New Tales of Old Shanghai
Maryknoll Convent School ( Secondary Section ), Cheng , Emiri - 17
C
hau felt as if the heat of the scorching sun was penetrating his very being . His trolley has never felt this heavy , and his sweat has soaked through his white tank top . The sky was a radiant blue that reminded Chau of his mother ’ s favorite vase , but he might be able to appreciate it more if he didn ’ t feel as though he would melt at the slightest touch . The heat was merciless , not unlike the years he endured through hard work , sweat and tears .
“ I really should retire soon ,” Chau thought to himself . Yet he knew that he was merely humoring himself , as there was no way he could afford to stop working . Not much of a living can be made by selling meat buns you see , and that was the only thing Chau knew how to do . It wasn ’ t much , but it was enough , for now .
Beads of sweat slowly made their way Chau ’ s wrinkled face , down past his eyelids and in a swift drop , dripped down into his untrimmed moustache . Chau hated this weather . No one wanted meat buns in this weather anyways . He might as well rest . Nodding to himself , he parked his meat bun stall into a dark alley and started towards the nearby teashop .
What are the chances out of all the teashops in Shanghai that Chau walked into this one ? Oh , Chau knew this teashop . It was his teashop . Shanghai may have changed throughout the years , yet this teashop somehow eluded time ’ s embrace . The same aroma lingers through the air , while the wallpaper on the wall remains a dull , murky grey . With a wave of his hand , Chau beckoned the waiter over . A friendly face floats into view .
“ Tea sir ?”
Chau scoffed at him . “ No , I ’ m here for your scintillating company .” Rolling his eyes , he blathered on . “ Yes , I want tea .” Wasn ’ t it obvious ? It was a teashop . “ Oolong . Piping hot .”
“ Right away sir .” the waiter answered , his smile unwavering on his face .
Honestly , what was the damn waiter smiling about ? He didn ’ t know him . He didn ’ t know he was a regular customer until it happened . He had no business smiling at a complete stranger , It was not as if he cared about him .
The sound of tea sloshing around in his cup distracted him from his musings . It was the same waiter , and he was still wearing that maddening grin . Though more than a little irritated , Chau ’ s fingers tapped on the table on its own accord as a way of saying his thanks . His mother had instilled manners well into him , though through questionable methods .
Chau cursed . His thoughts always ended up back at his mother . It has been twenty-six years since it happened , yet the pain of his mother ’ s death never subsided . The image of his mother was as clear as crystal , and is , and perhaps forever will be , ingrained into the cortex of his brain . All those years had passed , and every little detail of the new world he lives in still reminded him of her .
He went down the memory lane again . Huangpu was her name . She was spirited , and a woman of substancethough he might be biased , he was his mother ’ s son after all . His mother hated her name . She always thought being named after the local river was unbecoming , something about having big shoes to fill and not being worthy . Chau thought she was worthy though , and so did everyone who knew her . She was fierce in reinforcing Shanghai traditions and superstitions , especially to her son . Not ever forces of nature could ’ ve stopped her when she ’ s made up her mind to do a task , and hell hath no fury when someone challenges her decisions . She was like her namesake this way , oh-so-very stubborn and equipped with a deafening roar .
The very table he was sitting on was diagonal to the table his mother favored when they visited the teashop together . His mother always brought him here when it was his birthday every year . She always smuggled Chang Shou Mian into the teashop , and all the waiters would turn a blind eye because they liked his mother . Then , she would make sure he doesn ’ t cut the noodles , as it symbolized longevity of a person ’ s life . She truly believed that his life would be shortened had he done so , so she screeched at him every time his chopsticks applied a fraction of more pressure onto the strands of noodles . His mother ’ s obsessiveness on superstition exasperated him then . He knew better now though , for it was a stark contrast to how he celebrates his birthday now . He still eats the same food , and now since he ’ s alone , he had the freedom to completely annihilate the noodles . He would sit at his home and eat the noodles with gusto , so he could resume his job that he hated as soon as possible . Same old Shanghai , but the warmth and love that he associated with the place has long faded , and had turned into long gone memories of the past .