Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 130

Yesterday we crossed a frozen lake and lost many of our men. The ice has cracked halfway in the crossing,
and many of the men has dropped into the freezing water, the sharp ice slitting their skin open. There was
nothing we could do but watch them as they struggled—they would have died from the freezing water
clinging to their skin even if they managed to get out. All we could do was say our prayers, thank them for
being with us on this journey, and step past them. We didn’t look back.
Often we were silent, conserving the limited energy we had in our bodies to get through the horrible
climates. But sometimes, when the silence was too deafening, we would start conversations. We would talk
about life back at home, the bits and pieces, the ups and downs. It’s a trip down memory lane, and the
warmth from these pleasant memories was a great distraction from the desolate lands.
“Once this all ends, I want to start a family,” one of the men had said. “All I wish is for my children to have
a peaceful life, with no war and suffering.”
I remembered thinking about my dreams then. It was the start of the march, and I remembered how shiny
everyone's weapons were compared to my dusty old pistol that belonged to Ba. I remembered wishing for a
new pistol, clean and shiny, handsome and grand.
But now, halfway into the march and miles away from home, all I could wish for was a family reunion. The
death of Wang had brought deeper traumas than I would have ever imagined. It triggered memories from
sweet, sweet childhood. The family as one, an easy life, a chance to thrive. I missed Ma and Cixi, whom I
have left behind at home months ago. Not to mention Ba, whom I have not seen for more than a year. I
had no connections with my family whatsoever, so whether they're between life or death, I could only hope
for the best.
“I had bad relations with my family, and now I regret it a lot,” said Haimin. Haimin has become my
companion since Wang. The sudden sense of loneliness almost killed me; I was depressed and demoralized.
If it wasn’t for him, I would be nothing but a lost soul. He was there for me, supporting me in every step,
and making sure that I was okay when I was in mourning.
“Really? How so?” I asked.
“I was never a good son. I wasted my golden years in drugs and gambling, hardly spent any time with my
parents…” he said. “I had so much time to think and reflect in this journey, a