1      “I’m Not the Tour Guide!”

          Remember our first encounter? At the airport, you pointed at the last line on the list, looked at me, and asked, “Is this you?”

          Joining the tour was a last-minute decision, naturally landing me at the end of the line. I nodded, but how did you get that right?

          “Are you the tour guide?”

          A guide? Don’t bother me; I’m exhausted. I protested with a scowl: “No.”

          The other travellers chimed in, “We don't have a guide!”

         “How can such a big group not have a guide?” you muttered, furrowing your brow deeply.

          I blinked, too tired to argue. Scanning the crowd, I spotted a flustered elderly lady, a middle-aged couple who loved to bicker, a group of colleagues cracking jokes, a mother-daughter duo who barely spoke Chinese, and an auntie who only spoke a local dialect. Just as I was sizing everyone up, you started giving orders……

            “Let’s go! Keep your eyes on me!”

         Waving a bright yellow flag, you marched ahead, while we lugged our bags behind like dutiful ducklings.

      You zipped ahead while we struggled to keep up. You arranged for our luggage to be sent to the hotel first and whisked us onto another bus to start our sightseeing. You declared, “We’re racing against time.” I had heard tales of the efficiency of Chinese folks, but your brisk pace and seamless organization left me a tad surprised. It wasn’t until a few days later that I found out you were a former soldier in the PLA. So that’s where your speed and efficiency came from?

          Once everyone boarded, I lagged behind to avoid a seat scramble, thinking I'd just take whatever was left. But when I got on, there was only one lone seat left behind your royal perch. In that moment, I understood the cosmic joke at play.

          As we zoomed along the highway, you confidently grabbed the microphone: “Welcome to Beijing! You’ve come at just the right time; it’s autumn here. Autumn is the most beautiful time in Beijing, but it’s also the shortest. Every year, it only lasts a mere ten days……”

          As you spoke, I noticed the tension in your brows began to ease.  Was it the program finally on track or the charm of Beijing’s autumn? 

2      Breaking Away from the Group

          After dinner, I told you, “I’m breaking away from the group tomorrow. I won’t go to Tianjin with you guys.”

            Your face turned quizzical, “Got something to do?”

          “Nope, I just want to see more of Beijing and meet some locals.”

           “Where do you want to go?”

           “Like?”

           “Wangfujing.”

         “You mean, ugh!” You turned away, clearly unimpressed, then looked back, 

          “We locals don’t go there.”

          “Why?”

       “Things are overpriced, and it’s always jam-packed. That’s where all the scams and pickpocketing happen.” Then you launched into tales about shady characters: “Someone will bump into you, pointing to their dislocated shoulder, claiming you hurt them and demanding compensation. But their shoulder just pops out like that! Once they get your money, they’ll casually pop it back in, but they won’t let you escape easily. So, will you pay or not pay?”

          You continued, “A bunch of people squeeze together to buy cheap stuff. You jump in, thinking you scored a bargain, only to realize you’ve been played. How? Because the ‘buyers’ were in cahoots with the sellers; they were just putting on a show. And……”

        One story after another, you seemed to be trying to dissuade me from going solo. But little did you know, your amusing anecdotes only fuelled my curiosity for adventure. “Is Beijing really that unsafe?” I teased.

          “Beijingers are pretty civilized,” you responded, full of self-assuredness, “It’s just all those transient folks messing things up.”

          Well, there was no turning back now, evidently.

     The next day, I held my map like a warrior’s shield and ventured out solo……

3     The Modern Twist

         Another day passed, and when I ran into you, I couldn’t resist flaunting: “I wandered around all day yesterday; I’m pooped.”

          “Where did you go?”

          “Wangfujing and Xinhua Bookstore.”

          “We went to a bookstore in Tianjin.”

          “I visited Liulichang.”

          “We went to Tianjin’s Ancient Culture Street.”

          “I had dumplings.”

          “We hit up Tianjin’s snack street.”

        You kept comparing, showering cold water on my excitement as if to say, “Nothing special, why break away?”

          So I shot back, “I also went to Xidan.” Xidan is like Beijing’s Oxford Street; Tianjin could never compete.

          You were at a loss for words, just as I’d hoped.

     I pressed my advantage, “At Xidan, everyone speaks Mandarin.” My implication was clear: didn’t you just say Xidan is a place that Beijingers avoid.

          You quickly countered, “Well, outsiders speak Mandarin.”

