变得越来越突出。社会日益复杂，如果没有技术创新，一个国家便很难保持竞争力。归根结底，如果不能培养下一代科研人才，就无法真正为未来做好准备。这也是研究型大学不断涌现的重要原因之一。
随着研究的重要性不断提升，大学内部也逐渐建立起各种形式的研究机构。其目的，是为了创造社会所需要的新技术与新突破。而新的科研成果与技术创新，又会自然地传递给学生，从而加快整个社会知识与技术循环的速度。
研究越被重视，研究体系也就越多样化。同时，教授的角色也变得比以往任何时候都更加重要。
不同国家中，教授与研究者的角色定位并不相同。在美国，大学通常采用助理教授、副教授、正教授的体系，并通过 tenure-track 制度严格评估研究者的竞争力。通常经过约五年的考核，如果无法通过，就必须离开学校。韩国基本上也采用类似制度，只是实际运行方式略有不同。虽然形式上相似，但现实中超过90%的教授最终都能通过审查。不同学校有各自不同的标准与操作方式。无论在哪种制度下，研究者都必须付出巨大的努力，并承受巨大的压力。
这种制度的缺点在于，即便一个教授做出了非常优秀的研究，一旦他离开学校，整个实验室也可能随之消失。研究的连续性与长期积累很容易中断。但与此同时，它也有明显的优点。它像一种自我”净化”机制，能够持续维持一定水平以上的研究竞争力。
而美国体系中最有意思的一点是：无论职级高低，教授本质上都是独立的研究者。无论是年轻的助理教授，还是资深的正教授，都必须独立负责自己的研究方向与成果。
中国的体系则有所不同。虽然同样存在讲师、副教授和正教授的结构，但整体研究体系更接近一种以正教授为中心的垂直结构。正教授通常主导研究方向、研究经费以及研究成果的整合。这一点与德国或日本的传统研究体系有相似之处。
这种以“导师”为中心的结构，其优势在于领导者的作用极其重要。在优秀领导者的带领下，年轻研究者能够共同成长，实验室的连续性也得以保持。但它同样存在明显的问题。如果领导者能力不足，其下属研究者也会受到影响。有时，优秀的年轻研究者甚至无法充分发挥自己的潜力。因此，近年来中国也有越来越多的大学开始尝试引入更接近美国式的独立研究体系。归根结底，这是一种制度选择的问题。
大学中的研究所，与一般意义上的研究机构也并不相同。普通研究机构最核心的目标就是研究本身。根据政府政策与定位的不同，它们可能侧重于基础研究、应用研究或产业合作研究。
那么，LQM研究所应该建立怎样的身份与定位？
LQM研究所是在湖北工业大学以及湖北省的大力支持下建立起来的。研究所拥有独立的研究大楼，并广泛配置了低维材料研究所需的各种平台与设备，包括材料合成、原子与电子结构分析、光学表征、电学与自旋特性测量，以及能源存储与生产相关设备。
特别的是，研究所不仅仅希望建设一个普通实验室，而是致力于打造一个真正意义上的全球研究中心——一个能够吸引世界各地研究者共同开展合作研究的平台。
目前，研究所仍在不断引进新的研究人员，但现阶段主要参与研究的，仍是来自材料与化学工程学院、理学院以及电气工程学院的年轻研究者。
那么，这些年轻研究者的愿景又应该是什么？
过去我在韩国担任基础科学研究院研究团长时，也曾经历过类似的思考。当时的研究中心一方面接受政府的特别支持，另一方面又隶属于大学体系，在某种程度上与德国的马克斯·普朗克研究所有些相似。从外部看，研究方向与目标似乎十分明确，但真正进入内部之后，建立清晰的身份认同却并不容易。
尤其是在研究中心设定的大方向与参与教授个人研究兴趣之间，始终存在某种张力。年轻教授往往会对进入全新的研究领域感到犹豫。开拓者的道路，从来都不容易。
更现实的是，大学通常要求能够量化的研究成果，例如论文数量；而研究所则更希望看到能够改变领域的大突破。大学看重“数量”，而研究所更强调“质量”与“原创性”。年轻研究者必须在这两种期待之间不断挣扎与平衡。
LQM研究所同样面临着类似的问题。
更复杂的是，目前参与研究所的年轻研究者，原本已经隶属于各自院系的研究体系，并与所在团队的正教授保持合作关系。而加入LQM之后，他们实际上又进入了另一个研究体系之中。从某种意义上说，他们相当于“多了一位老板”。
学校既然投入了大量资源，自然也期待研究所能够产生优秀成果。它希望看到高水平论文，也希望培养出优秀的年轻人才。但这些成果绝不可能在短时间内完成。归根结底，最重要的仍然是建立一个能够长期稳定发展的系统。
经过长时间思考之后，我自己的选择其实变得很简单。
第一，是提升整个学校的科研能力。从学校的角度来说，也包括吸引海外优秀研究者，并通过国际交流创造一种新的科学文化。
第二，是尽可能激发年轻研究者的潜力。为此，我们追求的不应只是论文数量的增加，而是更高质量、更有意义的研究成果。真正重要的，并不是发表了多少篇论文，而是研究本身是否真正有价值。最终，希望年轻研究者能够通过自己的研究成长为独立的领导者。
当然，并不是所有研究者的课题都必须与研究所的方向完全一致。研究所重视的方向，与个人最具竞争力的研究主题，本来就可能有所不同。但我认为，每个人都应该至少认真思考一次：自己的研究，究竟是否真正对社会有意义，而不仅仅是为了发表论文。
最终，真正重要的，还是做出优秀的研究成果。
从这一点来看，相较于更垂直的结构，美国式更为平等和独立的研究体系，确实有其优势。因为研究最终必须建立在个人创造力与独立性的基础之上。
