The clatter of footsteps and the rhythmic hum of announcements echoed through the vast Shanghai Railway Station. Yousaf Khan and Muhammad Rafeeullah Jawaad, two young Pakistani medical students from Gannan Medical University, stood near the departure gate, adjusting their backpacks after a long journey from Jiangxi Province. They were discussing their upcoming exams when a sudden commotion shattered the routine atmosphere.
An elderly Chinese man, likely in his seventies, collapsed near a vending machine. His body trembled before going still, his face turning ashen. Gasps spread through the crowd, but hesitation held them back. It was an all-too-familiar scene—bystanders watching, afraid to intervene.
Without a second thought, they rushed forward, pushing through the gathering circle. Their years of medical training in China kicked in instantly. Yousaf dropped to his knees, feeling for a pulse, while Rafeeullah checked the man’s breathing. No heartbeat. No response. Time was slipping away.
“We need to start CPR,” Yousaf said firmly. Without hesitation, he placed his hands on the man’s chest and began compressions—counting rhythmically, methodically, as he had been trained. Rafeeullah tilted the man’s head back, delivering rescue breaths, ensuring oxygen reached his lungs.
A station worker hurried over, fumbling with his phone. “Should I call for help?” he asked in Mandarin.
“Yes! Get an ambulance now!” Rafeeullah responded in fluent Chinese, his voice urgent but steady.
Minutes stretched like eternity. Sweat dripped from Yousaf’s forehead, his arms aching as he continued compressions. The crowd, once hesitant, now watched in awe, whispering among themselves.
Then—a sudden, weak gasp. The elderly man’s chest shuddered. He was breathing.
Yousaf and Rafeeullah come from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, a rugged and resilient province of Pakistan, where the spirit of hospitality and courage runs deep.
Yousaf Khan, from Peshawar, is the eldest of four siblings. His father is a retired schoolteacher, and his mother, a homemaker, always dreamed of seeing her son become a doctor. Despite financial hardships, his family supported him wholeheartedly when he received admission to Gannan Medical University in China.
Muhammad Rafeeullah Jawaad, from Swat, comes from a family of traders. His grandfather ran a small textile business, and his father expanded it into a flourishing enterprise. But Rafeeullah had different aspirations—he wanted to heal, to save lives. His family encouraged him to pursue medicine, even if it meant studying far from home.
For these two young men, choosing to study medicine in China was a path filled with challenges—adapting to a new language, culture, and academic pressure. But it was all for a greater purpose: to become skilled doctors capable of making a difference.
As the paramedics took over, one of the station officers turned to the two young men.
“You saved his life,” he said, deeply moved. “Where are you from?”
“Pakistan,” Yousaf replied with a proud yet humble smile.
That night, the news of their heroism spread. The story of two Pakistani students who saved a Chinese man’s life became a symbol of the deepening friendship between the two nations. The Pakistani Embassy in China commended them, and messages of appreciation poured in from both Chinese and Pakistani communities.
For Yousaf and Rafeeullah, it wasn’t about recognition. It was about their duty—not just as medical students, but as humans.
“We came to China to study medicine so we could help people,” Rafeeullah later said. “Today, we just did what we were meant to do.”
And somewhere in Shanghai, an elderly man lived to see another sunrise—because two young men from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Pakistan, had the courage to act.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Coverpage’s editorial stance.
