If you ever spent time in Fujen University's Wenyou Building, or studied in the School of Communication, then you surely know her: "Wenyou Auntie," "Wenyou Grandma," "Mary."
These are the names the School of Communication students called her. For years, no one knew her real name, so everyone just used nicknames. Even back when Facebook was just starting, someone anonymously created an account for her, "Wenyou Mary"—the Wenyou from the building, as if this place was her birthplace, though of course it wasn't run by her personally.
Actually, Auntie's real name is "Guan Meihua," which I only learned when I heard the news of her retirement.
Why am I writing about her today? Because Auntie quietly cared for Fujen University's Wenyou Building for 27 years, and on February 27, 2018, she retired.
Wenyou Building has four floors in a rectangular layout belonging to the School of Communication, housing the departments of Journalism, Advertising, and Film & Media Studies, with an evening extension program in Mass Communication—four departments total, plus graduate students, with over 1,200 students using this space.
Photography studios, performance halls, editing rooms, broadcasting studios, and as many as 20 classrooms…Auntie cleaned all these spaces single-handedly. With both day and evening students, Meihua Auntie's working hours were longer than anyone else's.
And so, over 27 years, every single day, Auntie rode her motorcycle at 5:30 a.m., arriving at Wenyou Building to immediately open and clean every classroom, waiting for students to arrive. After a rushed lunch around 1 p.m., she returned to Wenyou Building to sort through the trash everyone left behind, until 10:30 p.m. when the evening students finished class.
Every day, Auntie was the first to arrive and the last to leave. When sorting trash, she was meticulous, picking up each piece individually to sort it properly—a task that took 2.5 hours every time.
These years left their marks on her palms and hands—traces of her care for Wenyou Building. Yet she lived each day joyfully, constantly reminding us to sort our trash properly, not to stick bamboo skewers in the trash bins or she'd get hurt.
Auntie also made the most of her time, cleaning every bathroom during the break between day classes and evening classes. If students forgot to turn off lights, she'd gently remind them, "Turn off the lights—save the polar bears." She'd also chat warmly with the students.
It's been six years since I graduated from university. What stands out most to me about Auntie is her punctuality—locking the door at exactly 10 p.m. every night. Our stairwells were divided into left and right sides, and the left side locked first—the stairs I used most often. Once Auntie locked up, I'd have to walk all the way around to the opposite stairwell to get downstairs, so my classmates and I often raced against the clock every evening. (Yes, I was an evening student.)
Time flew by. On her retirement day, the teaching assistants of the School of Communication organized a farewell reception. When Guan Meihua Auntie watched videos of past students, silent tears streamed down her face.
↓ The touching video brought me to tears as well
↓ Certificate for Wenyou Building's Best Guardian
Actually, Guan Meihua came from Indonesia. Over these years, her dedication has been witnessed by every student and teacher at Fujen University's Wenyou Building. Everyone gave her a gold ring as a token of gratitude—with a sunflower pattern on it, meaning that Auntie is like the sun, illuminating students and keeping the classrooms and environment spotlessly clean, providing us with a comfortable space.
27 years, day after day. I truly thank Guan Meihua Auntie for her care. Her dedication and professionalism are deeply admirable, and I dedicate this to my university youth—precious, gone, and never to return.
Photos: Generously provided by alumni
