Orientation: Welcome Party
At 9:00 a.m., the lecture hall in the new psychology building was already more than half full.
The entire classroom has a circular, sunken structure, with light gray carpets, natural wood-colored desktops, and chairs with strong lines extending downwards in layers, resembling both a theater and a laboratory.
The floor-to-ceiling windows cover almost the entire wall, allowing the sunlight to stream in without reservation, which falls on the row of tables by the window, making the air bright and clear.
The classroom still had a slight smell of renovation materials, but it wasn't pungent. Mixed with the sunlight and paper, it smelled like the first page of a new book.
There were about fifty people in the classroom, mostly newly enrolled doctoral students. Everyone was dressed casually, with jeans, sneakers, hoodies, casual skirts, and loose T-shirts mixed together, as if they hadn't completely shaken off the summer vibe.
Quiet conversations rose and fell; some introduced themselves, some shared stories of flight delays, and others sat in the back eating breakfast while flipping through documents.
A dozen or so people who were clearly not students were sitting on one side of the classroom and in the front row. They looked slightly older and more reserved, and their attire was surprisingly uniform: most of the men wore shirts with trousers or knitted cardigans, typical "business casual" outfits; the women mostly wore well-tailored shirt dresses or suits, their style restrained yet professional.
They might be professors, project leaders, or administrative staff, but even without introductions, Pan Qiu could tell they "knew all the rules here."
Several breakfast tables were set up at the back of the classroom near the window, serving meals to the new students.
A stainless steel thermos stood quietly on the corner of the table. With a gentle press, the coffee flowed out with a very soft sound, and the aroma rose with the steam, spreading a faint warmth around the rim of the paper cup. Neatly arranged next to it were milk balls, a stirrer, and several plates of sliced croissants, English muffins, and bagels sprinkled with sesame seeds. Cream cheese and several bottles of honey butter were also thoughtfully placed nearby.
Panqiu had already eaten at home that morning, but seeing the coffee, she still went over and poured herself a cup. She usually doesn't add sugar, just a little milk, and tasted it—slightly bitter, with a gentle aroma, just enough to refresh her.
She took another muffin, its crust crispy and golden brown, yet soft and fluffy inside, the sweetness perfectly balancing the bitterness of the coffee.
When she returned to her seat, the freshman handbook had already been handed out. The cover was printed with the blue and white department logo and a few lines of schedules, the font still seemingly warm from being freshly printed.
She turned to the first page and glanced towards the front of the classroom. A woman stood by the podium, preparing to introduce today's agenda, while a welcome slideshow began scrolling on the large screen.
—"Welcome to the Department of Psychology."
A woman in a dark blue dress walked onto the stage. The dress was neatly tailored and swayed gently at her knees. She wore a pair of soft yet sophisticated black leather flats.
She walked slowly, each step steady. Around her neck was a gold necklace, not the kind of delicate, inconspicuous ornament, but a striking, carefully chosen focal point.
That was a clear statement: she knew who she was and how she should be seen.
At that moment, Pan Qiu suddenly felt a sense of familiarity with the female business partner in the TV series "The Good Wife." She wasn't the stereotypical, dull academic woman, but rather a professional woman with sharp features—elegant, self-possessed, and exuding confidence.
She seemed to step into some unformed ideal projection in Panqiu's mind, reminding her: You can be that kind of person too.
The woman stopped, her voice not loud, but it carried throughout the entire classroom.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Ellen Chase, the chair of the psychology department."
"Congratulations on successfully passing the first academic selection ceremony."
A burst of laughter filled the classroom. Pan Qiu chuckled softly as well, but couldn't help repeating the "academic selection ceremony" in her mind.
She liked this way of putting it. It wasn't an exam, not a pass, but a ritual, an invisible yet real selection process. It sounded gentler.
“We are very pleased to welcome 41 new doctoral students this year – some from all over the country and some from across the ocean.”
Chase nodded slightly toward the side of the podium, as if to make a point of acknowledging the faces of people from other countries.
"There are also about fifteen faculty representatives present today—depending on your research interests, they may soon become your mentors, collaborators, co-authors of papers… or existential threats."
