As I write this, another alert beeps on my phone. Before all this, it never occurred to me that the United Arab Emirates — long spared from the conflicts around it — would suddenly be in the front line. Nor did I expect to witness it firsthand from Dubai, reporting as a war correspondent.

The upheaval began on Feb 28, when the United States and Israel launched a daytime airstrike on Iran that killed its supreme leader Ali Khamenei. A Pandora's box had been opened. Tehran vowed retaliation with "no red lines".

The conflict quickly escalated, leaving everyone on the edge. Within days, all the Gulf countries were caught in the crossfire. More than 13,000 flights were canceled, throwing normal life into chaos. Social media was flooded with videos and firsthand accounts. In such an atmosphere, even the roar of a motorcycle or the hum of a lawn mower was enough to spark panic.

Whenever interceptions occurred outside, I grabbed my camera and rushed out. My wife voiced her concerns: "When there's an explosion, everyone else runs inside. You're the only one running out."

Besides filing news reports, I recorded videos, sharing my observations in Dubai through China Daily's new media platforms. Several times, fellow compatriots recognized me outside and stopped to talk. "I've seen your videos," they would say. "China Daily's reporting is the most objective and real."

On the night the US Consulate was attacked on March 3, I jumped into a car with a reporter from Xinhua News Agency and headed straight to the spot. By the time we arrived, all roads leading to the consulate had been blocked; the flashing lights were blinding. We continued on foot and managed to interview several witnesses. They described a sudden explosion that sent pedestrians scrambling for cover, dropping to the ground in fear.

By the time I finished filing a video report from the street and returned home, the clock read 5 am. Once again, I had pulled an all-nighter, bearing witness to history.

My mind was wound tighter than a coiled spring, running on adrenaline. I often went an entire day without eating, barely realizing it. In the first three days, I slept less than five hours in total.

But the war hasn't stopped. The daily soundtrack of booms and sirens slowly blended into the background. Partly through familiarity, and partly through confidence in the UAE's emergency response, I grew accustomed to this new reality. The president appeared in public at Dubai Mall to signal stability. Authorities offered stranded travelers three days of free food and accommodation, and flights gradually resumed.

Meanwhile, life tentatively returned to "normal". Traffic picked up, malls and restaurants stayed open, and construction sites hummed. When food prices fluctuated, the government stepped in to stabilize the market.

The overseas Chinese community rallied together. Social media platforms, especially Xiaohongshu, were filled with offers of help and pleas for assistance. One woman from Beijing took in six stranded compatriots. When I called her, she simply said: "I'm just an ordinary person. Even if I can only give them a warm bowl of noodles, it brings a little comfort."

Back in China, the safety of citizens stranded abroad weighed heavily on many. The government swiftly coordinated with airlines to resume flights. People constantly refreshed online ticketing platforms, and at one point economy-class fares had soared to 49,000 yuan ($7,100).

But Air China held the line. For each flight, it dispatched a crew of 25, including six pilots to ensure safety, and sold tickets exclusively through its app to prevent scalping and profiteering. Its Dubai staff members worked around the clock; friends I knew there looked gaunt, dark circles under their eyes.

March 7 was nerve-wracking as Air China resumed its flights to China. A friend had arranged for her elderly mother and 5-year-old daughter to evacuate on flight CA942. Just before boarding, an intercepted drone crashed near the airport, forcing hundreds of travelers back into the departure hall to wait anxiously.

China's newly arrived Ambassador Zeng Jixin and Consul General in Dubai Ou Boqian came to reassure them. When Zeng said, "Our motherland will always be our strongest support", it drew huge applause from the crowd. The flight eventually departed after a four-hour delay.

Beyond that, the Chinese embassy and consulate general worked closely with UAE airlines to ensure several daily flights between the two countries. Within days, more than 10,000 Chinese travelers were safely repatriated from across the Middle East, with no casualties reported.

Before my daughter returned to China, she left me a small Five-Star Red Flag. In these chaotic days, it has become my greatest source of strength. Life was tough, and we took solace where we could. Occasionally, I gathered up colleagues from other Chinese media outlets to cook a simple meal — one of our few moments of respite.

To ensure my safety, our Beijing headquarters set up a task force, fast-tracking protective gear. A colleague also tapped personal contacts to help source supplies. Hundreds of friends and coworkers called, reminding me to be careful.

As the situation deteriorated, the UAE reported more than 1,800 attacks, even in downtown Dubai.

Despite the strain, the overall social order has gradually stabilized. Residents jog along Jumeirah Beach. Traffic is returning to the streets. Supermarket shelves are full and prices stable. On one shelf, I spotted Chinese apples stamped with the words "World Peace" — a simple wish shared by everyone.

From the first signs of conflict to the firestorm that swept the Gulf, the crisis has held up a mirror to the region's vulnerabilities. It reveals both the soaring ambitions of economic transformation and the fragile foundations of its security. Every tremor in the Strait of Hormuz is a reminder of how precarious the global supply chain can be.

Fortunately, when put to the test, the UAE rose to the challenge. Order and efficiency earned its emergency management system high marks. Yet, beyond systems and responses, what people truly long for is peace.

The author is a correspondent at China Daily Asia-Pacific Bureau based in Dubai.

Contact the writer at cuihaipei@chinadaily.com.cn