Your color is black. The color of night. Serene and mysterious, black conjures up images of elegant evening gowns, dashing tuxedos, and gleaming limousines. Traditionally a symbol of success, black also represents power and an uncompromising demand for perfection. Not surprisingly, you tend to set challenging goals for yourself and do whatever it takes to achieve them — your strength of character is second to none. This unfaltering determination, along with your natural elegance, impresses people. But keep in mind that your personality might be intimidating to some. Try to temper your demanding side with a little softness — trust us, it won't kill you. Overall, though, black is the color of professionalism and achievement, which means it's clearly the color for you.

This is my second week back at home. Strangely, even without my usual newspapers and magazines, I still keep reading as much as possible. The life in Shanghai is more regular and full of routine by any means. So I would not describe myself lazy, actually how could I when my parents say good morning to me at 7:00 am? But even so, I find it difficult to keep myself in a good mood.

I probably have never been a person who finds life easy and pleasant. Even I did, that must be so long ago that I can hardly remember. This is such a shame when I finally finished ‘Bleak House’, which I started almost three years ago. I even recall that back then my literature teacher in SOAS started reading ‘The Dreams of Red Mansion’. I suppose if I put a bet then on who would finish his or her reading first, I would probably be a little bit poorer now.

I am extremely fond of the character Esther. She always enjoys her life so much. Although she insists that friends around her are so sincere and genial, she herself is actually at least as good-natured as them. She is such a fine person. Born as a girl that was told better to be never born, Esther holds on to her belief of kindness and humanity of man. She suffered from serious illness and though recovered but lost her normal looking beauty forever. Rather than complaining her unfair fate, she is only grateful to be alive. The ending is quite a relief as she lives happily with her dear Ada, her guardian and her lover. Indeed, the bleak house is not bleak after all.

All of this is so similar to my parents’ teaching, or put it a more general way, it is a gospel to be a good person. Do not puzzle yourself with the definition of goodness; believe it or not, goodness is planted in your heart when you are born. It is only natural to let it grow and bloom. But all flowers have a date to wither; therefore, it is not easy to persevere the weak germination, but Esther does.

Zhang Ke, a great scholar in literature in Shanghai, says that to learn good English one needs to read Dickens and Shakespeare. First Dickens, then Shakespeare. I cannot agree with her not because I disagree with her but simply that I have read too little. But I started with these two people and they are great to read. Actually I can recall that when the drama of Bleak House was on BBC1, the website of BBC described it a real drama. Indeed when we are bored with so many the so-called reality shows, the Victorian writer reminds us what a real drama is.

I still have not found out what is the Chinese title of Bleak House. But it is such a pleasant experience that I really wish more people to have a read even though this implies a huge effort, no less than ‘Gone with the wind’ or ‘Les Miserable’. But after getting used to plays, which intend to communicate with audience (rather than readers) through live dialogs and movements hopefully by great actors, the novel again shows me the unchallengeable charm. The structure is not usual for other writers, as it combines storytelling from a third person and Esther’s narrative, which provides the proceeding more perspectives and also different style of writing. I just feel it so natural when I read Esther’s narratives as if Dickens is really a female novelist. Indeed, you will not find pretence in a work by writers like Dickens.

So this is it, my second week in Shanghai. The initial excitement of back at home is fading so fast and I have not found anything particular to feed my hunger for reading. Chinese writings are not all bad, but maybe, just maybe I am losing my inclination to them. I have just left a new book by Yu Qiu Yu on a bus and I would not bother myself to buy another one. So guess what I am reading at the moment? The second report of the pension committee led by Lord Turner. Fun? No, it is not. But it could be a great story in fifty years’ time although not for the same reason as Dickens.

Having been home for one week, I finally nearly return to a sort of tranquility after the shocking bird view of ever-expanding Shanghai from the plane at landing. Indeed, this city is amazing. It has an unexplainable charm, alluring all kinds of people to leave their birthplace and gather here and call it home.

I am not one of them. I am a native, seriously indigenous. Indeed, I was born here. While I was away, I dreamed of it. While I missed it, I was proud of it. Proud of the changes, proud of the modernism and proud of its openness.

But strangely I do not feel home now. Is it because it has changed so much that it is not the one that I knew? Or can it be that it is too modern to be burdened with the old memories? Or is it losing its openness even though every street is decorated with humble laborers from rural inland areas from whom I saw my own image in the remote England?

Three years and a half has turned my home a strange place and a strange place home. I did not realize this brutal fact until now. How foolish I am. Do I see myself another Scarlet? I could only wish myself has much passion for life as she does.

I would not label China as a multicultural country. Culture identity is something that people here has not very often come across. But for me, this is so straight and sharp that it is almost impossible for me to turn a blind eye to it. So let us try to define what is the Chinese culture. I was educated here until my first degree, but the so-called Fourth of May culture movement has abolished all the traditional teachings. Therefore, young people around my age have no obligation whatsoever to recite the old Confucianism or Buddhism writings. Nowadays the Entertainment News on TV is full of coverage of the newest fashion development in Korea. Fashion seems to be the only element that remains in young people’s mind. Of course, do forgive my absoluteness. Who can blame them (or us) when the Christmas is coming?

Oh, yes, how can I forget that! A Christmas in China, a country that is not Christian, most of whose people have not heard of Jesus Christ, therefore, not his birth either. What Christmas here means is the fatty red Santa Claus dancing in front of the titanic department stores, waiving dazzle sale signs. Indeed, no matter how low the temperature is in Shanghai, the heat of consumption is rising. So I probably should not complain about the absence of meaning for Christmas when its economics effect is so obvious.

Or should I readdress the importance of meaning once again in a society that was once deprived with money and now adores nothing but economics success? It should not only my desperate cry, but also thousands more. Unfortunately, the censored media seems to enhance the enthrallment in money, leaving people indifferent to everything else. I am not exaggerating, but I indeed did not watch any television yet even though my TV at home has more than 70 channels which are broadcasting at least two dozens of Qing Dynasty stories.

If we really fancy that period that much, shall we have the courage to have some similar reform that the Qing people did?