我作为领导者的角色，是去展示更大的方向与可能性。我可以提供建议与选择，但最终，研究仍然需要研究者自己去思考、去决定。作为经验更多的人，我愿意给予帮助，但我始终认为，研究应当建立在一种更加平等与开放的关系之中。
我自己也仍然有想要挑战的研究问题。如果有必要，我依然会与学生以及志同道合的年轻研究者一起亲自开展研究。同时，我个人并不希望仅仅依靠年轻研究者的成果而挂名署名。在这一点上，我的理念与传统的等级式体系有所不同。
而我也希望，年轻研究者不要只是跟随别人安排好的研究道路，而是真正成长为能够独立思考、独立选择，并最终走出自己道路的科学家。
Weekly Column2A New Scientific Culture
What does it mean to build a “new scientific culture”?
From the perspective of Chinese scientists, they are already well aware of both the strengths and the limitations of China’s scientific system. In that sense, what they expect from foreign scientists is quite clear: to help address those limitations and contribute to the advancement of Chinese science with new perspectives.
In truth, the development of science in China has been remarkable. I have witnessed the evolution of nanoscience from its very early days to where it stands today. At the beginning of the 21st century, “nano” was the central theme in science. That was when I first became interested in the field, and over time, I found myself becoming a part of it. Starting from theoretical physics, I moved on to carbon nanotube and graphene synthesis, the study of new physical properties, and various applications—working across physics, chemistry, materials science, and engineering. What began as simple curiosity eventually became my professional path.
In early 2000s, Korea had already established itself among the top five countries in nanoscience, while China was still in its early stages. However, China has since advanced at an astonishing pace and now stands among the world’s leading nations in this field. This reflects the country’s immense potential, and it is no longer something that can be denied. Continuous government support and a strong culture of respect for scientists have played a crucial role in sustaining this competitiveness.
When I began my research career in the 1990s, scientific leadership was still largely centered in the West. Yet I believed that one day Asia would become a major force in science. With that in mind, I worked to build research networks centered around Korea, China, and Japan. This led to the creation of Korea–China, Korea–Japan, and eventually Korea–China–Japan joint symposia, which continue to this day.
