Xuchang was a city so small that any place could be reached within five or seven minutes. Small, however, did not mean less people. Henan Province was the most populous in China, and considering that China was a country with 1.3 billion people, Xuchang seemed to be overflowing. Only in the afternoon, during their siesta time did the streets finally calm down. Yet, oddly enough, Ru Yi felt at home here - sensing a bliss that she couldn't define. While walking to the old Weng Feng Ta square after another long day at school, she saw people out for a stroll with families in the early evening.

If only I could take some of that happiness, Ru Yi wished, and sprinkle it all over MG Road 's stress-ridden streets in Bangalore. Or – but before Ru Yi could reach the next conclusion, she reached the tiny restaurant to which Liu Dong, one of her former English students, had invited her.

The restaurant was charming, consisting of six rickety tables, guarded by a small dog. Liu Dong was there already – he had bought a bottle of orange juice, and poured it out into small teacups. Orange juice in Chinese teacups. Noodles and eggs on a plate.

Liu Dong talked about Chairman Mao. "To me, he is still a great hero," he said. Ru Yi tried to ask him about Mao's failed policies.

"No one is perfect," he shrugged. "Do you like Gandhi?" he asked her in turn.

For a while, Ru Yi didn't know what to answer. Her mind whirled: Did she like Gandhi? Maybe yes. But a lot of people in India held Gandhi responsible for the partition of India. He gave away Pakistan. Was he responsible, really? Did she like Gandhi?

Did she?

Ru Yi reached for a pebble in her pocket. "Gandhi was a great hero," she finally said. The mind. What we think. What we say. Such a bridge. Unlike oranges, the mind can never be peeled and sliced.

More orange juice flew in the teacups. Liu Dong told a tale of Chinese lore. A tale of heaven and hell, and of chopsticks and spoons:

Once a wealthy Chinese man died. At the crossroads of heaven and hell, he was shown around by a friendly spirit. First he entered Hell. There was a lavish banquet going on. A great variety of food was on the table. But all the people at the table were malnourished. They were in pain, they were starving. They could not eat the food in front of them - placed in front of their bowls were really long chopsticks. Longer than the length of an arm. Too long to lift to ones mouth.
The Chinese man then said, show me Heaven. In Heaven, the same scene was replayed. But this time, the people at the table were happy. They were fat and healthy. The Chinese man was greatly surprised. He saw that the people in Heaven also had the same long chopsticks. "How are they able to eat then?" he asked. "Watch," said the friendly spirit. And the Chinese man saw. Without a word, he went and sat down at the table, picked up the chopsticks next to him, and fed the person in front of him.

"People in Hell only think of themselves. But the people in Heaven think of the other," said Liu Dong.

After they had finished dinner, Liu Dong asked her for 300 Yuan. He was going home for the Spring Festival and his employer on his first job hadn't paid him his salary as yet, he explained awkwardly. Ru Yi thought of the treat, of the tales and finally the despair that would have forced a young man of 21 to ask a foreigner, a stranger really, for money.

Like orange juice in Chinese teacups.

Only that sometimes, there is no teacup.

*

A day later, Ru Yi headed out to the suburbs, to fields and a park Liu Dong had pointed out to her during the dinner. Ru Yi couldn't quite imagine it, but after barely a few minutes of cycling, there they were: green fields. A muddy track led through them - the stalks of wheat were flattened by the hailstorm of the night before - little pools of slush and grime clung to the tyres of the cycle, and the winds that winged their way from Xinjiang across the desert plains up far north, making it music in Ru Yi's ears.

It was one of those moments, where for a minute, Ru Yi paused, rested against the cycle and got the feeling that all was slipping away - that time was moving faster than light and everything that is, will already be and will never be again.

The feeling accompanied her as she came across the park. The small trees there had bloomed into yellow. Ru Yi had not seen something like this in her life, that an entire tree changes colors. The same leaves that must have been green just a few days ago were now clothed in a riotous yellow.

Ru Yi's cycle broke down then, leaving it without a brake, and for an instant, she felt maybe it was because the trees were telling her something. Something that life had always told her but she never followed: to leave it all behind and be part of the moment. Just that one moment.
.