Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 287

One morning, as we all ate our morning meal, Leung noticed something. ‘Where’s Ming?’
I looked around, and didn’t see Ming, nor hear him, which was weird, because usually one can hear him
from a mile away, and he is enormous.
‘He’s not awake yet?’ said Chan, with his mouth full of grub.
‘It’s possible. But usually, doesn’t he wake up the earliest?’
‘Right…’
‘Let’s fetch him,’ I decided, swallowing my bite and getting up from my chair. ‘I’m not lifting those bags
without him.’
The others muttered in agreement.
Still half asleep, we shuffled towards Ming’s room, which was the closest to the living area.
‘Ming!’ Chan hollered. ‘Get up already!’
No answer.
‘Ming!’ Chan yelled louder. ‘I’m knocking your door down!’
Yet no answer.
‘Let’s just break it down! Get something, quick!’
In a jiffy, with a metal pole, the handiest we could grab, the door was burst open and in we stormed. But
just after we charged in, we saw something that stopped us. Ming was lying face-first to the floor, very still
and quite dead.
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‘Who did it?’
I asked for the tenth time as I paced around the deck, trying to calm myself down and failing so.
‘I don’t know, boss. But, why ain’t he wounded or anything? And there’s no blood anywhere too…,’ said
Leung, apparently just as distressed.
‘And the rock beside him. What could that mean?’ asked Liang, who was a bit more weak-willed and so,
was sitting on a stool shaking. ‘It reminds me of that one poem… no it can’t be…’
‘What poem?’ Chan flared up. ‘Spill if you know anything.’
‘You know, the poem on vengeful water spirits mothers tell their kids so they don’t go swimming in seas?’
‘Oh… that poem,’ said Leung. ‘Wait, what? So now…’
‘I think supernatural forces claimed him,’ said Liang, still slightly trembling.
‘Well… It would make sense.’ said Chan. ‘Not that we know who did it.’
Really, who was I to argue? But then, I saw Tang’s head shake, and I knew the thing was much more
complicated than just ‘a spirit killed him’. Back in my room (because a little killing can really hold anyone
off their jobs, and it’s not like the bigwigs can ride in the middle of the ocean), ‘he’ floated in and started to
talk.
‘No way it could’ve been a supernatural kill,’ said Wong.
‘Why are you so sure?’ I mean, this is far-fetched. Someone just floats in and tells you something important,
real casual. You’d think it’s a practical joke.
‘You guys have a guardian spirit, me, right? … w ho’s been on patrol, saying no invaders.’
‘Oh yeah…’ I’ve almost forgotten about Wong, even though I give him oranges every day. I guess I should
give him more. ‘So, who did it? Judging from it …’
‘I tell you, its strangling’
‘Why?’