Through these experiences, I thought I understood Chinese culture fairly well. Korea and China are geographically close and share many cultural similarities. Human relationships, family values—there is much that overlaps. Because of this, I found it easy to build friendships with Chinese scientists, and those relationships remain strong today.
In many ways, creating a new scientific culture is not complicated. It begins with bringing in different people. When researchers from diverse backgrounds come together, a new culture naturally emerges. I experienced this while serving as a Director at the Institute for Basic Science in Korea. The presence of international researchers and students transformed not only the research environment but also the way people think—and those changes led to more creative outcomes. I hope to create a similar environment in our institute.
However, after spending a year and half in China, I find that while my overall understanding of the culture remains, my day-to-day experiences are often still unfamiliar. At a macro level, the ability to plan and execute large projects is highly impressive. This is undoubtedly one of China’s strengths.
But when it comes to the details, things can feel quite different. Small cultural differences often have a surprisingly large impact. I felt this most strongly during the renovation of the institute. Thanks to the university’s strong support, the construction process moved forward quickly and efficiently. Yet in the final stages, things began to diverge.
During the construction of the Center, we made numerous requests for adjustments, but many were not fully implemented. Although there were assurances that changes would be made, they often did not materialize. This was not only an issue with the contractors but also with insufficient oversight. For example, when installing laboratory tables, electrical outlets behind the walls were simply covered and sealed. Even after requesting corrections, the issue has yet to be fully resolved. In such cases, it is difficult to proceed with final payments. It is frustrating to see details that were discussed repeatedly at the beginning overlooked at the end. At one point, the stress even showed physically. One morning, while showering, I was surprised to see how much hair I was losing. It was probably the result of accumulated pressure. I imagine that the younger faculty working alongside me felt much the same.
The bidding process has also been challenging. The procedures are complex, the documentation is inefficient, and coordination between young faculty members and administrative staff is often not smooth. The process of preparing laboratory furniture, in particular, was exhausting. Every small detail—shape, color, function—had to be documented individually, making the process overwhelmingly time-consuming. It raises the question of whether handling everything through formal bidding is truly efficient. Perhaps it reflects a lack of mutual trust within the system.
At times, it feels unclear where to begin making changes. But one thing is certain: trust and accountability are essential. Each individual must take responsibility for their role, rather than allowing responsibility to become blurred.
We have to start with small things. In the institute, everyone—including students—must see themselves as responsible stakeholders. It is impossible for a single director to manage everything. The moment people begin to think, “someone else will take care of it,” it is already too late. Cleaning the lab, organizing shared spaces, fixing small inconveniences—these seemingly minor actions ultimately shape the quality of a research environment. They are also an integral part of scientific culture. It is through these small efforts that a strong and sustainable research community is built.
Now, the laboratory setup is nearing completion. While the cleanroom, dry room, and chemical labs are still under construction, we are already able to begin research meetings in the seminar room. Students and researchers can gather, learn from one another, and engage with invited speakers from different fields.
In this process, honesty is essential. We must be willing to admit what we do not know and to ask questions freely. We should reflect on how our work contributes to the broader community. We need the courage to step into new fields and learn without hesitation.
When a paper is completed, the simple sense of satisfaction it brings is enough. Regardless of the scale of the result, that feeling becomes the motivation for the next step. And more importantly, we must learn to enjoy the process itself.
Perhaps this is what a new scientific culture truly looks like.
Over the past period, everyone has invested tremendous time and effort to build this institute. I want to say to all of you: you have worked very hard. In Chinese, there is a phrase—“辛苦了 (xīnkǔ le).” It feels especially fitting at this moment. Now, it is time to return to what we truly set out to do—research. And in a better environment, I hope we can rediscover the simple joy of doing science.
I hope we can share that joy together.
