Ah-Hong had barely opened his lunchbox when he elbowed Chien-Chih next to him, saying he'd been looking "really healthy" lately—was he secretly taking something good? Chien-Chih, mouth still full of rice, mumbled back, "No way, I can't even remember to swallow my vitamins." Old Chou, sitting across from them, set down his chopsticks and said slowly that he'd heard this kind of talk plenty of times. Every so often in the office, someone would bring up a certain name, and then everyone would chime in, each talking as if they all knew a "friend who really understands this stuff."
Ah-Hong was the first to offer his take. He said his cousin, who works in sales and has lots of business dinners and little sleep, had recently gotten all secretive about researching something from Japan. The packaging was covered in dense text, and his cousin could only make out a few Chinese characters before drawing his own conclusions. Old Chou shook his head and said that "judging just from the packaging" was the most dangerous approach, because the words on the package are meant for local people—once you change the language environment, a lot of the labeling's meaning shifts. Chien-Chih added that he'd once seen discussions online where some people described this kind of thing like a miracle cure, while others said they felt nothing at all, and the two sides argued endlessly.
The three of them went back and forth, and in the end none of them could reach any real conclusion. Ah-Hong's version was "I heard it's expensive." Old Chou's version was "I heard you should be careful." Chien-Chih's version was "I heard a lot of people are asking about it." The funny thing was, all three used the words "I heard," yet none of them had actually looked at an ingredient list, and none had asked a professional. The meal ended in a half-joking atmosphere. They packed up their lunchboxes, went back to their seats, and it was as if nothing had happened.
On the way home from work, Chien-Chih suddenly recalled that lunchtime conversation and found it somewhat interesting. He realized that what everyone was really discussing wasn't the product itself, but "what other people say." So he did something rather silly but quite effective: he wrote down every claim he'd heard at lunch, one by one, on a piece of paper, divided into two columns—one for "verifiable" and one for "pure rumor." After finishing, he laughed at himself, because "expensive," "effective," and "dangerous" all landed in the right-hand column.
He then thought: if he wanted to add more to the left-hand column, where should he start? What came to mind was first confirming how this type of product is classified in Taiwan—is it a food, a health food, or a prescription drug that requires a doctor's evaluation? This step didn't require any advanced knowledge, just checking whether the labeling and source on the package were clear. He also thought about how many people go straight to searching online, for example with keywords like Japanese Tengsu, but the first page of search results is often a mix of forum chatter, marketplace pages, and content farms, with huge variations in information quality. Rather than rushing to believe a particular post, it's better to first get clear on what question you're actually asking.
The next day at lunch, Chien-Chih brought that piece of paper to the office and spread it out on the table. Ah-Hong burst out laughing when he saw it, saying he was way too serious. Old Chou, however, leaned in to look and pointed at the right-hand column: "See? We talked for ages yesterday, and it's all in this column." Chien-Chih said he'd also done one more thing—he took out all the health supplements his family was currently taking, snapped a photo, and planned to bring them to his next doctor's appointment to ask about, and to check whether taking these together with other things might cause problems. Ah-Hong was stunned for a moment and said he'd never thought to ask; he just follows whatever others say is good.
Old Chou then added that his wife used to order things based on recommendations too, and later discovered that the warnings on the packaging were written perfectly clearly—she just hadn't read them. The three of them then reached a small consensus: from now on, whenever they hear some new name, don't rush to pick a side, and don't rush to dismiss it either. First ask three questions—what category is this, is the source clear, and is my own physical condition suited to it? These three questions require no professional background to ask, yet they can block most hearsay.
That afternoon, Chien-Chih put the paper in his drawer, feeling that this lunch had been worth more than he'd imagined. He hadn't reached any conclusion, but he'd found a better way to ask. Ah-Hong later stopped telling everyone "I heard it's expensive" and instead started asking, "Where did you see that?" Old Chou made a photocopy of the paper and said he'd stick it on the fridge to remind himself. An argument that began with a joke ended with no one convinced, yet it made all three of them a bit more wary of the words "I heard."
The story has no dramatic ending, just a very ordinary follow-up: Chien-Chih really did bring those bottles and jars to ask about them, and the person advised him to first sort out the duplicate items, then confirm the labeling one by one. When he came back, he added a few lines to the left column of that paper and drew a big X over the right column. He told me this was probably the first time this year he felt he wasn't being led around by advertising, but was deciding for himself what to believe and what to ask.
