y mother always lectures me, "You are Chen, and to Chen you shall return." Chen is my home village, the root of my family. However, far from the traditional female image of one's homeland, in a deep, tacit way, I always feel that a generation goes, a generation comes, but Chen remains an aggressive alpha male, strait-laced and poised to strike back against any foreign invader. Such a mega-backstop he is, that ten years ago, if anyone dared to question, "Will this place be changed?" I would pull no punches teasing him with "Definitely no!"

However, the correct answer is yes. Underlined. It takes only ten years to transform him beyond recognition.

Ominous changes took place since the outset of 2007. With a view to keeping pace with the increasingly crowded skylines in the city center, the bureaucrats in our village decided to raze all ungraceful bungalows and add a handful of 'iconic' tower buildings as well as rows of high-rises. As a result, despite outrageous outcries from the residents, gone were the verdant groves, well-cultivated fields, and even the spiritual epitome-the Great Buddha's Hall. Only monstrosities were left to block sunlight and wind from us, and ultimately even stars didn't venture to glitter at night. Worse still, the chemistry vultures were allowed to get their hands on the farmland where they exploited it callously and towered up chimney stacks. As those profiteers were fattening their wallet, homeless villagers fell victim to bouts of rashes and hair loss due to the water contaminated by industrial excretions. By the end of 2011, it became clear that these changes, arising like some fearful germ-laden cloud, were poisoning the very soil, the health of the people, and roots of fellow relations.

Doom and gloom descended on the village and everything seemed to smolder under deceptive tranquility. Most farmers, when lucrative chemical industries and land reclamation resulted in a quantitative transfer of land from open fields to barren landfills, were forced to stampede out of their village into cities. Discriminated and desperate, in the long-drawn fierce competition for scarce job opportunities, their hearts were hence converted into ruthless stones. Besides, for those who chose to stay at home, they either discarded the once-dominant dictum "work as hard as you play", or were lured into the stock market but unfortunately, most of them, short of technical know-how, pathetically teetered on the brink of destitution due to unexpected stock plunges. The Chen, as it were, served as something of a canary in a coal mine concerning the perennial financial meltdown, which led to less investment and also less appeal to those who were adrift outside to come back home.

Almost ten years has passed now. Most doors shut up, even neighbors are not on speaking terms for a long while. The town is now merely a phantom with dwellers going to and fro. I've been wondering what good there would be if the town vaulted into the world's central stage, yet forfeited its health and felicity. Even until my family left Chen, I was still choked by the exhaust fumes. What should Chen look like in the future, I don't know.

This is one of the featured articles by SES Writing Workshop. The author is an undergraduate student of the School of English Studies, Shanghai International Studies University (SISU).