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In 2022, the Vice President of Tokyo Institute of Technology personally led a delegation to visit NYCU. As soon as we sat down, he got straight to the point:
“We’re also considering a university merger. We’ve come to learn from your experience.”
(Editor’s note: The Tokyo Institute of Technology and the Tokyo Medical and Dental University merged in October 2024 to form the Institute of Science Tokyo.)

I smiled and replied, “Then you’ve come at the perfect time—because we’re still right in the middle of it.”

When National Yang-Ming University and National Chiao Tung University officially merged in 2021, I also began my term as president. From that moment, I understood that this was not merely an administrative integration–it was a profound cultural fusion, an ongoing journey of reshaping our values and reimagining our future.

People often ask me, “After four years, what’s your secret to a successful merger?”
I don’t have a secret, only a conviction that has grown clearer with time:
Integration is not a simple combination—it is re-creation.

Lesson One: Not Dismantling Signs, but Building a New Stage

In the beginning, the question that drew the most attention was our name.
Some wanted “Yang-Ming” to come first; others insisted on keeping “Chiao Tung” for its brand legacy. It reminded me of the martial-arts novels I read as a child—before a duel, the master always asked, “Which school are you from?”

We are so accustomed to defining one another by origin that we sometimes forget: we are now a new university. We are no longer “people from this side or that side,” but partners walking forward together.

So instead of tearing down old signboards, I chose to build a new stage—one where everyone could perform their best act.

As I wrote in the tenth letter, this is what I call “Staging the Stage.”

Lesson Two: Integration Is Not Averaging, but Value-Adding

The greatest pitfall in any merger is the pursuit of forced balance or mechanical symmetry—when resources are divided merely to appear fair. That approach breeds caution and closes hearts.

My philosophy of integration has always been simple:
“Find the reasons why each side cannot live without the other.”

After the merger, we launched Biomedical Engineering as an emerging interdisciplinary field, drawing on the combined strengths of medicine, life sciences, and engineering from both universities. This was not merely a reshuffling of departments, but a redesign of education itself.

Through this new platform, medical students began exploring life through the lens of simulation and modeling, while engineering students learned to appreciate the complexity and adaptability of living systems. Together, we aspired to cultivate a new generation of talent capable of bridging theory and reality, technology and humanity.

The key to successful integration lies not in A + B, but in creating C—something that exists only because A and B come together.

Lesson Three: Where There Is Tension, There Is Change

During the first two years, conflicts and misunderstandings were inevitable.
I still remember a faculty meeting where a professor, visibly upset, said,
“This is no longer the Chiao Tung we knew!”

I didn’t rush to argue. I replied,
“You’re right. This is no longer the old Chiao Tung, nor the old Yang Ming.
This is the NYCU we are building together.”

True integration doesn’t mean polishing away every edge. It means learning to live with differences. A university that still argues is, at the very least, one that still cares—one that still possesses the energy to change. The real danger lies in apathy, when silence replaces dialogue.

So I chose to both listen and lead.
Rather than fearing collisions, we sought to create a rhythm and safety mechanism for them—turning each moment of friction into sparks of progress, not cracks of divisions.