Update: This story has been included in a digital-first book called UNLOCKED: Memories of Wuhan.

Half a lifetime ago I lived in Wuhan. Hankou to be exact.

My memories are vague. When I boarded the overnight train leaving the city and stared across the window at friends waving me goodbyes, I left everything behind. The noisy walking streets, back alley chaos, humid summers, dusty breakfast stalls, all of which had faded into the hidden folds of my subconscious. The hubbubs of the city went first, the neighborhood second, following which the names and faces of friends and the girls I adored. Nothing much remained of my Wuhan-ness, except for my love for the spicy food, memories of biking around with my parents, and a deeply rooted impatience in the face of bullshit. Wuhanese people are direct; the brutal heat in the summer days renders beating around the bush unbearable.