With a toll of 10 dead, more than 200 injured and an estimated cost of $20bn (£15.4bn), the Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macau bridge has not had the easiest start in life.

Nonetheless, the 55km bridge – one of the 10 longest in the world – is set to officially open this week, a key part of China’s plan to build a Greater Bay Area, and a move which would integrate Hong Kong and Macau and Zhuhai with eight other major cities in south China in a Silicon Valley-esque tech hub.

Having lived in Hong Kong for five years now, I, like many others, have come to see the Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macau bridge as a physical manifestation of Beijing’s tightening grip on the city.

I originally moved to Hong Kong for the career prospects. At a time when the UK’s economy was slowing, Asia’s was on the rise. The media market in the UK in particular was saturated to the point of not being a feasible career option – journalists dropping their rates, or even working for free, just to get a byline.

In comparison, Hong Kong boasted plentiful growth, with generous salaries, stable positions, opportunities for regional coverage and, most importantly, the satisfaction to write freely and critically on any topical issue. It was an easy move – as a former British colony, Hong Kong offered a comfort and familiarity that mainland China lacked. People in Hong Kong spoke English, there was a Marks & Spencer down the road, and the visa-friendly policies for foreigners confirmed the city’s status as the gateway to Asia.

Perhaps for these reasons, Hong Kong has always felt more reassuring and more stable than China. When I first arrived, China felt like a little brother playing catch up – Hong Kong was already an established player on the global stage, with a developed economy and, to an extent, distinct political and legal systems. China, on the other hand, was still carving out its identity, experiencing rapid growth and change, and was so busy grappling with internal politics that looking beyond its own borders was not a priority.

But all of that has changed quite significantly, even in the past half-decade. China has asserted itself as a global power, with an international outlook. The development of the bridge is a physical sign of this change.

Has this complicated relationship with China had an impact on those living and working in Hong Kong? Absolutely, not least for those in the media industry.

Support free-thinking journalism and attend Independent events

Along with the political clashes and protests over the years, there has been increasing pressure to silence journalists – some attempts more subtle than others – and in 2015, five Hong Kong booksellers who sold books banned in mainland China were kidnapped; unofficially taken over the border to China and detained by mainland agents. Even writing this piece, I have stalled as I ask myself about potential backlash – the consequences on my job, my visa, my security in Hong Kong. Self-censorship has become a very real issue, and is spreading fast. That would not have been the case five years ago.

Take the South China Morning Post for example, Hong Kong’s leading English-language newspaper. The paper was founded by Australian-born revolutionary Tse Tsan-tai and British journalist Alfred Cunningham in 1903. In 2015, the paper was bought over by Alibaba – China’s biggest online commerce platform, raising understandable questions of objectivity and free press. It’s not that journalists want to abandon their ethics, but the options are binary: ensure your story is sensitive to China, or risk not being published at all.

There is no independent media in Hong Kong anymore. Until now, it has been easy to ignore this gradual erosion, but the opening of the bridge solidifies this change to Hong Kong’s landscape. What the bridge will lead to remains unclear, but one thing is certain: these are troubled waters indeed.