Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 415
An Excerpt from the Memoir of the Developer of
the Greater Bay Terrace
Harrow International School Hong Kong, Tam, Aston - 14
Gansu - one of the poorest provinces in China - is where I come from.
Thirty years ago, I was born in Gushan Village. It was a small, rural village to the south of
Jiuquan City, next to a range of mountains - arid, barren and uninhabitable - towering over the
nearby clusters of suburbs like a formidable giant from ancient myths. In summer, my younger brother
and I would wander close to the foot of the mountains, after hitching a ride on the back of our
neighbour’s cart. It was drawn by his old ox, “Old Huang”. Secretly, we thought our neighbour, Mr.
Huang, was more deserving of the prefix “Old”. For hours and hours, we would pick at dry shrubs,
chew on seedlings and hide under the occasional sapling from the scorching midday sun, along the
broken trails left behind by adventurous traders in eras past.
Living conditions were austere at best but we took pleasure in the simple life we led. My
older sister was already married by the time my younger brother was born. Her husband was from the
village next to ours and they sent us gifts from time to time: fruit, chickens, home-made rice wine...
We had been satisfied with the limited resources we had, until the arrival of televisions, mobile phones,
even computers. When these gadgets first became affordable, it was the most wildly exciting time for
our family. I still remember how I felt when I watched the delivery man drive up to our house. My
brother and I ran outside to greet him. He was the hero, a messenger from the future, the ambassador
for a new age of discovery.
It was fascinating. The world was larger than we could ever imagine - so many people from
so many different places. It was a whirlwind of vivid, pixelated colours painting lives of passion and
drama. It seemed so different - so far - from the world we lived in. We were inspired at first but
tiny seeds of envy were sown in our hearts, which steadily grew until the branches crawled out of our
windows and the tree trunks threatened to burst through our roof. It had dawned on us that we could
never live the kind of life we saw on television. A luxurious dream of beautiful people with their
countless comforts and riches, once dreamt of, would return to haunt those who had dared to dream it,
again and again. It consumed me.
Fortune had the courtesy to drop by to visit us, every now and then, perhaps owing to those
upside-down squares of red paper we used to stick on our front door every Chinese New Year. They
were meant to bring good fortune and prosperity. We had a visitor.
Uncle Hui was the best of us. He had made his way to the city in his youth during his own
encounter with that erratic architect of fate. It was almost summer when he visited. The heat was
unbearable for the city folk, who seemed to require air conditioning wherever they went. He took
pity on us, perhaps, having lived in those places we saw on television. My younger brother was too
young in his opinion but he was keen to take me with him - teach me, lead me, show me the world.
We left for Guangzhou almost immediately. My parents were sad to see me leave, but more excited
for the opportunity. It was like the Journey to the West that we used to watch on television and I was
the Monkey King.
The travelling took almost three days. I was overwhelmed with information but I learnt fast.
Uncle Hui told me that this was the up-and-coming part of our country. The GDP of Guangzhou