Dubai shook. It was on the day when the Middle Eastern sky was engulfed in fire at the end of last month.

One of the world's major international airports was forced to shut down overnight. Dubai and Abu Dhabi, the two main hubs of the UAE, were simultaneously bombed. The place that handled 1,200 flights daily suddenly turned into a battlefield. The status of the super hub connecting Eurasia and Africa also lost its meaning that day.

The first thing Wu, a Chinese developer on site, noticed was the sound outside the window. Three thuds—bang, bang, bang. From his previous experience in Lebanon and Iraq, he immediately recognized it as a missile. Soon after, the roaring sounds grew denser and continued until midnight. Looking up at the sky, he saw missiles being intercepted near Marina, exploding in midair. "I had only seen that in movies," he later said. "This time, the Earth broadcast a live blockbuster."

The landmark hotel on Palm Island in Dubai was bombed, the seven-star Burj Al Arab caught fire, and flashes of interception light flickered over the top of the Burj Khalifa. These names usually appear in tourism ads. Now, they are appearing in war news.

That morning, the US and Israel launched a joint attack on Iran. Iran retaliated within hours, firing missiles toward Israel and the entire Gulf. Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia all issued warnings. Iran had explicitly declared that anyone helping the US would be targeted. As of this writing, Iran had carried out at least six attacks, launching 167 missiles and over 500 drones.

An executive from a major exchange, who was in the UAE at the time, said in an exclusive interview, "Theoretically, there are air defense systems, so overall safety is somewhat guaranteed. But those lacking information search capabilities might feel more fear." She also pointed out, "Bombings and missile strikes will cause mass casualties. However, the current interception fragments and drone attacks are putting more psychological pressure on civilians and causing greater economic damage."

The Chinese population in Dubai is growing rapidly, with about 300k Chinese residents expected by 2025. Dragon City built a Chinese goods city in the desert, called "the largest Chinese trade center outside mainland China." Huawei, Xiaomi, OPPO also have their Middle Eastern headquarters there, viewing it as a bridgehead for overseas expansion.

People involved in Web3, trade, tourism, real estate, and finance—various Chinese industries—had rooted themselves in this desert city. Over the past decade, they had grown accustomed to the political stability of the UAE, the zero income tax, and the feeling that "Middle Eastern chaos doesn't concern me."

Until the missiles came.

A Chinese person wrote in a group chat with friends, "The first reason I came to Dubai was to avoid taxes, but now I’m in an air-raid shelter to avoid bombs."

Wu handled developer tools in Dubai and lived near Marina. Not far from the entrance to Palm Island. Usually a shopping area, but now a problem. Because it’s relatively close to the US Jabel Ali base.

At 4 p.m., after finishing a meal near the Burj Khalifa, he returned home to the sound of three loud thuds outside the window. He was not surprised. He had heard this sound before during developer events in Lebanon and Iraq.

But Dubai has no missile defense system, so if a missile falls, it just falls. Avoid the bombing zone. Dubai is different. THAAD is here. Missiles may be intercepted and explode in midair, or they may miss and land randomly, often falling into civilian areas.

The roaring sounds grew denser, mixing with alarms and ambulance sirens. People on the streets mostly reported their safety via phone and hurried.

At midnight, his phone blared with government alerts. Beep beep beep beep, grating, lasting three or four minutes. Then the buildings also sounded alarms. He and his wife headed to the underground parking lot.

The parking lot was already crowded. Some people were holding children, others were packing mineral water and biscuits into trunks. Engines were still running, ready to depart at any moment. In the worst case, they would just drive away.

At 8 a.m. the next morning, his wife woke him with a loud bang. She woke him up. "It was especially close this time." Looking out the window, the glass was trembling. The glass of the building opposite was also shaking.

But that day, the government did not issue any warning. He thought they didn’t want to cause panic. Or perhaps they believed civilian areas wouldn’t be bombed.

However, most of the city was still operating normally. There was no panic reported from outside.

Wu went downstairs to the supermarket. Shelves were full of milk and bread, and no one was looting. When he ordered McDonald’s, it arrived in 30 minutes, and the delivery person joked as they handed it over.

But the Chinese supermarket was different. He ordered at 9:30 p.m. last night, but the system said it was too busy. He tried again at 10, still unable to order. Today, no goods arrived. The official explanation was that demand exceeded supply.

Wu’s British neighbor left early in the morning, dragging a suitcase hurriedly.

The current retreat options were roughly three. First, someone drove all night to Oman, the only country nearby not attacked by Iran, but the roads to Oman were now almost impassable due to congestion. Second, someone retreated to Al Ain. In the desert, the chance of missiles attacking the desert is low. Third, someone moved to Sharjah, which has no military facilities. The border crossings were already presumed to be closed.

Wu planned to wait and see a little longer. "Iran probably doesn’t have infinite missiles, so the situation will become more controllable." Yesterday, officials announced intercepting 132 of 137 missiles, and there were dozens of explosions that day.

Three routes were available for retreat, with water, food, and emergency cash already prepared in the car.

A friend working at Dubai airport first messaged when T3 was bombed: "There’s smoke, I’m evacuating." The Chinese peer-to-peer network was faster and more accurate than official sources or media. Who was bombed, which intersection was blocked, which supermarket still had stock—all was shared via WeChat groups.

Chinese friends living downtown started moving to lower buildings because the Burj Khalifa was too tall and conspicuous. Since the attack on Burj Al Arab and Palm Island, it seemed Iran was interested in landmarks.

Wu said he might consider leaving if Iran continued this chaos. "Trust is hard to build. Once broken, it can’t be restored."