          “I mean people from outside Beijing, not just any outsiders.”

      You had no comeback, so I casually changed the subject, “Xidan has amazing customer service.”

          I noticed you beginning to look at my jacket, a well-known Chinese brand: Li Ning.

          “Xidan’s window displays are also pretty unique.” I remembered the promotional slogan plastered on the wall: “Youth never goes on sale; beauty is at a hundred percent.” It was both ancient and modern, fitting perfectly between tradition and a sense of the times. It gave a real feel of China.

          “Bought it at Xidan?” You pointed at my jacket, interrupting my thoughts.

          “280 RMB; is that expensive?” I had just arrived in Beijing and had no reference for RMB values yet. In Singapore, I was equally clueless when it came to shopping. 

      You didn’t respond, just smiled. Then you held up the mic again, “Now, we’re about to reach the Forbidden City. The Forbidden City is from the Ming and Qing Dynasties……”

          What’s Ming and Qing Dynasties? In your smile, I realized our conversations would have a sequel. The chatter of modern life was just a temporary interruption of history…… 

4      A Soldier in Playboy

          Of course, another day arrived, and you strutted in a denim vest over your t-shirt. You pointed to the brand buttons, cheerfully asking, “What do you think of this?”

          I knew very well you weren’t talking about the buttons themselves but your entire outfit and taste.

          “USA, Playboy.” You beamed, quite proud of yourself.

          “Where’d you get it?”

         “From a specialty store. We Beijingers only shop at specialty stores, so we’re guaranteed quality.”

          You couldn’t stop talking, almost bursting with pride.

          “How much?”

          “150 RMB,” you declared, satisfied.

     You laughed because you’d won. I smiled, thinking your laughter was infectious. Turns out, a former soldier can embrace fashion just like anyone else. People around the world have so much in common.

          I chuckled. For a moment I’d caught a glimpse of how genuine seriousness could cozy up to relaxation and simplicity. 

5      Soldier is Still Soldier

          But even without the uniform, you still had the heart of a soldier. As we passed Peking University and Tsinghua University, you said, “This is the cradle of our nation’s elites.”

          “How are the students doing these days?” I meant the student protests, of course.

          You didn’t catch on.

       I pressed on, “Like, the Democracy Wall, posters, speeches……”

          You abruptly cut me off, a hint of irritation in your tone, “Students’ job is to study! What nonsense is this?”

          Once we’d passed Peking University, you launched into a lecture: “Our next stop is the Summer Palace. The Summer Palace is……”

          Your eyes darted around, but they couldn’t seem to settle anywhere.

          I turned to look behind. It seemed everyone was slouching and snoozing! Most of our travel companions had succumbed to sleep.

          I read a sense of defeat and loneliness in your eyes.

          “It’s been a hectic few days.” I offered to lighten the mood.

         You shrugged off the mic, turning to me, “Visit the Summer Palace to learn a lesson. A nation must be strong to avoid being bullied.”

          “What do you think of China today?”

          “The leadership still has the guts to make decisions.”

          I listened quietly to your commentary.

        “In 1949, we had just finished the Civil War and needed to recuperate but faced the Korean War shortly after. Fight or not? Russia made empty promises, and Korea looked at us. When Chairman Mao gave the order, we attacked! We bit the bullet and sent our own boys to the front lines.

          “You have to understand, we risked provoking a third world war. The leaders—couldn't lead without guts.”

          “What about this generation?”

        “They’re too soft. They debate endlessly just to join some international trade organization. Honestly, who cares if we join?” You ranted more vigorously, speaking louder and louder, not caring that our fellow passengers might find you bothersome.

         “On what grounds does America think it can dictate others?” You became more and more animated, speaking for a solid ten minutes with your fervor practically inflating your cheeks.

          In those moments of impassioned rhetoric, I felt like a prisoner on trial. Back home, I tend to flip channels whenever political news airs. But now, you were giving me a thorough lesson in political education, utterly unavoidable. Your enthusiasm left me momentarily speechless, nodding faintly in hopes of easing your frustrations. 

6      The Pigeon King Got Angry

          This time, you were really upset.

          After visiting the Ming Tombs, we had a long walk back to the parking lot. Behind us, some comrades were chatting and snapping photos, dragging behind the main group. Eventually, the stragglers inadvertently wandered into another parking lot and, feeling no rush, started browsing at stalls for souvenirs. As they haggled over prices, you appeared, panting and agitated…

          “Get on the bus! No time to shop! I thought you got lost, so I had to turn back to find you!” you shouted.

