Yanwen’s blog

8/30/2026

I saw the title of this article and was intrigued to find out what else we need if logic alone is not enough.

“想表达好一个观点？光讲逻辑还不够！”
(Xiǎng biǎodá hǎo yí ge guāndiǎn? Guāng jiǎng luóji hái bú gòu!)

“Want to make a compelling argument? Logic alone isn’t enough!”

The article argues that, in addition to logic, powerful opinion writing requires independent critical thinking, solid evidence, structured knowledge, and an authentic perspective.

In other words, the article is really arguing that independent thinking comes before logical expression.

One point I find particularly relevant is the distinction between facts and judgments.

Much of today's commentary mixes the two together. It is up to readers to go back to the original facts and determine what is actually known and what is someone’s interpretation or judgment.

For example, saying “Protein restriction promotes longevity” presents the statement as a fact.

But what the evidence may actually establish is closer to:

“Protein restriction has extended lifespan in some animal models, while evidence in humans remains limited.”

It is crucial to be able to separate: “What do we know?” from “What can we conclude from what we know?”

A good opinion writer should continually ask: What is actually true here? And what evidence would change my mind?

Another idea I find interesting is structural thinking.

A superficial article says:

A happened, and then B happened.

A deeper article asks:

What underlying mechanism connects A and B?

That is structural thinking: moving from an observation to a mechanism, and then from the mechanism to a broader principle.

Another important point is the role of counterarguments. We should try to make the strongest possible argument while honestly confronting—or even inviting—the strongest argument against our own position.

For example, in my article about the Kushner family, the obvious counterargument is:

Maybe Joshua Kushner's success has much less to do with family values than the article suggests. He inherited enormous financial and social advantages.

Rather than avoiding this objection, I should invite it into the article:

“That's undoubtedly true. But even after accounting for those advantages, I still find the family's transmission of values to be an important part of his story.”

Inviting counterarguments doesn't weaken an article. It makes the argument stronger.

There is one important element, however, that I think the article overlooks: curiosity.

The best commentary often begins with a feeling that something doesn't quite make sense:

“Something doesn't quite make sense to me. What about this? Or what about that?”

That question prompts us to look for more information, examine the evidence, and sometimes change our initial assumptions.

This is exactly what happened when I read about protein restriction. The headline suggested that eating less protein could slow aging. My first reaction was: Really? What about the importance of protein for maintaining muscle as we age?

That question prompted me to look deeper and found out more.

The same thing happened with the Kushner story:

“Why does this wealthy, third-generation American family seem different from the pattern described by 富不过三代?”

That question led me to think more deeply about what families pass from one generation to the next—not only wealth, but also values, habits, attitudes, and ways of thinking.

Perhaps this is what good commentary is ultimately about.

Logic organizes the answer.
Evidence supports the answer.
Language communicates the answer.

But curiosity generates the question in the first place.

8/29/2026

In Chinese, you will also hear:

不要把所有鸡蛋放在一个篮子里 (Bù yào bǎ suǒyǒu jīdàn fàng zài yí ge lánzi lǐ), meaning “Don't put all your eggs in one basket.”

It is essentially the Chinese version of the English proverb. The idea is simple: don't concentrate all your resources, risks, or hopes in one place. If that one thing fails, you could lose everything.

The underlying idea is much older and broader than the modern investment cliché.

Historically, merchants transporting valuable goods by sea had a practical reason not to put everything on a single ship. Storms, piracy, shipwrecks, war, or navigational accidents could wipe out an entire cargo. Splitting the cargo among several ships meant that losing one ship would not necessarily mean losing everything.

Today, the saying is commonly used in the context of investment and risk diversification, but the principle can be applied much more broadly:

• Don't depend on a single source of income.

• Don't put all your savings into one investment.

• Don't rely on only one career path.

• Don't put all your emotional or social needs into one relationship.

• Don't build a business that depends entirely on one customer.

• Don't make your entire future depend on one uncertain outcome.

But I think we should apply this principle to something even more precious than money: our time and energy.

A liberal arts education follows a similar logic. Rather than asking students to specialize in one narrow field too early, it exposes them to different disciplines and cultivates a broader range of intellectual abilities.

This strategy of diversifying our investment of time and energy is particularly valuable in the early stages of life.

When we are still uncertain about our strengths and interests, it can be risky to commit ourselves entirely to one path before we have had the opportunity to explore others. By spreading our efforts across different experiences, we can discover where our abilities and interests produce the greatest returns. As we learn more about ourselves, we can gradually shift more of our time and energy toward the areas where we have the greatest potential.

Viewed over a lifetime, this is essentially a form of risk management.

There is, however, an important principle behind effective diversification: when adding a new asset to a portfolio, it is most valuable when it is substantially different from the assets we already own. Diversification works because different assets don't all fail at the same time.

The same principle applies to our social networks.

After we enter the workforce, many of the people we become friends with tend to work in the same industry or belong to the same social circles. This is natural. We interact with these people more often, share similar experiences, and have more in common.

