Feifei, an 11-year-old boy from Xuzhou, Jiangsu Province, suffered from a sudden acute eye disease which has almost led to blindness. The disease was caused by excessive(过度的)eye fatigue(疲劳)during the winter vacation, during which he played computer games for continuous 10 days and nights.

    Many youngsters in China nowadays are increasingly addicted to computer games and other electronic products. This is followed by a series of health problems, with the most typical case being myopia, or nearsightedness.

    According to the latest research report released by the World Health Organization (WHO), the myopia   rate among Chinese teenagers ranks first in the world—70 percent of high school and college students. The rate is nearly 40 percent in primary school students, while it is only 10 percent for their peers in the United States.

    There are at least 10 million people in China with severe myopia, and they are likely to get pathological(病理性的)myopia in middle age. Pathological myopia can't be treated with glasses or surgery, and it is one of the biggest factors that lead to blindness, Xu Xun, director of the ophthalmology(眼科学) department at Shanghai General Hospital, pointed out.

    Experts explain that two major factors lead to the high rate of myopia among Chinese people. One is high academic pressure, and the other one is excessive use of electronic devices over a long period of time. Genetics, on the other hand, are not the main reason, as only 20 percent of Chinese people had myopia in the 1960s.

    "Teenagers are now faced with severe academic pressure, which means they often study without natural light. This increases their risk of becoming nearsighted," Xu said.

    Experts suggest that youngsters maintain a proper balance between study and rest so as to protect their eyesight, and parents should play an active role in the process.

    One of the qualities that most people admire in others is the willingness to admit one's mistakes. It is extremely hard sometimes to say a simple thing like "I was wrong about that," and it is even harder to say, "I was wrong, and you were right about that."

    I had an experience recently with someone admitting to me that he had made a mistake fifteen years ago. He told me he had been the manager of a certain store in the neighborhood where I grew up, and he asked me if I remembered the egg cartons (in many countries, eggs are sold by the dozen and are put in cartons.) Then he related an incident (event, matter) and I began to remember unclearly the incident he was describing.

    I was about eight years old at the time. I went into the store with my mother to do some shopping. On that particular day, I must have found my way to the food department where the incident took place.

    There must have been a special sale on eggs that day because there were lots of eggs in dozen and half-dozen cartons. The cartons were put three or four feet high. I must have stopped in front of the piles of egg cartons. Just then a woman came by pushing her shopping cart and knocked off the cartons. For some reason, I decided it was up to me to put the eggs back together, so I went to work.

    The manager heard the noise and came rushing over to see what had happened. When he appeared, I was on my knees looking at some of the cartons to see if any of the eggs were broken, but to him it looked as though I was the one who just did it. He severely reprimanded me and wanted me to pay for any broken eggs. I tried to explain, but it did no good. Even though I quickly forgot all about the incident, it is plain that the manager did not.

    One afternoon I toured an art museum while waiting for my husband to finish a business meeting. I was looking forward to a quiet view of the art works.

    A young couple viewing the paintings ahead of me chatted nonstop between themselves. I watched them a moment and decided the wife was doing all the talking. I admired his patience for putting up with her continuous talk. Distracted by their noise, I moved on.

    I met with them several times as I moved through the different rooms of art. Each time I heard her constant burst of words, I moved away quickly.

    I was standing at the counter of the museum gift shop making a purchase when the couple came near to the exit. Before they left, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a white object. He extended it into a long stick and then tapped his way into the coatroom to get his wife's jacket.

    "He's a brave man.," the clerk at the counter said, "Most of us would give up if we were blinded at such a young age. During his recovery, he made a promise that his life wouldn't change. So, as before, he and his wife come in whenever there's a new art show."

    "But what does he get out of the art?" I asked. "He can't see."

    "Can't see? You're wrong. He sees a lot. More than you or I do," the clerk said. "His wife describes each painting so he can see it in his head."

    I learned something about patience, courage and love that day. I saw the patience of a young wife describing paintings to a person without sight and the courage of a husband who would not allow blindness to change his life. And I saw the love shared by two people as I watched this couple walk away.

    A city child's summer is spent in the street in front of his home, and all through the long summer vacations I sat on the edge of the street and watched enviously（嫉妒地） the other boys on the block play baseball. I was never asked to take part even when one team had a member missing—not out of special cruelty, but because they took it for granted I would be no good at it. They were right, of course.

    I would never forget the wonderful evening when something changed. The baseball ended about eight or eight thirty when it grew dark. Then it was the custom of the boys to retire（撤退） to a little stoop(门廊) that stuck out from the candy store on the corner and that somehow had become theirs. No grownup ever sat there or attempted to. There the boys would sit, mostly talking about the games played during the day and of the game to be played tomorrow. Then long silences would fall and the boys would wander off one by one. It was just after one of those long silences that my life as an outsider changed. I can no longer remember which boy it was that summer evening who broke the silence with a question: but whoever he was, I nod to him gratefully now. "What's in those books you're always reading?" he asked casually. "Stories," I answered. "What kind?" asked somebody else without much interest.