          Seeing the irritation on your face, everyone hurried back to the bus. I could sense a storm brewing. Once the bus finally started moving, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone felt like kids who had misbehaved, scared to speak but still trying to maintain an adult facade without sounding too submissive.

          You picked up the mic, turned back, and smiled. Wow! That was quick; your earlier fury had vanished. Your voice resumed its usual calm tone: “Earlier, you all left me hanging, wandering off. Those scattered pigeons might not find their way back. Now how am I supposed to be the Pigeon King?”

          I relaxed. It wasn’t a scolding, but a heartfelt reminder. You called yourself the Pigeon King! Were we your wild pigeons?

        “Now, everyone, look outside.  The leaves are turning red; this is the outskirts of Beijing……”

          With a flick of your wrist, a storm passed without a trace. I almost wanted to hop off to grab a few red leaves to take back to the lion city…… 

7      Damn it!  The “Li Ning” Jacket

          “Get on the bus for a snooze. Snap some pics when we get off. Singaporeans love to shop!”

         My fellow travellers envied my “Li Ning” gear for several days. Finally, they couldn’t hold back and begged me to represent them and ask you if we could visit Xidan for some shopping. I knew this request would put you in a tight spot. You were always worried about the crew getting lost in Xidan, and all the potential mishaps. But you couldn't outright refuse.

          So that day, I traipsed to Xidan, and nothing happened, right? No one knew my secret: I only spent a half hour there!

          You furrowed your brow, glaring at my cherished “Li Ning” jacket, and suddenly I felt guilty.

          I took off the jacket and left it in the bus, feeling awkward wearing it. It was just causing trouble!

          Before dinner, you announced, “Let’s compromise. We won’t go to Xidan; we’ll go to Wangfujing instead.”

       “Toss me some shrimp, at least!” my fellow travellers quipped.

          Little did they know, by the time dinner occurred, we didn’t even have shrimp anymore. Because while we were enjoying our meal, you received word that two of our team had lost their passports; you needed to handle the situation…… 

8      The Sagacity and Sorrow of Sagittarius

          No trip to Xidan, no visit to Wangfujing. Back at the hotel, you said goodnight.

          But I felt the night was still young, so I snuck out again. Despite your warnings and the recent passport incident, I still let you down. After all, shouldn’t one not let fear of choking stop them from eating?

          So it went. Over the week, I took late-night strolls through Hufangqiao, the Capital Theater, and Taoran Pavilion…...

          At Hufangqiao, simple scholars set up their book stalls, and I enjoyed conversations with them.

          At the Capital Theater, it seemed like everyone was lost in their own world, quiet audience members versus raucous performances on stage. I was bored by the show on stage but captivated by the eclectic reactions of the crowd below.

          At Taoran Pavilion, a group of middle-aged women danced joyfully, carefree and merry.

          …...

          Early the next day, you asked me, “Where did you wander off to last night?” After a week together, you had come to terms with my untamed Sagittarius ways.

          “Lao She Teahouse,” I reported back, detailing the twists of the night, the antics of the performers, and next week’s lineup.

          You inquired, “Did you see anyone jump up during the show, waving their towels?”

          “Were there many foreigners?”

          “How much was a ticket?”

    You get it. This kind of entertainment is reserved for gentlemen and ladies, those who clap politely and don’t wave towels around. Yes, the teahouse isn’t located in the Tianqiao area anymore. And the Tianqiao neighborhood? It's now devoid of street performers and the buzz of excitement. Your casual questions chilled my heart. After all the effort I put into exploring these past few days, I believed I’d begun to sense the pulse of Beijing. But your probing made me question my confidence and evoke deeper reflections.

          Hufangqiao, with its desolate book stalls, how much longer can the old scholars hang on?

          Capital Theater, in this era of cultural decline, how might we transition into the future?

          Taoran Pavilion, upon closer inspection, my satisfaction stemmed merely from verifying newspaper reports: the resurgence of folk dancing, yet where was the vitality?

          Lao She Teahouse, I initially thought I was connecting with traditional folk arts and feeling elated. But your reminders left me feeling distant; if folk art no longer resonates with the people, can it still be considered folk art? My motivations for seeking these cultural arts—was it nostalgia or just showing off back home saying, “Hey, I experienced the genuine Beijing!”?

