Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 232

The Lost Letter
Shanghai Singapore International School, Siddiqui, Maryam - 11
A bus screeched to a stop at the curb and a conductor emerged, shouting, in his Singaporean
accent, “All on board!”
Hui Liang climbed on the bus, where she noticed a thick envelope on the floor. She reached
down, grasping it. She looked at the address, and realized it wasn’t written in English-it was in Cantonese.
Even though her parents were from Hong Kong, she hadn’t learned Cantonese. They had advised
her to learn one language at a time, so she focussed on Mandarin. Now, for the first time in her life, she
regretted not learning it.
The doors of the bus opened, and Hui Liang alighted. She was going home to Hong Kong for the
holidays.
After her family picked her up from the airport, her father drove them home in their CRV. As she
looked out of the window, she was overcome with memories.
She was walking out of her house with her parents. They were going out for dinner since it was New Years’
Eve. She glanced at the sky, gazing at the beautiful, glimmering stars in the purplish-pink sky. After some
time, she realized that Li Jie was pulling her. Hui Liang tore her eyes from the beautiful sight above and she
ran to the restaurant with her little brother. The whole family was talking with each other, even her
grandmother and their great-aunt joined in to celebrate. They left the restaurant at midnight, and were
walking slowly back which was when the argument began-
Hui Liang woke up on the sofa, and glanced at the clock, it was 9 pm. Remembering the letter.
She started talking.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
When she finished, her mother looked at her sceptically, but her father jumped up and grabbed her
hand. He hurled Hui Liang into the back of a sedan, climbed into his seat and stomped on the pedal. Hui
Liang’s back hit the seat as her father nearly broke every law on the road.
After the drive, Hui Liang and her father dragged themselves to the Post office. Her father
explained the situation to a bleary-eyed receptionist as Hui Liang produced the letter. “We can’t,” she
replied.
Hui Liang was crestfallen. The letter had travelled so far from Singapore for this?
As polite as she could, she said, “There must be SOMEONE who could do this. Please.” The
receptionist eyed Hui Liang as she said, “Sorry, you’re on your own.” Hui Liang turned away, sighing.
“Fine. It says…”, the receptionist squinted at the address. “Taikoo Shing District, Hong Kong
Island-”
Hui Liang yanked the letter from her hand and ran to the car.
Her father drove them to Taikoo Shing. It was 10:30 pm and offices and shopping centres were
closed for the holidays. They looked everywhere. After one person slammed a door in their faces, Hui Liang
sat down angrily.
“Why? Nobody can even TRANSLATE the address!” she cried.
“Let’s go,” replied her father.
They walked to where the car was. The crickets chirped and the frogs croaked. Fishes leaped from
the ponds. Hui Liang looked up.
The beautiful, glimmering stars in the purplish-pink sky, the clouds that blended well with the colours
around it.
But something was different tonight. The stars sparkled for a reason; they were encouraging her to
remember something. Hui Liang didn’t know what to remember. She focussed more on the memory of that
night, Dinner on New Years’ Eve.
The whole family talked to each other, even her grandmother and great-aunt. When they were leaving the
restaurant, the argument begun. Her grandmother and great-aunt were bickering nonstop in Cantonese.
With a final yell, Great-Aunt Jing stormed up their house and soon emerged holding a suitcase-