Only in mysterious China could one experience the unlimited potential of humanity.
In any other country, it would have been scary to see 80,000 people gather on a square. Of course, India did not count.
Somebody lifted the eastern curtain to reveal a beam of sunlight, but the naughty sun was reluctant to come out. It just lightened the sky as a troop walked through the gate of Tiananmen.
At 6:05 a.m, a strong melody echoed around the square. "Across the mountains, across the plains, across the Yellow River and the Yangtze River..."
Suddenly, silence prevailed around the square, despite the thousands of people gathered there. Thirty six flag guards walked along the middle line, their powerful steps clear against the ground. The scene reminded everyone of the ups and downs China had experienced during the previous century.
When the guards reached the platform with the jade fence, four flag-bearers walked out.
"Stand up against slavery..."
At 6:11, one of the flag-bearers spread the flag against the wind. As the flag rose up, everyone started murmuring the national anthem.
"Stand up! Stand up! Stand up! With one mind, we march under the enemy's fire..."
The spectators sang louder and louder. Qin Guan took Cong Nianwei's hand as he sang devotedly.
No words could express his feelings. One had to be there to understand. Something surged in everyone's hearts. It was the words, "I love my motherland. Anywhere, anytime…"
When the flag reached the top of the pole, the ceremony came to an end. The soldiers retired together, leaving the flag blowing in the sky against the rising sun. Then a strange silence followed.
Not long afterwards, the spectators burst out together, expressing their emotions.
"Long live our motherland!"
"Long live the people!"
Their roars shook the sky without the help of a loudspeaker. People from different backgrounds had gathered there for that moment. It would be a memory they would never forget.
Everyone collected the trash from the ground before they left. They didn't want to leave any garbage on that holy place. The spectators left in order, as if in a dream.
On the way to the airport, the taxi driver chatted with Qin Guan.
"Did you see the ceremony?"
"Yes!"
"Are you going home?"
"No, just back to college."
"You seem like good students. You must love your country!"
Even after many years, that scene would still linger in Qin Guan's mind. He might forget some exciting job he had accepted, but he would never forget that ceremony.
"Those flag-bearers were so handsome..." Cong Nianwei murmured on the airplane.
As he was thinking about the possibility of trying on a uniform, Qin Guan received a phone call. It was Qu Xuemei, who took care of his work in New York. It was a temporary, but important job.
"Qin Guan, are you back?"
"Yes!"
"Let's get to work then. Check your email!"
The Public Advertising Service had the support of the New York City Hall and the local police. Both the social groups and the City Hall had taken action.
The slogan "Work With A Star" could be seen everywhere in New York. Posters of Qin Guan were pasted on the walls of shopping malls. His smile had spread all over the city.
Even ordinary citizens who never watched indie films or read fashion magazines had gotten familiar with the Asian young man through those posters. They considered him a guy who was very enthusiastic about community activities.
Unlike in China, in the US most work relative to city construction was carried out by the residents themselves.