By Darius
To me, Guangzhou has always held a special place in my heart. My grandparents have called this city home for over three decades—their lives so deeply intertwined with its pulse that it's hard to tell where they end and Guangzhou begins. They raised me with boundless love, and though I grew up attending school in Beijing, I've returned to Guangzhou every single year without fail. In many ways, this city feels like a second hometown to me.
I once wrote—with what some might call excessive sentimentality—that if I were a romantic wanderer, Beijing would be my steadfast spouse, while Guangzhou would be my passionate lover. I could never leave one, yet I'd never want to lose the other. The winds over Haixinsha whisper through my memories, carrying with them the glow of city lights and the gentle sway of the Pearl River, all of which have quietly found a permanent place in my heart.
This trip to the Greater Bay Area brought me back onto a cruise ship, sharing the experience with foreign consuls and business leaders who offered fresh perspectives on a city I thought I knew. One story, in particular, caught me off guard—a foreign friend shared how Guangzhou had been the backdrop for his own love story: a chance meeting, a deepening connection, and ultimately, a lifelong commitment. It struck me then that while Guangzhou will always be my Guangzhou, it belongs to the world just as much. This city has given me so much affection, yet it has also been a source of love for countless others.
The Pearl River's evening breeze was as tender as ever, our boat drifting past the Canton Tower's rippling reflection. As I leaned against the railing, taking in the neon-lit skyline, the angular silhouette of the Pazhou Convention Center suddenly transported me back twenty years, to a time when my grandparents held my hands as we explored an area that was still mostly open fields. Now, glass-and-steel giants rise where empty spaces once stretched.
That's the real magic of this city—it folds time into memory, tucking stories into the creases of my grandparents' smiles. By the time I thought to look for those moments again, dusk had already settled over the river.
As we passed beneath the Liede Bridge, the night sky lit up, scattering light across the water's surface. For a fleeting moment, I could almost see my younger self—a child leaning over the railing, devastated at having missed a cruise, while my family huddled around me in reassurance. That memory should have been tinged with sadness, yet now, all I can do is smile. Somewhere between the blurred edges of the past and the clinking glasses of this diplomatic reception, the Pearl River has gathered all our reflections—past and present—into its quiet, unending embrace.
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