Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 71

Our second meeting happened through an unsatisfied curiosity. I had been haunted by the incident ever since. Rather, I let it haunt me. After all, time travelling wasn’t an everyday occurrence, not for any normal being and certainly not for me. But did it really happen? I decided to go back and check. Picking a weekday, I travelled back to the museum, back to the exhibit, and waited for Ai-liu to appear with a pounding heart. Nothing. I frowned in disappointment. Was it a dream after all? Or perhaps...I strode over to the vase. Reaching out towards the vase, I stroked it nervously. Then, as I watched, the air above my palm gradually shivered into the shape of a hand. “Ai-liu?” I gasped, and nearly doubled over at the sight of a nine year old. “Who are you?” she asked. I could detect a hint of wariness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. “How do you know my name?” “I’m Emily,” I said weakly, “The foreigner you met three days ago? It is still 1929?” “What are you talking about?” Ai liu replied. “That was three years ago…” her eyes widened. “You’re Emily!” she gasped, “But you- you haven’t changed at all! What are you?” she tried to pull her hand away. “Wait!” I implored. “I’m not a monster, I swear!” “Let me go!” Ai-liu cried, struggling against my hold. “I just want to finish the sightseeing!” I begged. Ai-liu stopped struggling. “Fine.” To my delight, she finally agreed, “I’ll show you around, just this once.” This time, she led me away from the harbor and onto a smaller road with Tong Lau on both sides, banners hanging down and signs in Chinese put up, carriages on the road pulled by grunting workers. “This is Nanjing road,” Ai-liu explained. “N-Nanjing,” I gawked. “How?” The sight that greeted me was nothing like the large malls and skyscrapers on the twenty first century Nanjing road. “I never got to treat you to steamed buns, right? I’ll do that today,” Ai liu said. Wow. The kid had a good memory. The rest of our day was spent strolling along Nanjing road, visiting shops to eat or purchase goods, sometimes stopping to talk to a friend or relative of Ai-liu’s. Our spirits continued to soar as we laughed and traded stories under rooftops that were no longer blurred, and everything was vivid and real. As the sun gradually sank below the horizon, we left Nanjing road behind, walking hand in hand. “I want you to meet my family,” Ai-liu giggled. “What should I tell them though?” “Maybe you could tell them that I’m Casper the friendly ghost,” I hummed. “Oof!” I grunted as I tripped over a bump in the road, letting go of her hand while I flailed my arms about. “That was close,” I laughed. Silence.