The night is forever in my memory. It was June 30, midnight to be exact. Standing in Tiananmen Square, among a jubilant crowd of tens of thousands of performers representing all of China's 54 ethnic groups, I saw their beaming smiles, heard their resounding cheers like peals of thunder and felt the warmth of the magnificent fireworks. Yet I failed to share their heartfelt laughter and cheerful voices.
As a Hong Kong reporter sent to Beijing to cover the handover ceremony of the city's return to China, a voice inside kept reminding me: calm down. As a journalist, I was supposed to be dispassionate. But, like many other Hongkongers, I felt that what was awaiting was a future not ours to see - even with Beijing's solemn promise of 'one country, two systems'.
Adding to my unease was what I had learned earlier that day from my Hong Kong colleagues when I called the newsroom.
'How do you guys feel'? I asked.
'Too busy to think,' came the reply from one. 'I'll have more time when I die! Who has the luxury to think, and I don't want to think about it anyway. By the way, it's pouring here, with lightning and thunder. What a day.'
'What?' I replied. 'The sun is shining here in Beijing.'