Private Beijing

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The lights of Beijing, city of twenty-two million souls, stretched as far as the eye could see and shimmered and danced in the July heat, adding a touch of magic to the darkness. Shang Li loved this city, his home, and paused at one of the viewpoints on Qiaobai Road to admire the sight of one of the most populous places in the world. All those lights, all those people, mostly living in harmony, striving to improve their lives, working, resting, playing.

The city hadn’t swallowed up the surrounding hills and mountains yet, but offshoots could be found in the intricate folds of the green surrounding valleys. There were reservoirs and power plants, quarries and industrial parks, and shops and restaurants to serve the workers. One day, Li suspected, the city of patriotism, innovation, inclusiveness and virtue — its core values — would extend even further. He wasn’t normally a cheerleader for official designations, but thought his city’s values a model for all to live by. He was a true patriot, always strived to do better, harbored no hate in his heart, and tried to be virtuous. But if everyone else in the city below lived by those values, he would be out of a job.

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