    Nor do I know what drove me to behave as I did, for usually I just sat there in silence, glad enough to be allowed to remain among them; but instead of answering his question, I told them for two hours the story I was reading at the moment. The book was Sister Carrie. They listened bug-eyed（瞪大眼睛的） and breathless. I must have told it well, but I think there was another and deeper reason that made them to keep an audience. Listening to a tale being told in the dark is one of the most ancient of man's entertainments, but I was offering them as well, without being aware of doing it, a new and exciting experience.

    The books they themselves read were the Rover Boys or Tom Swift or G.A.Henty. I had read them too, but at thirteen I had long since left them behind. Since I was much alone I had become an enthusiastic （狂热的）reader and I had gone through the books-for-boys series. In those days there was no reading material between children's and grownups 'books or I could find none. I had gone right from Tom Swift and His Flying Machine to Theodore Dreiser and Sister Carrie. Dreiser had hit my young mind, and they listened to me tell the story with some of the wonder that I had had in reading it.

    The next night and many nights thereafter, a kind of unspoken ritual (仪式) took place. As it grew dark, I would take my place in the center of the stoop and begin the evening's tale. Some nights, in order to taste my victory more completely, I cheated. I would stop at the most exciting part of a story by Jack London or Bret Harte, and without warning tell them that that was as far as I had gone in the book and it would have to be continued the following evening. It was not true, of course; but I had to make certain of my new-found power and position. I enjoyed the long summer evenings until school began in the fall. Other words of mine have been listened to by larger and more fashionable audiences, but for that tough and athletic one that sat close on the stoop outside the candy store, I have an unreasoning love that will last forever.

    NAIROBI­Tin Tin, a Chinese restaurant located in central Nairobi, has been serving local Kenyans for nearly four decades with its delicious dishes and unique cultural background.

   "This is a restaurant definitely worth a try," said Steven, a local resident in his 30s. "It has provided Chinese food since my grandfather's time."

    According to Henry Tin, the restaurant owner, Tin Tin was established in 1978 at the heart of the Nairobi Central Business District, upholding Chinese cuisines while adapting to Kenyan preferences.

    For years, it has become a defining part of the city's landmark­Kenya International Conference Center­attracting lots of office workers nearby and even presidential customers.

   "The former president of Kenya, Moi, was a very good customer for us. He came almost always in cash. Then former president Mwai Kibaki and now president Uhuru. They all like to enjoy our food," Tin said.

    Danis, an office worker of an insurance company near the KICC says he is a frequenter of the restaurant.

   "It is the only Chinese restaurant in the highly competitive downtown area. Besides, its food has been adapted to our taste," Danis said, "My favorite dishes are fried shrimp and fried pork, which you can also find in a Kenyan restaurant."

   "High­quality food consistently served over the decades has helped maintain loyal customers," Enoch Kivunaga said, at Tin Tin.

   "My experience depends on the customers. If I cook good food, they always come back, whether they are presidents or ministers," he said.

    Tin said he speaks Swahili well and perfectly pronounces local names, which shows the Chinese culture and its Kenyan counterpart are quickly combining. "I am a Kenyan Chinese. I love both great countries."

On Monday, a scientist and doctor Robert Winston is to formally ask a question in congress about what assessments the government has made "for requiring adults riding bicycles in city centres to heave a licence and third-party insurance". The letter below is the entirely imagined response I would like the government to make to him.

Dear Robert,

You ask what assessments we've made for your proposal about obliging cyclists to have licences and insurance. The brief answer is: none. Nor do we have any plans to do so.

Why? Again, the short answer is this: it's a silly and pointless thing to suggest, as evidenced by the fact that practically no countries or territories anywhere in the world require cyclists to be licensed, or to have compulsory insurance.

I suppose it's only fair if I explain why I think it is such a non-issue. It's pretty simple: such a plan would achieve pretty much nothing, while causing significant problems. More widely, any sensible governments will do everything in their power to get more people cycling, not to put pointless obstacles in their way.

Let's just take one example. As I'm sure you know as a doctor, one of the problems facing our nation is that the National Health System is likely to collapse under the caring for an increasingly overweight population. Inactive living is central to this. Even a fairly brief daily bike trip can have miraculous benefits for people's health.

Next, how would such rules even work? Would the licensing and insurance be just for adults, or also children? How would the system even be enforced-would it also require all bikes to be registered with number plates?

Finally, what would you hope to achieve by this? If you believe licensing transport users stops wrongdoing, can I point to you the data showing how a third of drivers admit to using handheld phones while driving, despite the law forbidding it.

So, to summarize：your plan would be to introduce a hugely new administrative scheme that would most likely have limited effect on the behaviour of averagely law-abiding (守法的) transport users who rarely harm others, while putting people off from this beneficial type of transport.

I'm afraid I just don't get it.