Illustration: Liu Rui/GT

Every time I come back to China, my homeland, I discover my memories have become a little more hazy. That's what happens the longer you have been away.

As a result, I go into overdrive. I try to watch every scene unfolding on the street and talk to as many people as I can to get the latest updates, the latest indications of change. But little did I expect the 30 minutes I spent in a train station in Fuzhou city in South China on a recent morning could tell me so much all at once.

That morning I planned to visit Jinjiang, a small town that's about one and a half hours from Fuzhou by high-speed train. When I arrived at the station, the queues in front of the ticket windows at the train station were very well formed. Although the yellow line right in front of the windows that's meant to offer some privacy to the person at the window was still not respected, and people stood so close that you can feel their breath on your neck, the queues themselves represented progress compared to the chaotic time, not so long ago, when most people thought lines were for others, not themselves.

Not that line jumping has been eradicated. When I was standing in the queue waiting my turn, a tough-looking middle-aged man quietly sneaked into the front of the line on my right, stood beside the person who would be next and tried to merge into the line. When the young lady right behind him complained, the man turned his head around, stared at the lady and squeezed two words from clenched teeth "shut up!" His face had a wrenching expression that suggested he could attack the lady at any minute. Everyone behind him shook their heads, quietly.

For a moment, I thought the old power structure when it comes to line formation was still in place - thick skin and brutish behavior would always get someone to the front of the line.

Soon I learned I was wrong. When the line jumper got to the window, the lady selling tickets refused to serve him after having witnessed his stunt. The man moved to the end of the line with a red face.

If the traditional style of forceful line jumping is over, what happened the next in my own queue might be its more cunning replacement.

Just as I was about to step up to the window, a young lady rushed over and begged me to give way to her because her train was about to board. I obliged without hesitation.

Then I encountered an episode of "truth is stranger than fiction." Another young lady came over and asked me for the same favor with the same excuse. I obliged again but not without suspicion. I asked the woman what time her train was scheduled. Eight o'clock, she said. And I looked at my watch, and it was only 7:30.

When the man behind me tapped my shoulder and asked for the same favor, I finally lost my patience and declined his request. My lack of cooperation was completely ineffective. He tapped the shoulder of the lady I gave way to, gave her his ID and money over my shoulder and asked her to purchase a ticket for him. To my surprise, she helped him without even asking me. 

But when I finally got my ticket and moved to the entrance of the train terminals, three men who appeared to be from the countryside tried to get in via a gate that had a "do not enter" sign on it. A security guard in uniform rushed over and told them off in a harsh tone.

"Ok, but you don't have to be so rude," one of them said while he was pulling out his cell phone. The security guard immediately softened his voice and smiled.

It seemed to be a display of what my friends in China had just told me at dinner the previous night: Cell phones and the Internet have helped empower the previously powerless. No one, especially when you are in uniform, wants his or her tyranny to be videotaped and put online.

Thus, after the twists and turns, my train station saga ended on a high note. I hope that this is the same route that China as a whole is taking.

The author is a New York-based journalist. rong_xiaoqing@hotmail.com Follow us on Twitter @GTopinion