新的科学文化
什么是“新的科学文化”？
从中国科学家的角度来看，他们对中国科学的优势与不足其实都有着清醒的认识。在这样的背景下，他们对外国科学家的期待也很明确——希望能够弥补现有的不足，以新的视角推动中国科学的发展。
事实上，中国的科学发展是令人瞩目的。我从纳米科学刚刚兴起的时代一路走到今天，亲眼见证了这一领域的发展。21世纪初，“纳米”成为科学界的关键词。也正是在那个时候，我开始对这一领域产生兴趣，并逐渐走上了这条研究之路。从最初的物理理论研究，到碳纳米管的合成、新物性探索，再到应用研究——我在物理、化学、材料和工程等多个领域之间不断穿梭。可以说，是从好奇心出发，最终成为了这个领域的一名研究者。
在2000年代初，韩国在纳米领域已经具备了世界前五的竞争力，而当时中国的纳米研究还处于起步阶段。然而此后，中国以惊人的速度追赶，并迅速成长为世界领先的科研强国。这既体现了中国巨大的潜力，也已成为一个无法否认的事实。政府持续的投入，以及全社会对科学家的尊重，共同支撑了今天中国科学的竞争力。
回想起我在上世纪90年代刚开始从事研究的时候，科学的中心仍然在西方。但我始终相信，有一天亚洲会成为科学的重要力量。因此，我一直努力在韩国、中国和日本之间建立科研网络。从最初的韩中研讨会、韩日研讨会，到后来扩展为韩中日三国联合研讨会，这些交流一直持续至今。
基于这些经历，我曾以为自己对中国文化已经有了相当的理解。韩国和中国在地理上接近，在文化上也有许多相通之处。无论是人际关系还是家庭观念，都有很多相似之处。因此，我与中国科学家之间很容易建立起信任与友谊，至今仍保持着良好的关系。
从某种意义上说，构建新的科学文化并不复杂——关键在于引入不同的人。当来自不同背景的研究者共同工作时，一种新的文化便会自然形成。我在韩国担任基础科学研究院主任时，已经有过这样的体验。外国研究者和学生的加入，不仅改变了研究环境，也改变了思考方式，而这些变化最终带来了更多的创造性成果。我也希望在我们的研究所中实现这样的转变。
在中国生活和工作的这一年半里，虽然我对整体文化的理解没有发生根本变化，但在实际操作中，还是不时会遇到一些新鲜的体验。宏观层面的规划和推进非常高效，这无疑是中国社会的一大优势。而到了具体执行层面，情况往往有所不同。一些看似细微的文化差异，有时会带来意想不到的感受。在研究所改造的过程中，我对此体会尤深。得益于学校的全力支持，工程整体推进得很快、很顺利，只是在最后的收尾阶段，节奏有些不一样了。
施工期间，我们多次提出修改建议，但有些并没有真正落实。当时对方大多表示会调整，可后来部分问题渐渐被搁置。这既有施工方的责任，也有监督管理上的一些不足。比如在安装实验室台面时，墙上的电源插座被直接封住了。我们试着提出修改请求，但至今没有完全处理完。这种情况下，尾款自然也无法支付。那些前期反复确认的细节，到了最后阶段却被忽视，难免让人感到有些无奈。
长期处于这样的状态，有一天早上洗澡时，我突然发现头发一把一把地掉落。回想起来，大概是压力慢慢积累的结果吧。一起工作的年轻同事们，想必也有类似的感受。
招标流程同样让人有些头疼。程序较为繁琐，文件准备效率不高，年轻教师和行政人员之间的协作也不太顺畅。特别是在家具采购中，每一个细节——形状、颜色、功能——都需要一一写进文件里，这样的流程有时让人觉得吃力。是否所有事项都适合通过招标来处理，也让人偶尔会产生疑问。或许，这背后反映的，是在彼此信任方面还有进一步改善的空间。
有时候，我也会感到迷茫，不知道该从哪里开始改变。但有一点是明确的——信任与责任是最关键的。每个人都应该对自己的工作负责，而不是让责任变得模糊不清。因此，我们必须从小事做起。在研究所中，包括学生在内的每一个成员，都应该成为“主人”。仅靠研究所长一个人，是无法完成所有事情的。如果每个人都抱着“总会有人去做”的想法，那么一切就会停滞不前。
打扫卫生、整理实验室、改进微小的问题——这些看似微不足道的事情，实际上决定了一个研究环境的质量。这些，同样是科学文化的重要组成部分。正是这些细节，最终塑造出一个真正优秀的科研环境。
现在，实验室的整理已经接近尾声。虽然超净间/干燥间和化学实验室仍在建设中，但我们已经可以在研讨室开始学术讨论。学生和研究人员可以聚在一起相互学习，也可以邀请外部学者来分享不同领域的知识。
在这样的过程中，最重要的是坦诚。要敢于承认“不知道”，敢于提问。要思考自己能为所在的科研环境带来什么贡献。面对新的研究领域，也要有勇气去学习。
当一篇论文完成时，那种简单的满足感，其实已经足够。无论成果大小，这种喜悦都会带来继续前进的动力。而更重要的是，要享受这个过程本身。
或许，这正是我们所追求的新的科学文化。
在过去的一段时间里，为了建立研究所，大家都付出了巨大的努力。我想对每一个人说一句：真的辛苦了。用中文来说，就是“辛苦了”。现在，是时候回到我们真正热爱的研究本身了。在一个更好的科研环境中，重新体会做研究的快乐。
我希望，这份快乐，我们能够一起感受到。
Weekly Column1The Beginning of LQM – A Personal Reflection on Building a New Scientific Culture
It has now been over a year and a half since I began my work in China. In some ways, it feels like a long time; in others, it feels surprisingly short. During this period, the research building has gradually taken shape. There is still work to be done—the cleanroom and dry room are not yet complete—but at last, the end is in sight. Equipment has been arriving one by one, and some of it is already quietly in operation. With the exception of the PPMS/MPMS and the time-resolved ARPES systems, most of the remaining instruments should be installed before the opening ceremony. Even the laboratory furniture will soon be in place. There are still unfinished floors, and the schedule has been delayed more than once. Yet, for the first time, I feel that we are finally ready to begin.
