Alexandra and Zhang walked across the Garden Bridge to Hongkou. The beams were low and rusty, and it felt strange to be walking into a suburb where both the roads and footpaths were so clogged with vehicles. It was a far cry from the grand, leafy boulevards of the former French Concession. Scooters swarmed around them on the footpaths, loaded with bags of takeaway noodles and curries. Cars and taxis honked and smoke spewed from their exhausts as they inched across the bridge.

The sky shimmered a dirty pink, and the tops of the Pudong skyscrapers disappeared into the smog. Low supply ships snaked up the Huangpu and the walkway in the Bund was crowded with tourists, their selfie sticks extended so they could get a shot of themselves in front of the dazzling pink Oriental Pearl Tower.

As they crossed into Hongkou, the footpaths narrowed and the sound of jackhammers punctuated each step. New townhouses and office towers were going up on every block and bamboo scaffolding arched over the footpath. It smelled of dust and concrete, yet when Alexandra glanced down the longtang lanes, she saw the curves of old red-brick buildings, faded wooden doors leading to mysterious courtyards, an orange t-shirt and pants fluttering like lanterns on a washing line threaded between buildings.

The next alley had a lemon duvet strung across the road, with a dozen scooters and bicycles parked underneath. Clusters of thick black wires and cables snaked from telephone poles on the street to the outside of each building, sometimes only secured with a piece of string, or a coathanger. Electricity cables weaved across streets and buildings, looking like a giant industrial cobweb.

‘What if there’s rain, or a gust of wind? These cables would blow all over the road and footpaths,’ said Alexandra as she studied the knot of black wires directly above her head.

Zhang shrugged. ‘They’d just reattach them.’

In broad daylight, Hongkou felt cobbled together. This was a ramshackle face of old Shanghai she’d yet to experience. Crumbling townhouses with magnificent carved Art-Deco doorframes and smashed windows crouched between anonymous shiny silver office buildings.

‘Ready to meet my Shanghai family? You’ve already met Peta and Petra—who couldn’t stop squealing when I said you were coming for dinner. My aunt will love you. My uncle is at work, sorry.’ He tilted his head and pulled a face. ‘Maybe a bit too much family? Brace yourself.’

Alexandra just smiled.

Zhang knocked on a door with peeling paint and two bamboo mailboxes on which Chinese characters were written neatly in black felt pen. It was a red door, mottled like all the others studding the laneway, but as they stood and waited for it to open, Alexandra did a double take.

Set within the door panels was a rectangular frame. And within that frame was a simple star pattern made from steel offcuts—the Star of David. Alexandra ran her fingers over the metal star, the rough steel scratching her finger as the warm aroma of garlic, ginger and chicken soup floated over the wall from a nearby courtyard. She thought of her Oma, home alone at Puyuan, and felt weak with guilt and longing.

Zhang pushed the door open and they stepped into a large concrete courtyard bordered by three brick townhouses.

Half a dozen men sat in pyjamas at a card table, smoking and arguing over mahjong, while a pair of poodles tussled under the table. A violin started to play from the top floor of the building further along the laneway. Peta and Petra were sitting on two faded camping chairs, a ginger cat weaving between their legs. The girls had their heads down, earbuds in, absorbed in their phones.

Beside them, a wiry middle-aged lady was bent over a concrete sink as deep as a horse trough. Underneath sat neat stacks of coloured plastic bowls and aluminium pots. A large wooden chopping board leaned against the wall.

When Zhang called out, she turned and hurried over to greet them. Zhang spoke in Mandarin as his aunt smoothed his shirt, squeezed his biceps and pinched his cheeks. She turned to Alexandra with a broad smile, took both her hands and squeezed them.

‘Welcome,’ she said with a nod.

Zhang said something out of the corner of his mouth in a sharp tone to his cousins, who immediately jumped out of their chairs, tugged the buds from their ears and hid their phones.

They both hugged Alexandra.

‘Alexandra!’ squealed Peta. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

‘Don’t forget me,’ said Petra, elbowing her sister out of the way.

Zhang fetched a beer for Alexandra while she sat on a milk crate, trying to imagine what a future with Zhang might look like. What life in Shanghai could be. It was a strange sensation of warmth and possibility, like the first delicate shoots of spring bulbs pushing through the soil. She studied the line of his square jaw and listened to his easy laugh as a child scrambled onto his shoulders.

Was she mixing up her feelings for Zhang with her fascination with Shanghai? This city, this house, the ghosts of the Hongkou ghetto were filling the gaps she’d felt her whole life.

As if catching Alexandra’s thoughts, Zhang looked up and smiled.

She flushed, feeling silly. Zhang was going back to Hong Kong tomorrow and she was too realistic to think a long-distance relationship would work. She couldn’t make her last one thrive when she and Hugo had lived in the same apartment. Besides, would it be fair to start something serious with Zhang when she still felt so broken?

For a moment, she pictured Hugo’s drawn face as he thrashed around in bed, dreaming of his dead brother. They’d each recognised a void in the other and it was this emptiness that had underpinned their pairing. It was time to recognise that loneliness was no basis for a relationship. She and Hugo were never meant to be. They both deserved more.