The girl grew up watching the skyline of Shanghai.

In early mornings, a dreary sun illuminates the city through a haze of smog. In those days of coughs and aching lungs, skyscrapers erupt from the earth, reaching up and up to the clouds. Their colorless shapes morph into each other, languid, lethargic, still asleep. From the window of the 16th-floor apartment, a novice might interpret the city as lifeless. The girl made no such mistake as she gazed out to the distant horizon. It was simply resting, rejuvenating, waiting . . .

Each day would start like any other. They exited the building and were hit by the refreshing cold. Grandmother and her, hand in hand. As they walked, the two recited nursery rhymes and traditional poems that had been told to the girl since birth. She relished the crisp syllables formed through the click and skip of the tongue or the subtle purse of the lips, each character a puff of air that dissipated into the winter chill, a gentle reminder of her mother tongue – her identity.

The path to school stretched under the imposing skyscrapers. Trees planted with precision and care rose from the curb, perfectly apart. In the summertime, emerald leaves would arch above and enclose the path, shading the traveler from heated sunshine. But now, the bitter cold has stripped its branches bare. Skeletal brown relics barred the dull, grey sky. Like the cage of a bird, thought the girl.

Despite the wind that rattles the bone and freezes the core, early-risers walked, dispersed on the street. Pairs of old ladies exchanging the day’s gossip, their thick coats an auspicious red. Grandparents and their toddlers on a stroll after breakfast. Students hurrying to another day of class.

Amidst this commotion, there were those who were still: an elderly lady sitting on a wooden stool, next to her display of handicrafts. An old man selling roasted potato and corn, the sweet aroma exuding from a black furnace. An erhu player immersed in his arts, the music stretching thin, trembling whole, all provoked by the expert stroke of a bow. This, harmonized by the beeps and growls of vehicles from the road beyond, created the symphony that pulsed with the city.

The girl was attuned to this scenery. She experienced it every day, yet it never failed to elicit a tender smile from her lips. It was the Shanghai she knew so well. She was raised under this skyline which she called home. She heard her breath in the winds, felt her pulse in the streets, saw a part of herself etched into the skyscrapers. She belonged here – the place that had shaped so much of herself. Its shadow was like a refuge, keeping her safe against what the outside might bring. She could dwell forever in its comforts, and indeed she thought she would. Until school began.

Attending an international school had instantly set her apart from others. It started with her Western-style uniform, which attracted a distinct, inquisitory glance from passers-by on the street. With the tracksuit jacket and pants worn by the other children, her tie and blazer belonged to another realm. At first, she was unconcerned with those differences. Due to the untroubled abandonment of childhood, she did not care to know why she wore a blazer, why her teachers sported blonde hair and blue eyes, why they taught in that strange, elusive language where anything could be expressed through 26 precious symbols. But as the years ebbed away, as thoughts of dolls and cartoons forfeited to reading and study, the girl came to a revelation: she had a promise. A promise that one day she would immigrate to the foreign world with which she was vaguely acquainted, and, to do so, she would leave much of this behind.

The thought of it lingered at the back of her mind. An ever-present pressure that would overwhelm her when she least expected. Mundane moments, like dinner, or a playdate, or now, on the way to school. It would creep in and grip her in a chokehold. Her vision was replaced by a blaring reminder of what she would lose – this moment, this place, this life. She would lose the soulful music, the sweet smell of roast, the ambience of it all. She thought she might even lose part of herself, a part of who she was. The girl hunched her shoulders and bowed her head as if she could hide from this feeling. But it was something inside of her. A force she pushed back as far as she could. Never far enough.

Time moved on all the same. Days merged into months, into years. The same walk to school, the same classes. The drone of teachers, and the make and break of friendships. After school, she tackled her homework as the sky dimmed outside. Immersed in the loops, crosses, and dots of her writing, she would pause and look up, to be greeted by the skyline of Shanghai. The smog had cleared. From the deep slumber of day, skyscrapers awoke vibrant and bright. Iridescent glimmers scattered like stars at its base, layered by gleams that beamed impossibly high, into the heavens above. A radiance adorned each structure, illuminating its dimensions with vivid clarity. It combated the engulfing darkness with an undying spirit, achieving a contoured glow around its outline. The city was alive.

The lights kindled in her a quivering ember, growing stronger and stronger. One day, the girl thought, this will be gone. But will it? Simply vanish? That cannot be. For this was not a city she resided in, not an environment she grew up in. She was a part of it, and it was a part of her. It was present in her smiles, her tears, her being. It is something inherent and imperishable. Something the girl could never lose, so long as she cherished it.

So, beneath the highrises, she vowed to cherish it forever, and somehow longer. It was as if, by cherishing it, she could maintain a piece of herself, a ghost of her past.

Soon after, the sky darkened once again from the window of a cabin compartment. The glows and glimmers, so brilliantly bright, pierced her heart and seared her soul. Through her muddled vision, she acknowledged its familiar beauty one last time. Too soon, they rose into the clouds, crossing the threshold to that other realm. The light still in her eyes, she left behind the skyline of Shanghai.