Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 69

The Miles in Between
Good Hope School, Yim, Sunniva - 16
His regret took root on the fourth week.
His arm muscles were sore from the endless scrubbing that even he was not to be bothered with as a farmer’s
son, and he developed a newfound appreciation for his mother who had a knack for keeping the interior of their hut
immaculate. Ploughing and harvesting he could do, but he was unaccustomed to the foreign sensation of his knees
constantly against the hard floorboards. His knees were sore from the burden of his body, and his calves ached from
disuse – that was another downside to being confined to a ship. There were only so many places you could go,
especially when you weren’t summoned for.
The first day, still overfilled with the anticipation for the journey ahead and eager for any recognition from
these mysterious men that had visited his humble shores, he had gladly taken on any task they had thrown him. He was
handed a bucket with wet rags draped on the sides and asking what he was to do with them had only earned him a
pointed look from the deck master. He quickly learned the simple rule - to know your place and not speak up unless
being asked a question.
Though now he couldn’t fathom how, that day, and in the few that had followed, he had truly enjoyed the
process of staying low and busy, for it enabled him to explore every little nook and crook of the ship, and allowed him
to eavesdrop on casual conversations of passers-by without feeling uninvited.
For days he remained invisible and unimportant, the eagerness in him dimming with every repeated swipe of
his arm. He was tired of this endless cycle of cleaning and craved some semblance of excitement, though one could
argue that this life was not so different from the one of early risings and gruesome farming he had left behind.
He had a purpose back then, though. He knew that his effort would pay in the form of food for his family, and
it was he, the eldest son of a widowed family, who must work as diligently as he could. Each day he had worked, and
there were always the little things he could look forward to. Like getting glimpses of Wong’s girl who would pass by
with a basket of food from the market every noon, consistent as clockwork. Or, bragging to his baby sister in hushed
tones about how he had fended off starved beasts targeting their fields. Sometimes, if it was a long day, he could ask his
little brother what he had learned at school, and would reassure himself that it was only made possible through him
giving up his own chance at studying to take up their father’s mantle, when he was called away to defend the honour of
His Imperial Majesty. Back then, it was a sense of purpose that drove him on to tolerate the regularities and stomach the
constantly nagging feeling that he was deprived of choices, trapped in this life by obligations and expectations like a bird
in the mouth of a canary.
He saw his mother’s pleading eyes when she handed him a bag of rice cakes. Refreshments for the trip, she had
called them, as if he would only be gone for a few days. The night before, she had tried to reason against his leaving,
but a quick sharpening of his tone had silenced her. Don’t keep me from a better life, he had refrained himself from
saying. He was considered a young man now, it often startled him to realise. It empowered him, if not just to give him
the autonomy to choose to leave.
Leave . It was a spited word, reserved for cowards who abandon their families in hardship. No, he had to
remind himself. He left an honourable man, for the captain had paid his full wages for a decade in advancement, before
they departed. They paid in intricately carved gold adornments and finely woven silk, and who could say no to such a
lucrative offer, except for the weak-minded and oversentimental bunch? He loved his family, but he needed to feed
them more, with most able-bodied men conscripted and gone.
A rare chance, they had called this, when they called for young men to join them. They did not recruit often,
for the last time was well over a decade, but now they needed to fill the decks of a few new vessels. Ships gifted by His
Imperial Majesty, due to their success in shaping foreign relations. It was mìngyùn , he had recognised, a chance perhaps
crafted by Guanyin , who had heard his faithful, albeit silent, prayers to be rid of his confinements and took pity on him.
What little men left of his dingy village who had not yet been of age two years ago during the conscription had all left
to join this magnificent army on their adventures.
Adventures, they were promised. These visitors had stayed for two weeks at the most lavish taverns there was
within ten miles, visiting the market each day and paying for any purchase in gold or silver. They had claimed they
were restocking on refreshments, and it was a blessing to their village who mostly traded in items of need. Each night
they would attract a crowd at the respective taverns, and the usually frugal