INSIDE CHINA

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One country, two systems. Beijing's promise to Hong Kong has the virtue of simplicity. In the West it conjures up the notion of a tiny island of advanced civilization lodging precariously inside a primitive, monolithic communist mainland. In China, though, it's a glaring understatement. Two systems? China today has dozens of political and economic experiments jostling one another, all progressing in different directions at different speeds. One country? China is many countries already. Hong Kong will be just one more participant in an unfinished revolution.

The People's Republic is still a police state with one firm red line: Thou shalt not overthrow the Communist Party government. Yet the vast majority of Chinese people are surprisingly free. The society is so rapidly reshaping itself that even its own leaders are often overwhelmed. This vast, tumultuous land is a startling work in progress that has abandoned orthodox Marxism but not yet settled on fixed alternative arrangements. The Chinese are no longer what they were but are not sure what they will become.

This story is not about the Politburo in Beijing or even the thousands of dissidents locked away in jails. It is a tale of ordinary people in three regions, no more but also no less representative of the "real" China. While communism and democracy form the two poles of the country's political drama, most Chinese live their lives somewhere in between, feeling their way cautiously forward. Politics remains hard for people to discuss, not just because they are afraid to but because that is not primarily where their interests lie. Many do not yet have a vocabulary that extends beyond the freedom to get rich. But some are, slowly, expressing aspirations for greater guarantees of personal liberty, for laws they can understand and trust.

The country is a mosaic of backwardness and new thinking, of worship of Mammon and nostalgia for Mao. Hong Kong poses no graver threat to the powers in Beijing than homegrown forces already at work; the embrace of individual enterprise has forever undermined the basic tenets of communism. The pace and uncertainty of this unique transition frighten as many Chinese as they embolden. Whatever the Chinese are on the way to becoming, they offer this counsel: Naixin. Patience. Xuyao shijian. It takes time.

SHENYANG A grimy city where they miss Mao

Night is when Shenyang comes alive. Young and old, families and flirting teens swirl around the towering, 35-ft.-tall statue of Mao Zedong. Here Mao lives, a hero still. In his long shadow, fan-twirling line dancers stomp through a traditional peasant rite. Doctors in grubby white coats offer herbal medicines, acupuncture or blood-pressure tests. Vendors proffer savory kabobs or key chains. Children rent old-fashioned roller skates for a few yuan, while their elder brothers play badminton without any nets. The throng does not disperse until the blazing phosphorus lights dim near midnight.