          Regardless, this was far from the proximity I’d hoped to achieve with Beijing and its people, and it sparked self-reflection. For these past few days, have I merely been feeling around in the dark?

          Was my understanding only scratching the surface?

          Has my vision been impaired, only seeing what I want to see and overlooking the rest? I recalled an analogy. If you draw a circle with all that you know inside it, expanding that circle seemingly means you understand more, yet by broadening it, the circumference grew, revealing a vast amount that you don’t understand. The more clueless one is, the more effort they invest to expose their ignorance. 

9      The Paradox of Quitting Smoking

          Feeling defeated, I fell silent.

        You noticed my unusual quietness and asked, “Feeling sick?”

     I prepped to converse, fiddling with a Chinese stomach medicine you had. Just a few days before, you kept complaining about the hectic schedule without time to rest. I repeatedly mentioned that where there's a will, there's a way. Today, you finally brought the pills with you!

         “Do you think smoking is the cause of your stomach issues?”

          “Absolutely.”

        “Then quit!” Just as you fell into my trap. You surprised me……

          “I’ve tried, but can’t shake it.”

        “I heard acupuncture could change your taste buds and help quit smoking.” You’ve often touted Traditional Chinese Medicine, describing different types of gastric issues, how they vary in warmth and chill.

          “…...” You went silent.

          “Your Deng Xiaoping just decided to quit!” I knew of your admiration for the first generation of leaders.

          Eventually, you admitted: “I just don’t want to quit.”

          “If you don’t quit smoking, you won’t get better.”

          “Because folks in my line of work need to connect with the guys.” Seemingly simple choices concealed layers of complexity. I leaned back, fully content to keep quiet. Nothing was motivating me today; nothing felt quite right. But wait—there was one last task: my fellow travellers had entrusted me with the tip for you.

          I’d never felt more restless than now. What if I became tongue-tied and embarrassed? 

10      The Pigeon King’s Gamble

          On the way to the airport, you suddenly announced a special detour; the driver would stop halfway for everyone to visit a food market one last time and do some last-minute shopping before taking off.

          I didn’t have time to protest, nor could I have stopped you. I omitted that on the day we flew from Singapore to Beijing, folks were delayed by ten minutes while trying to make free phone calls.

          I thought your choice was quite bold. When did you start embracing my impulsiveness? But as reckless as I am, I wouldn’t take risks at the last minute. You saw I hesitated to get off the bus and urged me, “Come on, stretch your legs! There’s still time.”

          Your mysterious smile suddenly told me: you were testing yourself! You were gambling! You wanted to see if we had become more disciplined after a week of training or if I’d take this as your final challenge.

          I strolled one last time through the streets of Beijing, weaving through thick sweaters and bundles of golden persimmons, navigating through the bustling crowd…… Sweaters, persimmons, and crowds reminded me it was autumn in Beijing.

          With only five minutes left before our meeting time, I spotted you standing outside with one finger raised, smiling at me.

          “Everyone’s here, just waiting for you.”

          A smirk? I didn’t believe it.

         “If you’re late, we’ll leave without you,” my comrades teased as I boarded the bus. They leaned over, tongues flopping, mimicking the melodic Beijing dialect, joking endlessly.

          I scanned for headcounts.  Everyone was present. You chuckled slyly; it was the first time I’d seen you grin so broadly, your forehead free of tension.

          Yes, you won again! 

11      Epilogue

          You ushered us through customs and as an impromptu tour leader, I collected the passports, arranged our seating, and ensured our luggage was weighed. None of it was difficult, but my mood felt heavy. Those frowning brows of yours—when did they settle on my forehead? Somehow, I was glad for the absence of free phones at Beijing’s airport.

          One by one, my fellow travellers boarded the plane, and I sighed in relief. Suddenly, I realized at the airport farewell, I forgot to shake your hand……

          The plane took off!

          The captain announced, “Look through the clouds, and you might catch a glimpse of Beijing, perhaps even the Great Wall……”

          I wanted to tell him: Seeing the Great Wall isn’t what matters most to me. Because the Beijing I’ve experienced isn’t just the Great Wall or the Forbidden City or the historical Beijing; it’s not merely the imperial and regal.

    The Beijing I walked through is honest; it’s autumn;  refreshing; it carries a strong sense of national pride; it's perplexing, heavy, and contradictory, yet bursting with wit and confidence…...