But from the perspective of diversification, it is also valuable to develop relationships with people from different industries, backgrounds, social circles, and ways of thinking.

In fact, we may need to consciously devote extra time and energy to nurturing these weak ties—relationships that are not part of our immediate social circle.

Conversations with people who see the world differently can broaden our horizons, challenge our assumptions, and sometimes open doors to opportunities we would never have encountered otherwise.

There is another Chinese saying:

多个朋友多条路 (Duō gè péngyou duō tiáo lù): “The more friends you have, the more paths you have.”

If our relationships span different walks of life, industries, and social circles, our network becomes a richer and more interconnected map of possibilities. When one path closes, another may remain open.

We don't know which investment will succeed, which career will work out, which relationship will endure, or which opportunity will change our lives. So rather than betting everything on a single path, we can keep several paths open until we learn enough to know where to place our biggest bet.

Diversification means giving ourselves the freedom to adapt when life does not go according to plan.

Perhaps the ultimate goal is not to make sure that every basket survives, but to make sure that when one basket breaks, we still have something left—and another path forward.

8/28/2026

Earlier this month, I read about protein restriction (PR). This was something completely new to me—the first time I had ever heard about it.

ScienceDaily carried the news with a very catchy headline: “Eating less protein could slow aging, major review finds.”

The news caught my attention because it is particularly relevant to the longevity material I've been working through from Eric Topol's Super Agers.

The news was based on a paper titled “The Hallmarks of Protein and Amino Acid Restriction in Aging and Longevity,” by Bailey A. Knopf and Dudley W. Lamming, published on July 31, 2026, in Cell Press Blue. The paper reviews more than 350 studies.

The headline conclusion is surprisingly counterintuitive: eating less protein—not more—may promote healthier aging and, under some circumstances, longer life.

But there is an important qualification: the evidence for lifespan extension is much stronger in laboratory animals than in humans. The paper is definitely not saying that older people should simply start eating a low-protein diet.

Animal studies have shown improvements in metabolism, reduced cellular damage, and, in some circumstances, increased lifespan.

What makes the researchers' argument fascinating is the underlying biology.

Protein and its constituent amino acids are not merely building blocks for the body. They also act as signals, telling cells whether nutrients are abundant and whether the body should prioritize growth and construction.

So the underlying concept is something like:

Too much nutrient signaling leads to excessive growth and less cellular maintenance

On the other hand:

Moderate nutrient limitation leads to more maintenance and repair, and potentially healthier aging

That's a very different way of thinking about nutrition. But what about older people who need protein to maintain muscle?

Protein is essential for maintaining muscle mass and strength, and muscle loss is one of the major threats to independence as we age.

In fact, the researchers suggest that protein requirements should probably be personalized according to age and physical activity. People who exercise—especially those doing resistance training—are in a different situation from sedentary people.

And the human evidence is still limited. Short-term human studies of amino-acid restriction have shown some metabolic improvements, but we do not yet know whether protein restriction extends human lifespan.

The most intriguing question for me is how to reconcile protein restriction with the strong emphasis on muscle preservation in older adults. Until we have a clearer answer, I think it makes sense to prioritize preserving muscle.

8/27/2026

Recently, a friend shared with me a story about Joshua Kushner that made me think about what parents really pass on to their children.

Joshua Kushner's grandparents survived the Holocaust in Nazi Germany and came to the United States. They deeply valued the opportunity to live in a free country. They endured extraordinary hardship, worked very hard, and eventually accumulated substantial wealth.

Joshua's parents, the second generation, grew up in an immigrant family and witnessed their parents' struggles. They built upon what their parents had created and continued to carry forward the family's ambition and determination.

Joshua, although a third-generation American, grew up with a strong family narrative about determination, resilience, self-improvement, and making something of oneself. He said, “I grew up in an immigrant family,” and what he seems to mean is that he grew up not simply in a family of immigrants, but in a family shaped by immigrant culture and values.

What impresses me most about the Kushner story is not what Joshua inherited in terms of wealth, but what he seems to have inherited besides wealth.

Besides money, his family passed down a way of thinking and a set of value: the importance of hard work, perseverance, ambition, and the determination to build something for oneself.

The story reminds me of a Chinese saying: 富不过三代 (fù bù guò sān dài)

“Wealth does not last beyond three generations.”

Here's the story behind this saying.

The first generation starts with very little and works relentlessly. They buy a home, build a business, save money, and eventually become prosperous.

Then comes a natural parental decision:

“My children shouldn't have to go through what I've been through.” So they give their children everything they themselves never had.

The intention is loving. But there is an irony.

The children may inherit the fruits of their parents' hard work without learning the values and experiences that created that wealth in the first place.

By the third generation, the grandchildren may continue to enjoy the wealth accumulated by their parents and grandparents while becoming increasingly removed and alienated from the struggles that created it.

In the end, as the saying goes, wealth disappears after three generations because the values that created the wealth disappear first.

Money can survive for a while. But if the ability to create, preserve, and grow wealth is not passed on, eventually the wealth itself becomes exhausted.

