It is not every day you meet a local hero, but when you do, it is an extraordinary experience. That is how I felt when I met Wu Guo Liang. His cheerful face and sturdy frame brought me immediate comfort after a shocking encounter. I still wonder to this day how I was so fortunate that he was there, like a guardian angel sent to rescue me.
My journey to China was a twist of fate. I always believed in destiny, and my father believed we had a special connection to the country. He was a man who admired the ancient civilisation and history of China. A Chinese acupuncturist cured him of back pain. It was almost as if the universe was calling me to explore this land.

I was working late in my teacher’s apartment when I heard the screen door open. I thought it was my colleague, John, playing a joke, but when I walked into the livingroom, I saw a tall young Chinese man. He seemed a bit strange, and I was a bit unnerved. He kept pointing to his throat, insisting he needed water.
I brought him a glass of water, and he started telling me his story. He said his father was American and his mother was Chinese, but his English was broken, and I had to switch to Mandarin to understand. He seemed out of sorts, and when I asked for his name, he just stared at me blankly.
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I led him to the door, feeling a bit uneasy. I locked my door that night, something I usually didn’t do, but the next morning, the screen door wouldn’t open. I called Lee Lee, the building manager. “A student walked into my room last night without knocking,” I explained. “He looked a bit odd.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Shoutou, shoutou!” she exclaimed, meaning “thief”. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time. She reassured me, “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”
She put me in touch with Wu Guo Liang, the security officer. He was a big man with a friendly face, a calming presence. “China is safe, especially on campus,” he assured me, “but this student has some personal issues”. He promised to take care of everything.
I told him that Georgina, my neighbour, had experienced a similar incident. “We’re taking it very seriously,” Wu said. “We’re putting a female security guard on your floor tonight, and installing more security cameras.”

Wu’s unruffled concern put me at ease. He took me to the security room, the CCTV hub for the university. “Do you recognise him?” he asked, showing me footage of the student.
“It’s too blurry,” I said. “But I think I could recognise him from a photo.”
Wu showed me the student’s photos. “That’s him!” I said, pointing to one. “His eye is crossed.”
“We know him,” Wu said. “We have caught him on camera many times but not actually stealing anything. Even then, the penalty for minor theft is only a few days of detention.‘’
“That runs contrary to what many westerners believe about the China’s legal system. We are told it is very severe,” I said.
“Not really, especially in cases like this where the student has issues. We will contact the parents,” said Wu.
Wu told me his parents agreed to send their son for further treatment. Then the university would allow him to return next semester under supervision.
Wu said, “This is tough on his parents. They can’t expect him to care for them in their old age now, as is traditional in China.”

The experience give me a further glimpse into the compassion I had found in Chinese people. Following on from these early meetings, Wu and I developed a friendship. He often invited me to his office for tea, a traditional custom in Southern China. We discussed our shared concerns about the traffic situation at the university. Wu Guo Liang recognised the critical safety concern on campus, especially with the proliferation of e-bikes. He created a series of road safety videos, documenting accidents and demonstrating safe riding techniques. He included sound and cartoon effects, which attracted the students’ attention.
I used these videos in my lectures. I was astonished by how naive the students were about road safety. They loved their e-bikes, but did not always understand the risks. On his own steam, Wu ran an information program, encouraging students to wear helmets and park safely. He patrolled campus every morning in his police minicar, shouting verbal warnings on his speaker.
Wu’s compassion extended beyond road safety. One morning, he messaged me a photo of a lost dog he found in his police car. He asked me to help circulate it to find its owner. He also made me aware of the existence of the local animal rescue where animals could be sent if we failed to find the owner. He has done this with several abandoned kittens as well.
Wu expressed a genuine interest in foreign cultures and people. “I really believe in ‘one world, one family’,” he told me. I would love to travel abroad and share my skills. He also shared details about his family life, especially his devotion to his elderly mother. He and his wife kept her in their home since his father died.
“My mother practices t’ai chi every day. It’s good for her.” He smiled a warm, genuine smile. “She’s in her late 70s, and she’s still strong.” He demonstrated some of the t’ai chi movements, and I laughed at his playful spirit.
Wu and I bonded over our shared experiences, exchanging gifts and personal stories. Even now, back in Ireland, I keep in touch wit through WeChat, sharing updates about our families. Through this journey, I have come to appreciate the warmth and humanity that transcends cultural boundaries.
In the end, it truly is a small world, and we are all part of one family.
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