Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 591

Marketplace
Canadian International School of Hong Kong, Chou, Renee - 16
Silicon Valley of the East. The next economic powerhouse of Asia; a concentration of talent, business, and
technological development. That was the dream.
“Do you have any preferences in what language I use?”
“English would be nice. We’ve been living abroad and I’m afraid Mei Mei here wouldn’t be able
to understand.” My dad clapped his hands on my back.
“Understood, follow me.”
Ng Tze Ying, Holly Ng. Our tour guide introduced herself. Holly is fine. She was professionally
dressed, pin striped suit with rounded black heels, and spoke diplomatically but impassively.
She led us down a marble-tiled hallway. Panels of tinted glass gazed over the southern city of the
new region. From the ground sprouted towering pillars of architectural marvels, each one more impressive
than the previous. The concrete jungle spread across every inch of the flat land, spilling onto the ocean
when there was no more land to build upon. Rows upon rows of light flickered to life across the landscape,
and the bright orange of the dusk sun bled into the boat-filled sea ports.
“This building is known to have the best views in Hong Kong,” Holly said. “Right in front of us
we have our Victoria Harbour, right across is Kowloon, and right behind is Admiralty.”
We passed the underside of what seemed to be an elevated railway, the glass tunnel weaved under
the rumbles of the tram above. “That will become this region’s newest tram program. It has routes in the
city but also routes across the sea to the mainland and Macau.” Holly said. The program would encourage
cross-district travelling within the Greater Bay Area, she explained to us.
“If I may ask, what will become of that?” My mother pointed to crescent-shaped land. The sandy
ground flattened by road rollers, lazily rolling across.
“Ah, that would become our newest shipping port. We’ve reclaimed land to accommodate for the
predicted growth of import and export rates in the next ten years.”
“Mei Mei, do you know that Ba Ba’s shipping line is considering to switch to operating solely on
this port after it opens?” My father said, “Ba Ba will treat you with a nice present when that happens.
Something nice, like a necklace or a watch. How does Tiffany sound?”
“Dad!”
“Okay, okay, Ba Ba will stay quiet,” he said with a chuckle, “and what about the new residential
areas promised, I heard they were building a new public park?”
“Yes, that would platformed between the peak and mid-level, the high-levels. The park would be
exclusive to the high-levels residents.” Holly said.
When we reached the end of the glass tunnel, the pair of bronze door slid open, revealing the dusk
landscape.
“This way please.” Holly said, and we stepped into the glass-paned elevator.
The descent was slow, and we noiselessly slid down fifty floors.
Then, they surged upwards, tumbling across roofs and attaching itself onto buildings for a few
moments, before being swept away again. The paper was thin and the ink was still wet. Cheap paper and
cheap ink. In the brief moment it decided to rest its surface, it left half a letter of Chinese inscription stained
on the glass.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Merely blown up trash,” Holly said.
“Today is a rather windy day,” my mother comments.
“Yes, but what did it say?”
“Please don’t trouble yourself with it. We are currently still working with the cleaning companies
to deal with the recent growth in excess trash; you will not see anything in three months’ time.” Holly said.
“But-”
“Don’t be rude.” My mother said, so I didn’t respond. The elevator lapsed into the previous quiet.
On floor two the door slid open. In front of us were three walkways to three gigantic glass-roofed
elevated trams.
“The tram isn’t open for the public use yet, but would you like to give it a ride?” Holly offered.
“Of course,” my father said, “may I request to sit on this route?” He pointed to the tram in the
centre. Kowloon.