For now, all they could do was wait. Wait for the US to stop, Iran to cease attacks, the airport to reopen, and for the "all clear" notification.

Mason, living in Dubai’s Silicon Valley, was told there was a US military base nearby, but he hadn’t paid much attention.

In the afternoon, while eating, he saw that the Palm Island hotel was attacked by missiles. He finished his meal and wanted to drive to see the scene, but the navigation showed the route to the bombing site was blocked by traffic, so he gave up.

Mason didn’t feel fear. "Probably too far away from me."

Ten minutes before talking to the author, he heard another loud explosion overhead. The sound was loud and above him. Missiles being intercepted and exploding in the sky. The noise was deafening. He looked outside the window, but people were still walking below.

Last night, his phone rang repeatedly, piercing the quiet of the night with government alerts. The alerts roughly said: avoid going out, stay away from windows. He heard a ripping sound from the sky, unsure if it was a fighter jet or missile, but it flew away. No nearby explosions. Then he went to sleep.

In the morning, he saw news that at 1 a.m., T3 was attacked by drones. Mason had planned to watch the Winter Paralympics in Milan, but now the airport was indefinitely closed. Videos of the airport flooded Twitter; he glanced at them, but they were half real, half fake.

Someone was starting to retreat. Among the locals in Dubai where Mason was, a tour guide was talking about VIP clients leaving, but the Oman border was already closed. Usually, long lines are needed to get visas, now it’s even harder. Someone asked him whether to retreat, but he calculated silently: over 1,000 km to Saudi Arabia, several hundred to Oman. "Going to Oman now might be more dangerous. Who knows what will happen on this route."

Mason decided to stay.

"All just exaggeration," he said about online videos. "Burj Al Arab is a landmark; if it’s bombed, someone will film it, and the horror will spread."

He believed current missiles are all precision-guided, aimed at bases, so they don’t cause indiscriminate bombing. If not intercepted, fragments could fall elsewhere.

Olivia lived in a densely populated area, 8 km from the coast, which faced Iran, with Burj Al Arab, Palm Island, and Dubai Marina nearby.

In the afternoon, she was napping when she woke up to many people asking about her safety on WeChat, realizing something was wrong. Hours later, she heard bombing sounds outside her window. Her house’s windows were reinforced with quadruple glazing—double plus double—yet the noise was piercing and invasive.

She had originally scheduled a medical beauty appointment but canceled it directly. Still, life went on for most; downstairs by the pool, someone was sunbathing for the weekend.

Three bombing sounds continued through the night. Before sleeping, she heard patrols of fighter jets overhead, roaring repeatedly. At midnight, she fell asleep, but her phone woke her up with alerts. She had turned on Do Not Disturb, but the alerts pierced through. Three people in the house, four or five phones all ringing simultaneously.

A friend who went to Oman said the roads were blocked. She had a friend who was the founder of a New York company, who sent employees on overnight trips to Oman and then flew them back to the US on a private jet.

Originally scheduled to return in March or April, the airport was now indefinitely closed. If they couldn’t pass, they would have to reroute through neighboring countries and fly again.

Videos online spread terrifying scenes, but she felt they were exaggerated.

Olivia judged that the situation would improve. "They won’t run out of ammunition, so this won’t last forever."

When she hung up, she said she hadn’t slept all night and planned to sleep a little more.

Dubai has no seasons. Only heat and more heat.

But in these two days, 300,000 Chinese felt a different temperature. Uncertainty.

Wu saw neighbors carrying children in the garage; Mason wanted to visit the ruins of Burj Al Arab; Olivia set her Do Not Disturb mode, but alerts kept piercing through. As an executive of a large trading company said, those with good information search skills don’t panic much, but noise always exists—roaring outside the window, phone alerts, constantly updated group chat info—what building was bombed, which roads are blocked, which supermarkets still have stock.

Everyone is refreshing, waiting.

Waiting for the US to stop, Iran to end the attack, the airport to reopen, and for the "all clear" notification.

Someone fled overnight. Someone decided to stay. Someone sunbathed by the pool, someone packed passports and cash into emergency bags. No right or wrong in each choice—just gambling on probabilities.

Most Chinese coming to Dubai are not for adventure. It’s for certainty. Taxes are certain, laws are certain, business is certain. Over 30 years, this city built an order in the desert.

Palm Island, Burj Al Arab, Burj Khalifa—all monuments of this order. People can beat the desert, build prosperity in the wilderness.

But some things are beyond human control.

When two countries break negotiations, missiles fly. It doesn’t matter which side you’re on, whether you’re a good person, how much tax you’ve paid, how many people you’ve employed, or how many buildings you’ve built. You’re just here.

This is the world of 2026. Flights can be halted, borders can be sealed, meticulously planned lives can be disrupted in a single afternoon. Not because you did something wrong. It’s just that on the chessboard of great power conflicts, no one asks the pieces’ opinions.

Wu said that if the situation calms down, he might stay too. "Maybe it will become more peaceful in the future."

This is a calm only those who have experienced it can possess. After it ends, they will talk about what needs to be talked about, stop what needs to be stopped. The history of the Middle East is written this way—repeating war and ceasefire, life continues.

Mason wanted to see the bombing site. Probably just to confirm those images, to confirm he experienced it himself, to see that this city still exists, that he still exists.

Again, a loud sound echoed outside the window.

Missile or interception, far or near—uncertain.

It’s okay. The sound is still distant, daily life can still continue. McDonald’s still delivers, supermarkets still have stock, when alarms sound, go to the parking lot; if not, keep sleeping.

300,000 Chinese are waiting like this.

Waiting for the wind to stop.