BORDER scene, take one: 5.55 am, July 1, 1997. The checkpoint at Lowu is about to open. On the Hong Kong side, music retailers with lorryloads of compact discs and cassettes prepare to surge into what they hope will be the world's largest consumer base opening up.
On the Chinese side, bands and singers, microphones in one hand and Hero fountain pens in the other, wait to rush through the checkpoint and grab multimillion-dollar recording contracts that will make them rich, famous and glamorous.
Five to 10 years ago, this could well have been the scenario many in the music industry had in mind for the day the British finally relinquished their rule on the territory.
Pessimistic Hong Kong singers - already facing fierce competition from new local singers, a saturated market and piracy problems - were understandably worried that, once the floodgates opened, their northern cousins would pounce on dwindling opportunities.
The more optimistic, however, looked forward to being able to do a road tour of every big city in the motherland and return home with trainloads of yuan.
Now the big day has arrived, there has been little substance to support the optimists' hopes or the pessimists' fears.