Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 101

“She is a monster,” the people whisper, “a monster a shining tail for her legs, dyed red with the blood of every
monster she ever slain. She is a goddess of the deepest oceans, with golden eyes that can see into your soul and the
seafoam in her wake is a bloody scarlet. I heard Zheng He made a deal with her, and that she would sink any ship in his
way in exchange for any loot on board. They say she eats anyone from those ships as well.”
The crew all scoff at the rumours, but are grateful for the dwindling amount of pirates they face. Zheng He’s fleet
has gained a reputation, and on their sixth voyage, there is no one who dares oppose them. The mermaid spends her
time splashing alongside dolphins, admiring the tattoos and piercings of the newer sailors and learning rude ditties from
the older crew members that she tries to shock her father with by singing them at the top of her lungs, bwady lyrics
booming out across the waves.
Zheng He looks to the heavens and prays for the gods to grant him patience, a wry smile twitching at the corner
of his mouth. The mermaid sees it and grins, diving back into the waves to help corral a school of fish into the crew’s
waiting nets.
----
“I’ll be dying soon,” the captain says, looking over the railing at the mermaid. It is his seventh voyage, and he can
feel it in his bones. He has already adopted an heir to settle his affairs, and while his physicians have advised him against
this voyage, he wants to die with his daughter by his side.
“If I go before this trip is finished, guard the ship.” he continues. “I know you always have, but they’re lost
without you there.”
“Of course I will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’ll always protect my family.”
They share an amused look, the old man and his daughter, almost bigger than the ship and forever frozen at the
age of twenty-four.
“I love you,” she says quietly. I’ll miss you, she can’t quite bring herself to say, but her father reaches out a
wrinkled hand and she takes it gently with two of her fingers.
I love you too, he thinks, the unspoken reply hanging between them as they look out across the sunset, the waves
turning a molten gold.
----
Some legends say the day Captain Zheng died, the goddess of the sea, Tian Fei herself mourned his passing, her
cries of anguish heard echoing across the water for miles. The crews on board the ships mourned for the good captain,
the good friend. They comforted his grieving daughter, who finally allowed herself to break after putting on a brave
smile for her dying father day after day until one morning, he didn’t wake up.
She cries great heaving sobs night after night, her musical voice warped into something unrecognizable by sadness.
“Baba,” she cries, “My baba.”
But she is not a child anymore, and her father is not there to comfort her with quiet lullabies.
----
We have forgotten her now. She is a creature of myth and legends of ages past, and our world is no place for a
mermaid.
But the fishermen still whisper her tales. We call her by many names: Tian Fei, Mazu, Tian Hou. She is
benevolent, she is cruel; she is the harsh, unfeeling storm, she is the gentle wind in the sails. She whispers warnings of
typhoons, calms the winds long enough for them to sail a little further out for more fish.