Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 72

“Ai-liu?” I asked, turning around-and groaned in frustration as I found myself between red walls yet again.
Our third meeting happened all on its own.
I wondered if the ticket administrator recognized me by now.
I didn’t even need to touch the vase this time. As soon as I found the exhibit, her hand was in mine, significantly larger
than before.
“Oh, look, it’s you again,” Ai-liu’s voice reached my ears, but they no longer had the squeak of a child. Her face came
into view.
“You’re as tall as I am,” I blinked. “How old are you now?”
“Fifteen.” Ai-liu grinned. “We’re the same age.”
“Physically,” she added after a moment’s thought.
“What do you mean?” I huffed. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m inclined to believe that you’re a ghost,” Ai-liu stated calmly.
“Or I’m simply blessed with youth and beauty,” I joked and both of us laughed.
Making our way towards an unknown street, we smiled and talked like nothing had changed. Yet, there was an
undercurrent that I ha d never felt before. I saw it in the tension of the people around us, heard it in the low and urgent
tones that they discussed with. I even saw it in Ai-liu’s eyes, constantly flitting to and fro nervously. It was as if the entire
city was on edge, grimly waiting for some kind of disaster to approach.
“Ai-liu,” I interrupted.
“What is it?” Ai-liu replied, turning serious as she caught onto my mood.
“Is something about to happen?” I asked, and her face turned dark.
“It’s-” she bit her lip. “We shouldn’t say this in public. I’ll tell you all about it when we get to uncle’s place.” And she said
no more until we reached a little wine-selling shop in a corner of the street.
“Ai-liu!” A man called out from behind the counter.
“Uncle!” Ai-liu replied. “This is my friend, Emily.” I waved awkwardly.
“Hello, Emily,” her uncle greeted me, pouring water into our cups. I liked his kind expression and crow’s feet, yet the
deep lines on his forehead told me that didn’t do a lot of smiling anymore.
Ai-liu said, “Uncle, Emily wants to know what’s happening around here.” Her uncle frowned at her request, and he
immediately looked like a weary old man who had seen too much of life.
“What’s happening, you say?” he muttered, pouring wine into a much larger cup, “Nothing, really. Nothing has happened
yet,” he downed the wine in one go, “But the Japanese have nearly conquered all of the North, and soon they’ll be