Laughter broke out in the classroom again.
Pan Qiu felt that this statement was very much in line with the "department head's" style—a welcome that was humorous but far from naive. What is a true welcome? It's not about offering water, nor is it about saying "we support you," but rather about reminding you of the fulcrum and risks of your academic career.
She recalled seeing a quote online: "What crushes you first is not the system, but the people you admire."
“We also have an excellent administrative team—student services, research support, IT, finance, and everyone who makes sure everything runs smoothly. If it’s not an academic issue, go and bother them, but remember to be polite.”
She knew, of course, that "disturbance" was a joke. But the instruction to "remember to be polite" made her imagine the scene: the tone of her knock, the wording, whether to bring some snacks to show her sincerity... But after her mind had only gone through two rounds of thought, she suddenly realized—she had started overthinking again.
"If that's truly an academic issue, and you still want to bother them... then please reconsider your life choices."
This remark elicited a genuine burst of laughter from the classroom. Pan Qiu laughed too.
“And of course, there’s each other.” Chase scanned the room. “Your peers will be your best academic challengers, emotional support systems, and late-night coffee providers.”
Academic challenger—Pan Qiu silently repeated the phrase. It was a role that sounded like an enemy but was actually an ally. She recalled the time she and Zhiwei supported each other as they prepared to go abroad.
"Our department has six main research areas: biopsychology, clinical psychology, cognition and cognitive neuroscience, developmental psychology, personality and social context, and social psychology."
She actually already knew about these six areas and had done rounds of self-examination.
Biopsychology is too "hard"; it talks about brain structure and neural activity, like talking to a microscope.
She took several courses in cognition and cognitive neuroscience during her undergraduate studies, which were more theoretical and structural, like an anatomy lab for the mechanisms of thought.
She understands developmental psychology the best and has even interned in it, but she always feels that its timeline is too long—a research topic often requires tracking for five or ten years, and she is not yet prepared for that kind of patience.
She once really liked social psychology and personality and social situation. Those were the two areas she was most passionate about when she first started studying psychology, about attribution bias, role identity, self-presentation, etc. But because she liked them so early, she now feels that these topics have been discussed too much and too quickly, like a pop song, once you become familiar with them, it's hard to delve deeper.
She had seriously considered a clinical career path—because it was the closest to suffering and to real emotions. But precisely because of this, it was like an open door; once you stepped inside, it was difficult to shut down your own emotions.
She didn't know where she was going, but she vaguely knew that she cared about how people get closer and how they miss each other; she wanted to ask about those things that were unseen, inexplicable, but which were indeed flowing between each other.
“Some of you may already know which direction you belong to, while others will drift through different fields first. That’s fine. Part of pursuing a PhD is figuring out what kind of questions would make you willing to forget to eat lunch.”
The pancake in Panqiu's mouth suddenly tasted cloyingly sweet. She knew she would forget to eat because of problems; she was never the kind of person who needed external motivation.
But she also understood the other meaning of those words: only what you are willing to go hungry to protect is worth spending five years searching for the answer to.
Slideshow slide turn.
“So, today’s schedule is roughly like this…” Chase began to explain the process, his tone like that of someone unwrapping a gift.
The morning session will feature a flash mob lecture for faculty, followed by an introduction to the doctoral program, which will cover the basic pathways, course requirements, and qualifying exams for doctoral studies.
The department will provide lunch at noon. After lunch and a short rest, the afternoon session will be more formal: an explanation of several key policies, including gender equality provisions, academic ethics, and various support mechanisms.
Next came a lab tour and a Q&A session with senior PhD students. It sounded like a lot of information to be gathered throughout the day.
Chase turned to the last page: "At the end of the day, we'll raise a glass to celebrate." She paused, then smiled and said, "There will be red wine, but not yet. Don't forget to bring your ID."
Another burst of lighthearted laughter, like sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filled the lecture hall.
The department head paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Now it's time for our most popular traditional segment—the faculty flash mob lecture. You can think of it as a blind date, except with higher cortisol levels and less eye contact."
Another soft laugh rippled through the classroom. Pan Qiu opened the handbook and gently marked a small asterisk on the page with the teacher's name.
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