Back to the beginning, to find the self she had once lost.

  She was never supposed to come back—but six years later, here she was.

  But the city had changed too much, too fast, leaving Cheng Yi feeling both at home and out of place. The familiar parts were the memories that clung to her, never letting go. This city had cradled her dreams, witnessed her downfall, and her painful departure.

  Sitting in the back of the taxi, she watched the bustling streets and the stop-and-go traffic outside the window, while the radio blasted a rapid stream of traffic updates. It was all too much, she could barely keep up.

  Then a street sign flashed by. That place—once a cluttered, crumbling urban village—was now part of a sleek, glittering business district. It was a silent, constant reminder: everything had changed.

  Time never waits. And nothing stays the same.

  This sense of disorientation and loss made sleep impossible that night.

  The lights outside her window seemed like countless eyes, always watching, always questioning: Why did you come back?

  Yes, why had she come back here at all?

  As time passed, her anxiety and unease snowballed, growing so heavy she could hardly breathe. She wanted nothing more than to pack her bags and flee the city all over again. A thousand tangled emotions crept into every corner of the room, leaving her nowhere to hide. Instinctively, she curled up in the corner of the bed, wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, and pressed both hands to the dull ache in her chest. Before she knew it, her eyes were misted with tears.

  Half-awake, she was jolted back to reality by the sharp ring of her phone alert. It cut through the silence, dragging her out of the depths of her despair.

  She weakly turned off the alarm, then remembered she should let someone know she had arrived safely. Hastily, she picked up her phone.

  "I’ve arrived safely."

  She was deeply grateful there was still someone in this world she could say that to. Before she could set the phone down, a reply came through, and a wave of calm washed over her troubled mind.

  "Up late? Don’t forget your meds."

  The tide of sorrow that had been surging within her all night was completely blocked by that one line. Of course. Why had she even sent a message at this hour?

  What a way to embarrass herself.

  Burying her face into the pillow, she tried to smother the sudden pang of regret. But the tightness in her chest only stirred for a moment… then slowly dissolved into a deep exhaustion.

  And this time, at last, sleep came.

  ---------------------------------------

  The next morning, Cheng Yi rushed out to meet an agent and start looking for a place to rent, it was so early that she didn’t even have time for breakfast.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  By midday, she had found a flat she liked in a familiar neighborhood, and with that, a sense of peace settled over her. Only then did she realize how hungry she was, so she wandered down the street, searching for something to eat.

  Thankfully, this part of the city felt as if time had stood still. The old shops still retained their traditional charm; the familiar dialects of neighbors chatting on the street eased her homesickness; even the old magnolia trees, fragrant after the rain, continued to offer their delicate scent to passersby, just as they had years ago.

  Some memories need the call of a familiar accent, and even more the stimulation of the taste buds, to be fully revived. The flavors of home are a powerful pull, first and foremost through the allure of local cuisine.

  Though much had changed, the food remained as delicious as ever.

  The small family-run restaurant across from the park entrance was still open, serving up tasty, affordable dishes to a steady stream of customers. The owner was as gruff as ever, but that didn’t deter the crowds. People found their own seats and ordered calmly, all yielding to the undeniable pull of their taste buds. Cheng Yi had often been part of that long line in the past, all for a bowl of rich, springy beef brisket noodles.

  Unlike most people who compare several places before deciding on a rental, she had politely declined the agent’s other suggestions, insisting she only wanted a place in this neighbourhood. With just a few photos to go on, she chose a flat she liked, visited it once, and signed the contract on the spot—all within half a day.

  The agent couldn’t help but ask:"Miss Cheng, is there a particular reason you’re set on this place?"

  Out of professional courtesy, the agent felt obliged to remind her that the property might be reclaimed for redevelopment at any time, and suggested she consider a newer complex nearby.

  "Miss Cheng, just so you know, the landlord has added a clause to the contract, there won’t be any compensation if the unit is reclaimed."

  But Cheng Yi remained unconcerned.

  "That’s fine. A friend used to live here, so I’m familiar with the area."

  "Well, that’s good."

  At that, Cheng Yi’s eyes dimmed. She forced a faint smile.

  "But they’ve been gone for a while."

  The agent, sensing the change in her tone, wisely chose not to say much. He couldn’t help worrying about potential contract disputes that might damage the company’s reputation. He gestured toward a cluster of high-rise buildings in the distance.

  “Miss Cheng, have you thought about the riverside complex? A one-bedroom there costs about the same as the two-bedroom you’re considering. It’s rare for a unit to come up…”

  Cheng Yi looked up at the sleek apartments by the river, and for some reason, she decisively cut the agent off mid-sentence.

  "That won’t be necessary,"

  She suddenly realized how rude she had been, and she quickly thanked her agent for his help.

  The agent, well-versed in dealing with all kinds of clients, simply nodded. Customers are like gods, he mused. And gods always have their peculiar tastes and impractical whims.

  But really, why?

  Cheng Yi wondered on her first night in the apartment.

  This old neighborhood was on the verge of redevelopment. The buildings were aging, the facilities outdated, the surroundings unremarkable, even a little rundown. Worst of all, getting around was a hassle. And yet, she couldn’t help but enjoy being here. She liked the way the neighborhood buzzed with gossip in thick regional accents. She liked the mingling aromas of home-cooked meals drifting in from open windows at dusk. She didn’t mind the occasional sound of a mother scolding her child next door, nor the relentless clatter of mahjong tiles from the ground-floor apartment on weekends.

  And now, with the World Cup in full swing, the entire building seemed to wake up at once—erupting into cheers in perfect unison, shaking her from sleep.

  She cherished all of it, savoring every bit of this ordinary, messy, and yet deeply familiar life. Those long-forgotten memories quietly resurfaced, and a younger version of herself gradually became clearer.

  After years of running in circles, she had finally come to realize:

  Running away could go on forever.

  But this endless cycle of hesitation and escape, she no longer wanted to be trapped in it.

  Maybe it was time to return to where it all began.

  Maybe, just maybe, she could start over right here.