Macau in summer is a place where the heat comes at you in waves, leaving you nowhere to hide. The only escape is to duck into one of the many casinos, where blasts of cool air wash over you. At MGM, they even serve free bubble tea. It is certainly gratifying, though somehow lacking the quiet elegance of something meant to soothe the mind and cultivate the spirit.

When I came across the Mandarin’s House, its tranquil courtyard immediately shut out the noise of the city beyond. Perhaps this is what Macau’s past truly looked like. I had always known Zheng Guanying as the man who lived here in seclusion and wrote Words of Warning to the Prosperous Age. It was only after a recent trip to Zhongshan that I learned he had been a formidable merchant and businessman from a young age. The old house is deep and secluded, its walls mottled with light and shadow. Amid the sunlight of a city steeped in the scent of money, it has somehow preserved an almost anachronistic sense of history.

In such a confined little corner of the world, the streets are nevertheless dotted with Ingress’s vivid green Level-8 portals, making Macau an excellent place to deploy a virtual aircraft.

Casinos, old houses, and a virtual world happen to overlap on this tiny city. Perhaps that is what makes Macau so fascinating: history has never really left; it has simply changed its form, standing alongside the present—and the future.