This is what I find interesting about the Kushner family. Their story suggests that there is something more valuable to pass from one generation to the next than wealth: the character and values that built the wealth in the first place.

We can pass these values on to our children even if they never have to experience the poverty, insecurity, or suffering that earlier generations experienced.

We don't need to recreate hardship for our children. But in protecting them from hardship, we should be careful not to deprive them of the experiences that teach independence, persistence, gratitude, responsibility, and resilience.

And perhaps most importantly, we should make sure that a comfortable life does not become a sense of entitlement and children don't take what is given to them for granted.

Many immigrant parents work hard to give their children a better life. But the greatest inheritance may not be money, but the values that created it—discipline, courage, perseverance, and resilience.

Money can make a child's life easier. Values can make a child strong and capable and make money last beyond third generation.

Perhaps that is the better legacy to leave behind.

8/26/2026

I have been sharing my thoughts on Eric Topol's Super Agers: An Evidence-Based Approach to Longevity since August 14. Before I move on from this book, I want to mention something from Chapter 5, Cardiovascular Disease, that is very relevant.

A few days ago, I read about the widely discussed death of Chen Mao (陈毛), a 57-year-old amateur marathon runner from Dazhou, Sichuan, China.

According to reports, Chen died in his sleep on the morning of August 14, 2026, reportedly from acute myocardial infarction. (凤凰网)

What makes his story so shocking is how an exceptionally fit person suddenly died.

Chen began systematic long-distance running at age 50. Over the following seven years, he accumulated more than 30,000 kilometers of running and earned nearly 100 race medals. His best times were an impressive 2:55 for the full marathon and 1:21 for the half marathon. He also did strength training and was known for his muscular physique, disciplined lifestyle, and reportedly low resting heart rate of around 44 beats per minute. Reports also say he did not smoke or drink. (凤凰网)

As recently as August 13, the day before his death, he was still discussing training and race plans with other runners online. (Sohu)

Why has his death attracted so much attention?

Because it challenges an assumption many of us carry:

If someone looks extremely fit, performs at a high athletic level, and lives a disciplined lifestyle, surely his heart and arteries must be healthy.

But those are not necessarily the same thing.

1. A strong body does not necessarily mean healthy coronary arteries

Chen's muscular physique and exceptional running ability tell us a great deal about his physical conditioning. They do not, by themselves, tell us whether he had coronary atherosclerosis.

This is precisely what struck me when I looked at the coronary atherosclerosis data I wrote about yesterday.

Atherosclerosis can begin surprisingly early in life and progress silently for decades. A person can be physically fit and have no obvious symptoms while plaque is developing inside the coronary arteries.

That is an uncomfortable distinction:

The muscles we can see are not the same as the arteries we cannot see.

2. Excellent endurance does not make someone immune to cardiovascular disease

Exercise is one of the most powerful tools we have for healthy aging. Nothing about Chen Mao's story should be interpreted as an argument against exercise.

Quite the opposite.

But excellent athletic performance should not be mistaken for a shield against cardiovascular disease.

A low resting heart rate, strong muscles, fast marathon times and impressive endurance are all signs of physical conditioning. They do not completely eliminate other cardiovascular risk factors, including age, LDL cholesterol, blood pressure, diabetes, smoking history, family history and other factors.

This distinction becomes increasingly important as we get older.

3. Atherosclerosis can remain silent

One of the frightening characteristics of coronary atherosclerosis is that it may develop without any symptoms.

A person can feel completely normal while plaque is silently accumulating inside the arteries.

A heart attack does not necessarily mean that the disease suddenly appeared that day. In many cases, the underlying process may have been developing for years.

When an unstable atherosclerotic plaque ruptures, a blood clot can form at the site and suddenly obstruct blood flow to the heart muscle, producing an acute myocardial infarction. That is one possible mechanism behind a sudden heart attack.

Exercise is generally protective of cardiovascular health. But exercise is not a guarantee against cardiovascular disease.

4. The real lesson for us

What I take from Chen Mao's story is:

Don't confuse fitness with immunity.

Exercise that we should! But as we get older, especially if we undertake vigorous endurance training, we should also pay attention to cardiovascular risk factors and appropriate medical evaluation.

Know your blood pressure, your blood sugar, your family history, your risk, your cholesterol—and, when appropriate, your ApoB or other cardiac markers that your doctor recommends. Pay attention to symptoms.

And if you are planning intensive endurance training, particularly in middle age or later, discuss your cardiovascular risk and what screening is appropriate with your doctor rather than assuming that excellent fitness makes testing unnecessary.

Yesterday I wrote about coronary atherosclerosis in young people. The heart attack like Chen's may happen at 57, but the underlying disease process may have started decades earlier.

The most important lesson I take from Chen Mao's tragic story:

Don't be blinded by athletic performance, a low resting heart rate, or a lean and muscular physique. They may be signs of "fitness"—but they are not necessarily healthy coronary arteries.

And the broader lesson from Super Agers is even more important:

Healthy aging is not just looking healthy. It is preserving health at every level—especially the parts of our bodies that we cannot see.