Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 85

‘an honest poor scholar.’ Amused and interested, May thought. ‘And a little handsome.’
“Wait, is that ‘Three hundred poems of Tang’?” The young man stopped flushing and stared at May’s book as if it was
a gold brick.
“You’ve read this?” surprised, May asked in excitement.
“I’ve read through three times in a row!” He said in pride.
“Well, I’m on my fifth!” May grinned, passion shone in both of their eyes. “We should have a cup of tea some time,
oh, and my name is…” the rest of her sentence was faded in the shouts of scholars, school was over, leaving May only
the name and teahouse
“…June…South land tea…”
After that haste first meet, they met often. Discussing all kinds of literatures, from poems to jambic verses. As time
dripped and dropped, friendship sprouted from their hearts, but not only did the friendship show its peek in their hearts,
so did something else – love. Even so nothing changed, they still talked about the same tales and books, but a goal was
stealthily, silently planted: June would go to the exam to become an officer in order to become rich and marry May.
Rain poured, concealing the crashes of the distance sea, thunder and lightning stroked making the wind weep in fear.
The door of June and Mays rented bookroom banged open as June bumped in, his face white and pale, mixed with rain
and tears. May, reading one of the pages in ‘ the collection of poems from Tang’, the jewel red bean book mark placed
in it, looked up, her heart fell ice cold when she met his eyes.
“Well?” she whispered in a shaky voice. Wishing that her guess was wrong.
“I failed the officer exam.” June croaked back, “still, I could run a bookstore and get rich…”
Bang! May threw back her chair, her tears busted out her empty terrified eyes. Stunned by Mays overreaction, June
tried to comfort her, but May just threw the book on to him and ran out of the door. June still frozen, stunned and
miserable stood their placing the book in his pocket.
The next day May still came, she told him to make his own book store. But all she did now was burring herself with
work.
A year past, the bookstore opened in success, and May seemed to have walked out the shadows of the failed exam.
Everything sang spring was coming, if you ignore the furious looks on May’s father and matchmaker. After knowing the
news about the store, the matchmaker left in reproach, and May’s father came to bungle June and Mays bookstore. Yet
when got there all he saw was a few shelves of books, sitting near was May, June and a few other scholars and children.
So he stood there for a whole day, looking them talk and smile about different books. May’s father left with a smile on
his face too.
Not after long he acquiesce June and May to get married.
June, May and their family all lived in joy, and the news that May’s brother had became an officer made things only
better. Things should have last this way, until all of their hair turns white, until their shop became famous to all of the
land of south, but when the news of the Ming voyages came back to their mind, all was too late. Before the last
goodbyes, June got pulled away into the huge stomach of the boat, into the claws and jaws of the deep unknown sea.
Leaving only the broken hearts of two young lovers, and the dripping tears sliding of the red bean stone bookmark.
A few days past, facing the deep blue sea, June sat on the deck of one of the ships, holding ‘three hundred poems of
tang’ he gave a small grin, he founded this book in his pocket, and flipped to the page where the red bean bookmark
lay. It was Wang Wei’s《相思》
红豆生南国，春来发几枝？
愿君多采撷，此物最相思。
Red beans grow in the land of south, how many new branches do they grow every spring?
I hope you can enjoy the collection of them, as they show the most sustenance love.
‘So she knew all this time.’ June smiled at the red bean bookmark. Slowly he moved his sight towards the sea it was
blue and unfathomable yet calm, the same in his eyes when he saw a huge black hole of the canon spitting its fire
tongue to their boat.
The wings of seagulls once young and bright that flew over the south sea sky had turned grey and dull, the clouds that
once cried in sorrow had thinned and faded through time.
The south land teahouse bookstore, known by every scholar and child, had a special background, it was famous for not
only the endless shelves of books and tea but the owner who knew every tale in every book she sold, she was an old