He Laid His Search History Out on the Table, Only to Realize the Question "Where to Buy Japanese Tengsu" Was Itself the Problem

When A-Ming turned his laptop toward A-Fen, the screen was still crowded with search suggestions he hadn't closed. He'd only meant to look up one thing, but the more he searched, the messier it got—until he finally just carried the whole computer over to the dining table, like he was handing in homework. "Look, I typed this in, and a dozen storefronts popped up. Every one says it's the real deal, and every one says the others are fake." A-Fen glanced down and replied with just one line: "That's an American habit." A-Ming froze and asked what she meant. She said Americans are used to checking a brand's official site first, then finding authorized sellers—but here, a lot of people get fed ads until they're full before they ever turn back to look for the source. That sentence was like a needle, poking a hole in what A-Ming had assumed was "doing research."

A-Ming had started looking things up because after the company health check report came out, all kinds of "upkeep" topics started circulating among his coworkers. Some said exercise, some said sleep early, and some mysteriously mentioned a certain type of product. A-Ming didn't want to join the hype, but one night he couldn't help typing a few words into the search bar. He'd assumed that as long as he found one place selling it, that would be enough—but the pages that popped up got flashier one after another: countdown timers, "limited-time offers," storefronts calling themselves "exclusive agents," and some sites where you couldn't even tell who was running them. The more he looked, the more confused he got, because every one claimed to be the most reliable, yet not one let him see at a glance: where does this thing actually come from, who's responsible, and who do I go to if something goes wrong?

After hearing him out, A-Fen didn't laugh at him. Instead, she pulled a notebook out of a drawer. She said that when she'd looked up health-related things for the elders in her family before, she'd run into the exact same situation. Her method was clumsy but effective: first, split "what I want to buy" and "where to buy it" into two separate matters. What you want to buy is about your own needs; where to buy it is about confirming the source. A lot of people mix the two together, and that's how they get led around by the storefronts. A-Ming asked, so how do you confirm the source? A-Fen said the first step isn't looking at the price—it's looking at the labeling. Does the packaging clearly state the ingredients, manufacturer, importer, expiration date, and contact information? Those are the basics. If even those are being hidden or fudged, then there's no need to look any further.

A-Ming nodded, but still felt stuck. He asked, "But I just want to know where to buy Japanese Tengsu. Isn't that pretty intuitive?" A-Fen said the question itself isn't wrong—the mistake is treating it as the endpoint. Because that question leads you to "who's selling it," not "should I buy it, and how do I verify it after I do." She suggested A-Ming split the question into two parts: the first is "what do I need," and the second is "how do I confirm the source." That way, the search results are no longer a dazzling array of storefronts, but a pile of clues you can check. After hearing this, A-Ming turned the laptop back and typed a few words into the search bar again—this time, he didn't rush to click the first link.

The next day, A-Ming actually took that sheet of paper covered in search history to a pharmacy. He wasn't there to buy anything—he just wanted to ask. The pharmacist looked at his list and didn't directly answer "which one is good." Instead, he asked, "Do you normally take any other medications or supplements?" A-Ming said yes and listed a few. The pharmacist nodded and said this kind of thing can't be judged by a single product alone—you have to look at the whole picture. He suggested A-Ming write down everything he's currently using and bring it to his next appointment to ask a doctor or pharmacist, to confirm whether they might interact with each other. A-Ming had expected to be upsold, but from start to finish, no one told him to buy anything—which actually made him feel a bit more grounded.

On the way home, A-Ming thought about A-Fen's line, "That's an American habit." He suddenly understood: it wasn't that American habits are bad—it was that he'd thought of "doing research" as too simple. He'd assumed searching meant finding answers, but really, searching is just the starting point. The real answer isn't on a webpage—it's in whether he can ask the right question. He thought about how, when he'd seen those storefronts before, there was actually a voice in his head saying "this looks impressive," but he hadn't stopped to ask: "Impressive in what way? Says who? Is there any basis for it?" Now that he thought about it, that voice was the real reason he'd gotten more and more confused the more he searched.

At dinner, A-Ming relayed what the pharmacist had said to A-Fen. After listening, A-Fen just said, "So now you know—the question needs to change." A-Ming laughed and said he was going to keep that search history sheet as a reminder. He also wrote a few questions on the back: Who is this source? Is the labeling clear? Is there a professional I can ask? What do I actually need? He found that once he wrote these questions down, those flashy storefronts suddenly felt very far away, like they were behind a pane of glass. He was no longer in a hurry to find "where to buy"—instead, he first asked, "Am I ready?"

That night, before A-Ming closed his laptop, he glanced at the search bar one more time. He didn't type the same question again. Instead, he typed "how to verify the source of health products." He knew this question might not give him an answer right away, but at least it wouldn't lead him into one unfamiliar storefront after another. A-Fen came out of the kitchen and asked what he was doing. He said, "I'm practicing asking better questions." A-Fen nodded and said, "That's much more important than finding where to buy." A-Ming closed the laptop, and the chaotic mess of search history in his mind finally had a direction he could sort through.