On your way to the hotel.

You collect your luggage and breeze through customs—nothing to declare. After all the chaos, you’ve become an expert at emptying and organizing your bag, even with the tangle of tech devices inside.

Navigating to public transport is a challenge. The city is smaller, and everything—signs, announcements, the murmurs of the crowd—is in Chinese. You catch a few people staring. Even in an airport, some aren’t used to seeing foreigners.

The bus to your hotel is already packed when you arrive. You squeeze in just as the doors are about to close, your backpack in one hand, the other holding the closest bar and your luggage jammed between your legs. For a brief moment, you gently press your back against a young woman to stand clear of the closing doors, the soft pressure of her body a fleeting reminder of earlier intimacies. Then, at the last second, a man shoves their way in, right in your face and the doors seal shut behind them.