Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 544

when I was young” and I was “wasting my time”, but ultimately still turning his rambles into condemning
lectures.
However, he always rose my spirits up - comforting me with his somewhat too harsh words, but intentions
pure and innocent. It brought me back into a place of contentedness.
And as time passed, he warmed up to me - and we talked about anything - ranging from his past glory
days, or my upbringing - the bond I had grown with not just him, but the whole community was very
heartening, and to me, it had become my second home, where I learnt from their cultures and traditions as
if I was one of them.
Watching The Greater Bay Area growth accentuating at such a rapid pace and keep these traditions was to
put it simply, amazing. This place had become a place where Cantonese culture has prospered and has
blossomed into the most beautiful flower. Once a dying dialect many decades ago, this area has cultivated
this articulate and buoyant dialect to never-seen-before levels of widespread and common use. These
traditions exclusive to people like the small community of Iao Hon have been able to live on, teaching them
to simple “passersby” like me.
Thanks to the interconnected transport hub that was brought forth new transport to connect these
neighbouring Chinese cities closer and closer together. All different types of Chinese people mixed and
mingled about, learning about each other’s standard traditions and local foods - how they differed from
their hometown, how life was like over there. People who came from all places to visit or work - whether
it be the bridge connecting Hong Kong and Macau, crossing the border from Zhuhai, or a ferry from any
place - they all were learning from others, all the while teaching others about what their traditions were
back home.
Even in the situation that I was in, I enjoyed and fully embraced the lively community spirit, and how
welcoming the community was integrating me and considering me as one of their own.
“Wait, Grandpa, does that mean you never met her again?” asked the younger grandchild.
I chuckled slightly, before saying recounting, “No silly, of course not. She’s your grandmother now
remember?”.
But, even as I found comfort in this small, but lovely community, I needed to know where Siu Mei went.
Even if they had given me a sense of belonging, my heart still ached and yearned for her to come back. I
searched high and low for any information regarding her whereabouts, before finally being led into the
radiant island, Taipa of Macau.
Those buildings that seemed echelons away were just mere blocks away, due to the very fast modernisation
of Macau. Here came a plethora of mountainous skyscrapers, protruding the sky. All of a sudden, my
surroundings were transformed into a contemporary landscape. My surroundings evolved into more
sophisticated and renovated buildings, in contrast to the low-rise buildings in Iao Hon.
The bustling sounds of the people scurrying on the road below, going about their day. Cars constantly
honking back and forth at each other, busy market mongers trying their best to sell on the streets. The flashy
streetlights and signs shining brightly. This was all such a stark contrast to what I had grown accustomed to.
Yet, the abrupt modernisation was not unwelcome to me either, because I was determined to find Siu Mei
somewhere in these dazzling group of buildings and windy rows of roads.
All my searching led me to the somewhat remote side street, away from the bright lights of the city stores
and colourful houses exteriors.
And it was right there, where I saw the same figure I saw on that second floor of the market, where I saw
Siu Mei for the first time in months.
“Siu Mei!”, I painfully screamed out.