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兴城市纪委监委：精准监督有“温度” 看病就医没“难度”_我的网站

一 |     李佳桐 《日报》全媒体记者 谢倪                    　　“这回到医院挂号再也不用等大半天了，上次我缴费就等了将近1个小时，现在20分钟就都解决了。    

    Chen Aijun works in an optical shop in Chengdu, southwest China's Sichuan Province, Aug. 14, 2026. (Xinhua/Lu Youyi)The video came with almost no instructions.
There was no narration explaining the mythology behind palaces rising above an ocean of clouds in the video, nor subtitles identifying the heavenly gates, cranes or tiny figures moving beneath them.
Yet viewers outside China quickly began naming the world for themselves.
Some called it "paradise." Others saw a "Celestial Palace" or an "Immortal Realm" familiar from Chinese fantasy games and television dramas. One user wrote, "Waiting on Wukong to show up," invoking the Monkey King from the Chinese literary classic "Journey to the West," or the hit game "Black Myth: Wukong."
The interpretations differed, but viewers did not seem to need the same cultural knowledge to enter the conversation.
Earlier this month, Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson Mao Ning shared the 33-second AI-generated video on social media with a question: "What does the Chinese heaven look like?"
It opened up a hermeneutic discussion, with responses overseas suggesting a cultural image does not necessarily need to elicit exactly the same interpretation for everyone in order for it to be viewed meaningfully.
"The right to interpret ultimately lies with the audience," said Zhang Zheng, deputy dean of Tsinghua University's School of Journalism and Communication.
People encountering unfamiliar cultures inevitably draw on what they already know, Zhang said. Rather than fully grasping every cultural reference, what matters is whether audiences can encounter the work, understand it and respond to it emotionally.
Before strangers abroad could interpret this particular world, however, it first had to get out of one man's head.
Chen Aijun, 34, is an optometrist in Chengdu, capital of southwest China's Sichuan Province.
By day, Chen leads a quiet, down-to-earth life in a neighborhood optical shop. Inside, he worked among eyeglass frames and optometry equipment. On his computer was another landscape entirely: cloud seas, immense palaces, flying cranes and figures in ancient robes.
Chen's heaven did not come from any single ancient text.
Growing up in the 1990s, he watched "Journey to the West" and later encountered "The Investiture of the Gods," xianxia (immortal heroes) novels and fantasy games. Those stories mixed over time with images of Chinese architecture and landscapes he saw online.
He has never visited nearby Mount Emei, and most of what he knows of Mount Huangshan's famous sea of clouds comes from videos.
What appeared on his screen was therefore not a reconstruction of one fixed mythological scene, but a world shaped by traditional stories already filtered through television, novels, games, the internet and his own memory.
For years, Chen had no way to make that world visible.
He never studied painting, design, photography or 3D modeling. After high school, he joined his parents' optical business and eventually took over the shop.
Generative AI changed the gap between imagining an image and possessing the technical skills to show it to someone else.
More than a year ago, Chen began teaching himself through free online tutorials. In September 2025, he started regularly posting AI videos, and a month later began experimenting with palaces floating above clouds. He has since published more than 200 videos.
The process, however, involves far more than entering a few prompts. The technology lowered the technical threshold, but it did not make the choices for him.
When creating Nantianmen, the mythical heavenly gate, Chen first defines the spatial rhythm and tonal hierarchy, pairing towering architecture and cloud seas with deliberately miniature figures to amplify the celestial realm's grand scale.
If the result does not match the picture in his mind, he tries again. He often generates over 1,000 images a day, revising a single scene repeatedly before moving on to animation, editing, color grading and music.
The machine can generate a thousand possible heavens. Chen still has to decide which one is his.
"AI-produced images can be soulless, and it takes human inspiration and aesthetic sensibility to endow works with warmth and vitality," he said.
Zhang believes Chen's experience reflects a broader shift brought about by generative AI. He said AI is giving people without conventional artistic training access to forms of expression that once required specialized skills. But what they create still depends on what they bring to the tool.
"A person's existing knowledge inevitably shapes how they use AI," Zhang said.
Chen brought his memories to the machine. Viewers abroad, in turn, brought theirs to the image.
"Everyone brings their own associations to these scenes," he said.
If his imagined world had to be reduced to three elements, he would keep clouds, architecture and people. The first two should feel immense, he said, while the last should remain small.
The details are culturally specific, but the visual effect is more immediate: tiny human figures dwarfed by vast clouds and monumental architecture. The responses suggest that viewers did not need to understand every cultural reference to find a way into the image.
Chen has no overseas social media accounts and learned that the video was attracting attention abroad only when friends sent him screenshots.
His life at the optical shop has changed little. He still checks eyesight and fits glasses when customers come in, then returns to his computer when the shop grows quiet.
He now hopes to make longer AI videos with fuller stories. He also wants to visit Mount Emei and, one day, Mount Huangshan.
For years, images of distant mountains and clouds reached Chen through screens. His imagined landscapes later traveled through screens to people he had never met.
Now he wants to see the real mountains and clouds for himself.
    Chen Aijun makes AI videos in an optical shop in Chengdu, southwest China's Sichuan Province, Aug. 14, 2026. (Xinhua/Lu Youyi)
。”“可不是嘛，有了纪检部门的监督推动，这回挂号看病不费劲了，这工作真是做到咱老百姓心坎里去了。”这是发生在兴城市人民医院一楼门诊大厅里的一幕。

二 |                    　　此前，兴城市纪委监委派驻第一纪检监察组在日常监督检查中发现，有群众反映兴城市医院就医挂号排队时间过长、自助挂号机功能单一、城区疫苗接种点位过少等问题。经调研走访，兴城市医院原有挂号机10台，均未联网，仅限用于挂号；城区内疫苗接种点只有温泉街道社区卫生服务中心一个点位。                   　　发现问题不难，难的是如何解决。兴城市纪委监委立足“监督的再监督”职能定位，联合兴城市卫健等部门与相关医院就群众反映的问题进行了会商。         　　“挂号机是否能够增加打印报告、网络报销等功能？”                    　　“城区内疫苗接种点位适当增加可不可行？”                    　　经多次与相关职能部门沟通协调及信息共享，督促其结合实际提出切实可行的解决方案，在兴城市纪委监委有效的监督推动下，兴城市医院今年新增挂号机19台，全部联网。此外，还增加了缴费、打印报告、网上报销等功能，大大改善了患者的就医体验，原来患者就医需要1—2小时挂号、缴费、在各科室间来回奔波，现在通过自助机，20分钟之内就能实现挂号、缴费、报告查询、住院押金缴费、网络报销等一体式服务，大大缩短了患者因排队、缴费等导致的就医时长，为患者提供了真正的便利。除此之外，还监督推动兴城市卫健局新增城区疫苗接种点位4个，现已审批完成并开诊2家，剩余2个点位正在积极改造审批中，力争10月底前完成，确保群众接种疫苗随到随接，让精准监督的“温度”化解看病就医的“难度”。                   　　同时，兴城市纪委监委做好全过程监督跟进问效，确保问题推进落实，取得实效。通过实地检查、随机抽查等方式，对患者就医的整体环境、服务态度等方面进行检查。对检查过程中发现的问题，当场提出整改建议，对于不能当场整改完毕的，要求限时整改，并将整改情况报送至纪检监察组，进一步提升群众看病就医的满意度，营造风清气正的就医环境。

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Published on:11:55:20