Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 197

New Tales of the Ming Treasure Voyages
St. Joseph's College, Yip, Hei - 13
“I lift my drink and sing a song, for who knows if life is short or long? Man's life is but the morning dew,
past days many, future ones few.”
It was 1422 when I was 18 years old. I studied under the Gong'an School of letters where I majored in
music theory and poetry. “Books are full of a dull text, only when you hear the melody, your heart
resonates.” I thought.
In my study period, I met a Japanese student named Saito Asuka, who travelled from a far country to search
for the same vision. He said, "There must be emotional power between people, and music is the medium
for conveying good things." We studied music together, wrote lyrics and created music. As there's no
banquet without an end, we spent eight years in college until Asuka returned to Japan.
At the beginning, we wrote letter to each another. But gradually, the amount reduced. In his last letter in
early 1430, he wrote: "I have been recruited into the army and have been training all day. All we once knew
is beaten by a broken dream. This is not the world I had in mind!" The same fate was added to me one year
later.
Japan conquerors had always had the dream of conquering China. As the fierce Japanese army first
encountered the Ming’s forces, they defeated 5,000 Chinese soldiers. Soon, with Ming’s greater military
participation of 45,000, our army succeeded in driving the Japanese to the south.
Soon, a treaty would be signed, and I was included in the Zhenghe’s treasure fleet as a poet and musician.
With a broken smile and tired eyes, I could almost go through my friend’s same longing heart as before.
On the afternoon of September 12th, 1432, the treaty was all set to go. Zhenghe and his fellow government
officials, whom I had never had the privilege to meet, had left the fleet and set feet on the designated island
with cargos of gold and silk to give away as gifts. Some people seemed to get all sunshine, and some all
shadow. For me, I was preparing to hit the sack when a distant explosion appeared out of nowhere.
Soon, outbursts came nearer and nearer, and those staying on board were left in a state of shock. One by
one, sound waves rocked the vulnerable cabin. Shortly, a platoon leader rushed back to the ship and
announced, “The …the treaty… treaty has been broken by the Japanese. We are now in war status on the
frontline. All remaining battalions prepare yourselves and fight for our country!”
Just when I was losing my bearings, the leader turned his face to me and said, “Make yourself useful on the
field. Music and poems are not going to save your puny life right now!”
Belt buckled, breastplate installed, helmet put on, I sped to the war zone with my companions, a suicide
squad.
Once arrived, I jumped into the pit. Above my head, the bullets from matchlock firearms were smashing
into pieces of dirt. Huge stones collapsed, and the dead corpses were flying in air. Ahead, gunpowder from
the enemy was roaring; Behind, explosions from the Allies made up the hustle and bustle.
I had already scared out of my wits. My blood ran cold, my feet were sore. My mouth was dry and bitter as
well, which was a mixture of sweat and blood on the face. The air was full of gunpowder and rancid smell.
“Where am I? Why am I here?”
“Japanese dogs go to hell!” A Ming soldier threw away his matchlock, climbed up the pit, and ignited a
Huolongjing cannon. “Bang!” My ears were ringing, head spinning. In a blink, the bronze metal parts of a
cannon bursted open, disintegrating the soldier. A Japanese soldier had fired a rocket into the cannon just
before the cannon could shoot its own. The single Japanese rocket artillery trooper killed fifty soldiers that
day.
The bloody sunset had faded. On the vast expanse of muddy zone, both sides stared at each other like tigers,
and neither would retreat from the battlefield first. In the pit, there were bodies and letters of wives and
children. I had no retreat, no reinforcements, only the moon hung up lonely in the rainy night.
I couldn't move, or I would be blasted into pieces by the Japanese rocket trooper at any time. Drops of red
liquid flowed down my face. Everything around seemed to have swallowed me up.
“We are all so much together, but we are all dying of loneliness.” Sighing for my fiancée and parents back in
Shuntian, I had to live and fight for another day.
I spit a mouthful of bubbly blood on the floor, and stretched my paralyzed right hand into the pocket. I
took out a green bamboo flute, put the mouthpiece on my lips, took a deep breath, and finally I twitched
and blew the tune “Short Song Style”.