Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 29

her house, and ventured out into the darkness. Upon arrival at the bamboo woods, she stood rooted to the ground, staring
into the looming darkness. She felt welcomed.
“Make a wish, musume , make a wish! You’re Japanese. The wish will come true.” Ah’Huang giggled as she
scribbled a rough sketch on a scrap of paper. She looked up, meeting her father’s loving gaze. She pointed at her sketch
elatedly, “ Kazoku ! I wish we could stay like this forever, you, me and Okaasan.” Her father gently ruffled Ah-Huang’s
hair. “Of course, musume . Our kazoku will stay complete.”
Well, seems like wishes don’t come true after all . Ah’Huang knelt onto the ground and fished out a crumpled piece of
paper from her pocket. She jotted down her wishes, mumbled something in Japanese, and gingerly hung the strip of paper
on a bamboo. As she was about to leave, she met a pair of eyes glowing in the darkness. They were the glistening eyes of a
young lady. Somehow, Ah’Huang found them familiar, as if she had seen them before. Before she could identify who that
was, the pair of eyes had vanished.
When Ah’Huang arrived at her usual nightclub the other evening, all the dancers were huddled together. Ah’Huang
assumed they were gossiping about some wealthy young man again. Ever since Hu’Qing married a businessman a couple of
years ago , Ah’Huang thought as she applied her makeup, everyone has been fantasizing about meeting their prince charming
at the nightclub . She chuckled at the thought of it.
“Ah’Huang, Ah’Huang!” The dancers realised Ah’Huang had entered the room, and immediately huddled over her.
Ah-Huang gaped in confusion as eleven pairs of fake eyelashes batted at her face. A few uneasy seconds passed and only the
soft bass music could be heard from the stage. No one breathed.
“Haven’t you heard? You’re this year’s Chinese Red Blossom, Ah’Huang!” Hu’Ling piped up, squealing in ecstasy.
The other dancers fervently nodded their heads, their pinned hair knots bobbing. One by one, they planted a kiss on
Ah’Huang’s cheek, wishing her all the best. Ah’Huang looked blank, as if she had been stunned. The world was spiraling
around her, befuddling her senses. Even when Mrs. Zhang busted through the door and hugged Ah’Huang, almost crushing
Ah’Huang with her weight, Ah’Huang still had not regained her consciousness.
“Ah’Huang, baobei , I am so proud of you. You bring honour to our nightclub! We haven’t had a Chinese Red
Blossom in so many years… finally! Finally!” Tears were pouring out of Mrs Zhang’s eyes, her mascara smudged all over her
puffy cheeks. Ah’Huang ignored Mrs Zhang and ran out the door.
The cool summer winds embraced her. She touched her cheeks - they were flaming hot but her hands were chilly.
Her feet were numb but her neck was burning. She was cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. She started ambling through the streets of Old
Shanghai, taking in the familiar scene of nightclubs packed neatly along the two sides of the street. Young girls, dressed in
unnecessarily cropped miniskirts, hurried into the nightclubs. On the far end of the road, boys that looked no older than
fifteen were sniffing a powder from a packet and collapsing onto the ground in delirium. Ah’Huang no longer felt like
walking. She began to hop. To twirl. To leap. Almost involuntarily, her body raced against the wind. Ah-Huang found
herself cachinnating; her drunken laughter echoed throughout the streets. She felt alive. Recharged. Rejuvenated. That was
when it sank in- She, Ah-Huang, was the Chinese Red Blossom.
‘ Although ,’ Ah-Huang realised, ‘ That doesn’t sound right.’
It was finally the night of the show, the night when the Chinese Red Blossom would flourish. The show was an annual
event that was held in high regard in Shanghai. Tradesmen, merchants, and gangsters- all the usual customers of all the
nightclubs in Shanghai, would gather to enjoy the show of the Chinese Red Blossom. The show symbolised honour,
glamour, and pride; Old Shanghai would not be the renowned “Paris in the East” if the show did not exist.
Ah-Huang’s fingers danced over her qipao . It was beaming scarlet, which effuse elegance with a twinge of fieriness.
The figure-hugging dress sashayed onto the ground, the lace embroidery revealing a low-cut dip at the back. It was
breathtaking.