Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 28

The New Tales of Old Shanghai
Diocesan Girls' School, Wei, Tiffany – 16
“K
uai, kuai ! Ladies, it’s your turn. Min’Xia, quit reapplying your blush. Ah’Huang, scoot over here and get into
position! Chop, chop, hurry up!”
Twelve dolls, their faces caked with makeup and their hair bundled in tight knots, hastily formed a line as they shuffled
in their pink dresses. A plump woman in her fifties was busily inspecting the girls. As music started to play, the girls extended
their dainty arms in lanhuashou and stepped out into the sea of blinding lights.
One, two, three, one, two, three…... Ah’Huang beamed as she raised her leg to draw an elaborate circle in mid-air; the
room thundered with cheers and whistles. Her heart pounded in excitement as she displayed her polished dance moves under
the spotlight. The girls received a standing ovation as they proudly assembled in their ending pose.
“Good work tonight, girls,” The plump woman grinned as the girls filed into the backstage. She glanced at Ah’Huang.
“Especially you, Ah-Huang. No wonder your basket was overflowing.” She handed Ah-Huang a basket overflowing with
banknotes. Ah-Huang flushed bright red and mumbled, “Thank you, Mrs. Zhang.”
The clock struck four when Ah’Huang returned home. She slipped out of her dress and carefully hung it behind the
door. The sequins embedded on the hem of the dress sparkled like diamonds under the soft moonlight. Ah’Huang smiled
contentedly. She shifted her gaze, which landed upon a poster of a strikingly beautiful lady. Her creamy, slender leg extended
through the thigh crack of the shimmering red qipao . She flaunted her figure as confidence shone from her smile. Gently
caressing the qipao on the poster, Ah’Huang shook her head, and sighed.
“I can already picture you in the qipao ,” a voice broke the silence.
“ Okaasan. I thought you were asleep.” Ah’Huang turned to face her mother, who was leaning against the bedroom
door.
Her mother shifted towards Ah’Huang. “You can do it, musume . Trust me. You danced before you knew how to
walk. You’re a natural.”
Receiving no response , her mother continued, “Tomorrow is Tanabata Matsuri , musume . Make a wish and it will
come true.”
Ah’Huang hugged her mother tightly as a tear rolled down along her cheek. “Yes, Okaasan. Tomorrow, in the
bamboo woods, I shall record my wishes, and they shall come true.”
She casted one last glance at the poster before she went to bed.
Tanabata Matsuri had always held a significant position in Ah’Huang’s heart. She vividly remembered the times when
she celebrated the festival with her father, ten years back. “ Musume , never forget your roots.” He would say. He made sure
Ah’Huang knew that, deep down, she was a Japanese at heart. But was she? She was born and raised in Shanghai - did that
make her Chinese? She had no answer.
After a night of dancing, Ah’Huang was ready to fall unconscious in bed. However, she knew that tonight was special.
Tonight was the night when wishes would come true. Somewhat reluctantly, she heaved herself out of bed, slipped out of