Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 365

He felt a harsh push on his back, tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. Above him, there was
Yao, holding his hands up as a sign of truce. Stephan felt cold sweat dripping down his temples. His escort
had just pushed him to his death to save himself. His limbs felt numb, he had no way of protecting himself
in this state, let alone against a gang. So as they closed in, he whimpered. Death was so near he had only
hoped it would be painless.
But they had not attacked him. He laid there on the ground flummoxed to no end, the moon and stars
the only things in his vision. Were they to jump him from behind? He did not think so. It was almost as
if he was invisible as the gang slowly made their way towards Yao, they kept chanting the Chinese phrase
"Mài guó zéi!” " Mài guó zéi! ” " Mài guó zéi! ”
It only got louder and louder, until Stephan couldn’t hear anything else. The noise hurt his ear so much,
he forced himself to get up and ran the opposite direction. He ran, and he ran into the streets and
alleys of the isolated city.
Saturated with prejudice, the tale of a british councilman and his escort was left within the walls of old
city of Shanghai, to stay and to rot, never to be discovered.