Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 335

come to see. A myriad of people come and go every day, making the city thrive in the nourishment of countless
business opportunities. It has been living up to a different fate ever since then.
“Some say this is the old city coming to life, but some say this is the city’s demise. Either way, I’m not going to
judge. This is my home, no matter how much it has changed. I am still going to spend the rest of my life here
regardless of what it has become.”
I peer at the sky, silently as the patch of early burgundy start to engulf the last beam of sunlight. Evening is
gradually approaching, and the city looks so peaceful all of a sudden as if time has frozen still.
The city has a new tale, in exchange for its time-honored history. It has been reborn as something so fresh and
different, which simply cannot be determined as having become better or worse. But I do know that in spite of
the continuous cycle of bloom and perish, I will always have a home to run back into. It is the only thing that
will not change in time, for it will always be held within the depths of my heart. I give the artifact shop one last
glimpse. A sense of certainty overwhelms me as I look down at the jade laying atop of my palm.
T he Old City of Shanghai is my home, no matter how much it has changed , I think to myself.
Well. Let’s go home then.