A little over one year ago, on my third to last day in Jinhua, my translator E. suddenly turned towards me. “Can I tell you? I have a secret wish,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. I stopped too, and the evening foot traffic of downtown broke and flowed around us, a mix of tired businessmen and young shoppers who barely spared us a glance as they passed. A nearby food stall laced the air with the scent of hot oil and frying chicken; ahead of us, on the street corner, a group of musicians played a waltz.