Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 318

of comfort,” said Xiǎo Lián mildly. “Well obviously I am no stranger “A tomboyish personality, an
uncompromising attitude – I possess the worst traits a man would wish to find in his wife. But mind you, I
consider myself very lucky, for I don’t have pestering parents to deal with. Though sometimes wish I had.” Her
last sentence was uttered so softly, the girls had to strain their ears to hear it, yet they heard it all the same.
Four girls, four very different looks and personalities. Hunched over tea and dainty delicacies, they talked about
their dreams and goals, their joy and worries, their family and marriage. Away from the pressure of marriage, of
being a filial wife and a responsible mother; away from the expectations of society, of being stereotypically
ladylike and dignified. Among the four, an unlikely and unexpectedly strong bond formed, holding them up
better than any man, supporting them more than any dowry. It was a mutual support and a shared women to
women appreciation of positive female traits.
Sunset came before they knew it, and valets were soon interrupting the girls’ conversation. One by one, Hóng
Xiá, Mò Chóu and Xiǎo Lián were escorted and whisked away by their drivers and servants, all claiming that the
girls were late for dinner. The girls were pulled apart before they had the chance to react, let alone schedule
another reunion. Ní Huáng watched, disappointed and heartbroken, as the three girls who spoke so candidly of
their dreams just an hour ago were back in the claws of fate yet again.
As Ní Huáng sat in solitude at the table by the window, sipping her stone-cold tea, she reminisced about the
girls’ dreams: Mò Chóu aspired to be a doctor, Hóng Xiá an artist, Xiǎo Lián an author, while Ní Huáng herself
dreamt of being a fashion designer. She sat and thought about their dreams, while regarding the departing cars
with hollow despair and bitter resentment.
Was it a curse or a blessing, to experience the lack of parental guidance at such a tender age? If Ní Huáng had her
parents by her side, she would have been no different from the other three – she would have no control over her
own life. ‘At least I can decide when to go home’, she giggled humorously. Fate had arranged their paths to
cross, yet fate had again disillusioned their hopeful dreams.
Would their friendship become a lifelong memory, or would it be buried away in the ashes of their fantasies?
The strings of their lives had been tangled and bonded together, but would time unwind their tight knot,
scattering their strings across the streets of Shanghai, forbidding them to ever touch again?
Every Saturday afternoon, a woman sits and smokes at the table near the balcony. She stares as white smoke rises,
waiting for the day when the white fumes die away to reveal the three girls. Waiting for the day when Chinese
women would no longer be objects of desire and use. The day when women here in the heart of modern China
would have the opportunity to shape their own destinies.