Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 301

He was there earlier than he was supposed to, so he could stop by Serene’s dressing room before her show. He
had asked for her assistance on something that afternoon as well…….
Trying to act normal, he steeled his nerves and walked through the entrance casually, hands in his pockets.
Passing the mahogany reception desk lit by two floral hanging lamps, he heaved a silent sigh of relieve. The
receptionist hardly paid any attention to him. Or his enraged guest, for that matter.
Finding the side door behind the public sitting area of the hotel, as described by Serene, he stepped into a
carpeted corridor, counted three doors down to the left, and knocked.
Serene’s golden lily hairpiece jingled as she poked her head out of the door. “Come in!” She said, pulling the
door open.
Sum stepped into her dressing room. “Is that the lily hairpin your father gave you last week?”
“This thing?” She reached up to touch the dripping aureate flower that was keeping her hair up securely. “Yes,
another lily accessory. Dad said it complements both our personalities. I personally think it’s the contrary.”
Sum noticed her fingers twisting the fabrics of her cheongsam, the heavily embroidered fabric of carmine
twirling with its brilliant golden weavings like a gymnast doing her ribbon dance.
“What did your father advise you on being nervous before a performance?” He prompted her.
She blew a lock of hair from her face. “To always trust my instincts, that are telling me everything is going to be
okay.”
“And how many times did that advice work out for you?”
“Everytime.” She took a deep breath and smiled, her tiny golden lilies reflecting little rays of light onto her red
lips and powdered rosy cheeks. She looked elegant, calm. Mature, even. Her lily perfume drifted in the air
around her, eliciting a warm sense of comfort to Sum. “Thank you, Sum.”
He gave a small smile. “You should trust your father’s words. I trust him, even though I’ve never met him. After
all, he's the one who raised you.”
She laughed and shook her head slightly. “Your clothes are behind the screen. They should fit you comfortably.
Go change.”
He had asked Serene for an outfit that would make him blend into the higher-class crowd of traders and
officials, and Serene had put together an outfit consisting of a blue suit paired with a crisp white shirt, and nice
leather shoes.
Now he stared at himself in the dressing table mirror. He looked like a proper westerner-- looking smart and
well-groomed.
He didn’t feel ready, but at least he looked ready.
Since it would be difficult to disguise the entire gang of sea bandits, only Wang accompanied Sum. And now
they sat on the steps of a side entrance, waiting.
Sum’s hands twitched. Wang noticed and tilted his head towards him, “Nervous, Little Sum?”
Sum scowled.
“No.” He said shortly.
Wang sighed and took a pipe out of his pocket. “Want a whiff?”
He lighted the pipe and took a deep breath. Sum shook his head.
Wang’s face twitched, momentarily stretching his gruesome scar. He breathed out. “You know, this is what
soldiers take before a battle, this God’s Own Medicine. Some say it calms you down, excites you, or, if you’re
one of the lucky ones, makes you fall asleep. Want to bet what’ll happen to you?”
Sum frowned. But he was interested. Everyday he sees men slouched on their sofas, puffing away. He had never
seen the attraction of just sitting around and drawing on a pipe, and the sickly sweet, floral smell was never
enough to tempt him. He had only seen the clouds of smoke a small source of vexation.
Wang held out the pipe.
He took it, and brought it to his mouth. He sucked in. The smoke swirled around his lungs before being
breathed out again. He took another whiff. And another. And another.