Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 303

receiving the small lump sum of money, a feeling in my gut told me I had earned this through rightful
means, through doing what was right. This new achievement indicated that I am valued, and through that, I
have gained respect from the state. Perhaps, this odd sense of accomplishment is what they call “self-
esteem”: even if I am simply an uneducated orphan, I still have my own part to play on this world, and that
I still have my own worth as a person.
23 February, 1427
Twenty years have passed, but not until yesterday had I decided to pick up this journal and start writing
again—life in these twenty years had simply been ordinary, except for what had happened very recently.
Ah Jun passed away last week, after being bed-bound for 20 years, as I kept watch over his bedside, caring
for his needs. If anyone were to ask me if I regret taking care of someone whom I’m not related to by
blood, I would reply that it is one of my greatest achievements in life, to have a brother like Ah Jun. Despite
having wanted to join the voyages again right after the ceremony, I felt that taking care of Ah Jun was my
obligation and a priority. And so I opened a mantou shop for twenty years, to maintain a stable income,
while stashing my sailing urges into the back of my mind.
And here I eagerly await the day the treasure fleet leaves the docks of Nanjing, with me onboard.
SEVENTH VOYAGE
3 July, 1433
Finally the day had come! The new king, Xuande Emperor, had issued the orders for the seventh voyage
three years ago on June 29. Soon enough, the fleet departed from Nanjing once again in the winter of 1431,
while I found myself on the main ship this time round. It was not a coincidence: the emperor himself had
assigned me onto the main treasure ship due to my past experiences with the treasure fleet. It was an honour
that I finally had a chance to serve next to the man who was in charge of it all. Zheng He himself.
Sadly, times like these wouldn’t last long. Just 4 months ago, Captain Zheng contracted an incurable illness
from India, and soon developed severe symptoms. Bedridden for the rest of the voyage, he was clearly too
weak to take charge of the fleets, and so he asked me to act as his deputy. I couldn’t help but question his
judgement initially, for there were people on the ship who were far more qualified than I was. But still, I
had a more meaning-searching query that demanded to be resolved.
And so, I found myself standing next to Captain Zheng’s sickbed.
“Why is it that you had launched this voyage, despite your age?”
The reply I received was very much detailed. “At 62, I should very much be enjoying my retirement. But
despite my old age, I have chosen to serve my country; as you recall, the new king has just ascended the
throne, making stable foreign relationships extremely important at this very moment. After all, he wished to
reinvigorate the tributary relations promoted a great many years ago."
The captain paused to cough, and I realized that he was far too sick to even make it back to the port at
Nanjing. “Through the past six voyages, you have demonstrated to the country your capacity and your
worthiness. You don’t need one more on your belt to prove it. Then why are you still risking your life for
this voyage?” He was visibly straining himself, and I hoped that he would keep his answers brief.
And brief they were, as Captain Zheng stated, “As a matter of fact, I know deep down that this may be my
very last voyage. But sometimes, the good of mankind is greater than your own good—one small step for
me, yet a giant leap for the entirety of our nation.”
This is a lesson that I would never forget for the rest of my life; that, to fully actualize oneself, one should
serve the greater good.