Last week, we held our very first small-group research meeting in the seminar room. The moment has stayed with me. I had expected to feel overwhelmed with emotion, but instead, I found myself surprisingly calm. Perhaps I had already spent too much time enduring the process internally. What I felt most deeply, however, was gratitude toward the young researchers who have been part of this journey. None of this would have been possible without their dedication. I often feel indebted to them. They are no longer just colleagues—they have become true companions on this path.
I often think back to my first visit to Hubei University of Technology two years ago. At that time, it was clear to me that the environment was not yet ready for immediate research. At the same time, I could see how much effort young researchers were putting in just to produce a single paper.
Fortunately, the university genuinely wanted change—and that desire was stronger than I had expected. With strong support from Hubei Province, the research environment we see today has gradually taken form. Many people have contributed to this journey in ways that are not always visible. I find myself naturally grateful to the university leadership, including the president and party secretary, for their commitment. The people I have met along the way have also become an unexpected gift in my life.
So what, then, is my role here?
Perhaps, first and foremost, it is to create an environment where researchers can truly focus on their work—where synthesis, characterization, device fabrication, and the discovery of new physical phenomena can all flow seamlessly within a single system. In other words, to build a space where ‘one-stop research’ becomes possible.
But over time, I have come to realize that my role does not end there. Through conversations with senior scientists and colleagues, I began to sense a different kind of expectation. It was a simple phrase, yet not a simple request: to help create a “new science culture.”
I have thought about this often.
What does it mean to build a new science culture?
At one dinner, some senior scholars, half jokingly, offered me a few “missions” to accomplish during my time in China. I smiled at the time, but their words stayed with me.
The first was to create something different from the existing culture. As someone from outside, perhaps I could see and change things that are not easily visible from within.
