The early autumn wind blows through the streets, filled with fallen leaves. The alleys are overflowing with the thick Beijing accent, with rickshaw drivers and ever-flashing traffic lights. The crisscrossing streets and crowded queues everywhere. We walk through the crowded Tiananmen Square to the place described in the first lesson of our elementary school Chinese textbook. We witness the red flag and the spring breeze fluttering in the morning light, witnessing the brilliance of history and the current prosperity. The mottled stone walls and towering palaces in the Forbidden City are filled with memories from a hundred years ago. The exhibits on display and the quiet halls allow us to glimpse the past glory hidden in the cold words. Amidst the bubbling hot pots and the fragrant roast duck, Shichahai and the Temple of Heaven, once just graffiti in our textbooks, now, as we walk through the streets large and small of this Forbidden City, we suddenly understand what "the four corners of the world" mean. I think if possible, next time, it will still be Beijing. After all, the story is not over. This city, steeped in history and time, is still waiting.
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