The train of time rumbles onward, and outside the window, flowers bloom, fruits fall. We sit on the train, passing streets now deconstructed, watching the candlelight of Victoria reduced to ashes, the lights on both sides fade into paleness. The flames of war have abruptly ceased, and behind the embers, the sea of humanity vanishes. Alone, you wonder where this train of time will take you.
In "The Embers," Eileen Chang writes about Hong Kong from the perspective of a Shanghainese of yesteryear. Shanghai and Hong Kong play out a tale of two cities in the Far East. Once, Huangpu District was ablaze with neon lights, permeated by a rare, aristocratic atmosphere. Swallows soared across the Huangpu River as spring blossoms, their chirping a breathtaking beauty. Little did anyone know that the swallows were actually singing the song of the setting sun.
Shanghai in 1949 evokes much imagination. Zhang Ailing lamented the people's preoccupation with luxury, their fleeting reflections in shop windows. A capitalist city ultimately taken over by the Communist Party seemed to have repeatedly foreshadowed Hong Kong's alternate ending.
From the British choosing Hong Kong over nearby Zhoushan, to the establishment of foreign concessions in Shanghai following the opening of trade under the Treaty of Nanjing, to the Nationalist government's missed opportunity to take over Hong Kong after the war, it's remarkable how history often deviates by mere millimeters. Yet, none of these stories is as moving as the fall of a major international financial center in the Far East.