The second was to bring in people—researchers from Korea, and from other countries as well. When individuals from diverse backgrounds come together, interact, and collaborate, something new inevitably begins to form. I strongly believe this. New ideas often begin with new people, and from those interactions emerge creativity and innovation.
The third suggestion was, in a way, the most striking. They told me that I had already done enough good research, and that now, it might be more important to build an environment and nurture the next generation of leaders.<
I have not forgotten those words.
The truth is, I still love doing research. I still want to produce meaningful results. But at the same time, I understand that this is not the only reason I am here.
Perhaps my role is to serve as a small bridge—connecting the inside and the outside. There are things that cannot be seen from within alone, and things that only become visible when an external perspective is introduced.
I am still learning how to walk that path. I do not know how long I will remain here. But whether that time is long or short, I want to do what I can. To help build a new scientific culture, and to create a place where others can pursue their research a little more freely. And if possible, I hope that somewhere along the way, I too can find a bit more happiness.
That would be enough.
LQM（低维量子材料研究所）的起点——关于建设“新科学文化”的一点思考
转眼间，我来到中国已一年半。说长不长，说短不短。这段时间里，中心大楼渐渐成形。超净间和干燥间虽未完工，但终点已隐约可见。设备陆续到位，有些已安静运转。除了PPMS/MPMS和time-resolved ARPES系统，其余大多有望在开幕仪式前完成安装。桌椅家具也将在本月全部就位。当然，还有楼层尚未动工，原定时间表一再推迟。即便如此，我第一次真切感到：我们终于可以开始了。
上周，我们举行了第一次小型研讨会，那一刻让我久久难忘。原以为自己会百感交集，甚至热泪盈眶，但真正到来时却异常平静。或许是在这段过程中，内心早已历经太多起伏。相反，我更深刻地感受到的是对年轻研究者的感激。没有他们的投入与坚持，这一切都不可能实现。我常觉得自己欠他们很多。他们早已不只是同事，而是一同前行的伙伴。
我常回想起两年前初访湖北工业大学。那时我清楚，这里还不具备立即开展研究的条件。同时我也真切看到，年轻研究者为完成一篇论文付出了多少努力。幸运的是，学校确实渴望改变，而且比我最初预想的更为坚定。在湖北省大力支持下，今天的科研环境一点点被建立起来。这一路有许多默默付出的人。我由衷感谢校领导，他们的投入与担当令人敬佩。而在这个过程中结识的许多人，也成为我人生中的珍贵收获。
那么，我在这里的角色究竟是什么？
或许首先，是建立一个让研究者能专心做研究的环境——一个从材料合成、物性表征，到器件制备，再到新物理现象发现，都可以自然衔接的体系。也就是说，打造一个“一站式研究”的科研平台。但随着时间的推移，我逐渐意识到，我的角色并不仅止于此。在与许多资深科学家和同行的交流中，我隐约感受到另一种期待——创造一种“新的科学文化”。
这句话听起来简单，却并不轻松。
我曾反复思考，什么才是新的科学文化？
有一次饭桌上，几位前辈半开玩笑地给我提出几项“任务”。我当时一笑而过，但那些话一直留在心里。
第一，创造一种不同于现有模式的科学文化。作为一个外来者，或许可以看到身处其中的人难以察觉的东西，并尝试做出改变。
坦率地说，我依然热爱科研，也依然渴望做出好成果。但与此同时，我也明白，我来到这里的意义并不只在于此。或许，我的角色更像是一座小小的桥梁——连接内部与外部。很多时候，仅仅身处其中，很难看清全貌；而当外部的视角进入时，一些原本看不见的东西才会逐渐显现。 而我，仍在学习如何走好这条路。我不知道自己会在这里停留多久。但无论时间长短，我都希望能尽己所能，推动一种新的科学文化的形成，创造一个让更多人能更自由开展研究的环境。
如果可以，我也希望，在这个过程中，自己能够变得更加从容，也更加幸福。
那样，就已经足够了。
Copyright © 2025 Institute of Low-Dimensional Quantum Materials, Hubei University of Technology.
