Although Shanghai is on the sea, it long lacked the prosperity

The words of Evan Osnos, “Although Shanghai is on the sea, it long lacked the prosperity that Hong Kong enjoyed, so while Hong Kong became known for its exotic ocean creatures, Shanghai built its diet around more commonplace river and sea fish,” are not merely an observation of geography or cuisine. They are, at their heart, a reflection on circumstance, adaptation, and the quiet strength that emerges from necessity. In this contrast between two cities — Shanghai and Hong Kong — Osnos unveils a timeless truth: that prosperity is not always measured by abundance, and that those who live without excess often cultivate a deeper relationship with what they have.

In these words lies a meditation on resourcefulness, the virtue of those who must build beauty from limitation. Hong Kong, rich in trade and contact with distant lands, became a place of luxury — its tables filled with rare and exotic ocean creatures, symbols of wealth and cosmopolitan grace. Shanghai, though also kissed by the sea, did not share that early fortune. Its people turned instead to the rivers that flowed through their land and the humbler fish that swam within them. Out of this humility of circumstance arose not despair, but creativity — a cuisine, a culture, and a resilience uniquely their own. Here, Osnos reminds us that greatness often grows not from plenty, but from constraint.

The ancients, too, knew this truth. The philosopher Zhuangzi, one of China’s great sages, spoke of the carp that swims in shallow waters. Though small and constrained, the carp learns to move with grace in narrow spaces, mastering agility where strength alone would fail. Likewise, the people of Shanghai, lacking the bounty of the deep ocean, learned to draw richness from simplicity. In their markets and kitchens, they elevated the modest — transforming the river fish into delicacies, infusing ordinary ingredients with extraordinary care. This is the mark of a wise people: to take what the world offers and make of it something enduring.

Such stories are found across the world’s history. In ancient Athens, long before it became a center of art and philosophy, it was a city poor in land and resources. The soil was thin, the crops scarce. Yet from this poverty of earth rose the richness of mind. Because they could not build their prosperity from grain, the Athenians built it from ideas. So too did Shanghai, constrained by circumstance, turn inward toward refinement — cultivating not only the palate, but the spirit of adaptability. It is as though both the Athenian and the Shanghainese learned the same lesson whispered by the ages: that true wealth is born not of what we possess, but of how we transform what is given.

There is also a moral truth in Osnos’s words, one that speaks beyond cities and into the heart of every person. Prosperity is often mistaken for power, and luxury for success. But the river fish of Shanghai remind us that endurance belongs to the humble, not the grand. The commonplace sustains where the exotic fades. Those who depend on the rare are vulnerable to loss; those who cherish the simple are secure in their abundance. Thus, while Hong Kong sparkled with the glories of the sea, it was Shanghai — steady, grounded, patient — that endured and rose in time to equal its sister.

Let us remember, too, that there is beauty in limitation. The river, though smaller than the ocean, carries the reflections of the same sky. To live like Shanghai is to honor what is near — to find depth in the local, meaning in the modest, wonder in the familiar. When life denies us luxury, it does not deny us richness. It simply asks that we learn to see it differently — not in extravagance, but in the craftsmanship of the ordinary. The meal made with care, the work done with heart, the love shared without show — these are the true marks of prosperity.

So let this be the teaching: cherish what is within reach. When you lack what others flaunt, do not curse your circumstance; instead, refine your art, your craft, your spirit. Build beauty not from excess, but from attention. Whether in cooking, in work, or in life, let your river fish become your treasure, your proof that abundance lies not in the depth of your waters, but in the depth of your gratitude.

For as Evan Osnos reminds us, the difference between Hong Kong’s ocean and Shanghai’s river is not one of worth, but of perspective. Both are nourished by the sea; both feed those who dwell beside them. One dazzles with spectacle, the other endures with substance. And in that endurance, we find the quiet wisdom of the ages — that from the commonplace may rise the extraordinary, and from simplicity, the strength to prosper in our own time.