Most of the other group members have left their chairs to walk back and forth along the ferry, chatting and taking photos of the stunning night scenery, their voices rippling over the rhythmic splash of water. Shanghai lies before us in all its magnificence, with its laser lights and soaring skylines. It’s still hard to believe that I’m here, when only a day ago I’d been packing my pajamas in my bedroom, with my familiar view of the cherry tree and picnic table in the backyard. Now my views include the Huangpu River, curving out for miles and miles like a giant serpent, and, farther down the banks, the gleaming domes and rooftop bars and art museums and cinemas, the places where the city’s past clashes with the present in a jigsaw of neoclassical architecture and ancient bell towers and soaring skyscrapers. Animated hearts pop up over screens that stretch wide across the sides of buildings, beckoning to tourists. Welcome to Shanghai, the massive text reads, appearing for seconds at a time, then vanishing like an enchantment. I Love Shanghai.

I take it all in from my seat, massaging my sore fingers.

It’s been an embarrassingly long period of time since I last attempted to write anything in Chinese. At this point, I have to wonder if it’s too late for me. If I’m a lost cause. Everyone says that there’s an ideal period of time in your life to pick up or retain a language, and I stumbled past that deadline ages ago. Maybe I’ll never be fluent like Cyrus. Never speak my mother tongue without it getting tangled in my mouth. Maybe my aunt was right, and I’ll never be anything more than a foreigner in this city.

The thought weighs heavier than I expected. It wouldn’t have bothered me as much in LA, yet it’s different to physically be here, surrounded by sights I should understand but can’t. I can barely read the advertisements flashing on the sides of buildings and the ships gliding by.

To his credit, Wang Laoshi finishes marking our tests before we’ve passed the Oriental Pearl Tower, cutting short the life cycle for my dread. After ushering everyone back to their seats, he stands up at the front of the ferry, holding the papers in his hand like they’re criminal evidence.