Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 516

A Tale of Old Shanghai
Yew Chung International, Lo, Michelle - 13
T
he day the children of Shanghai first tasted freedom was also the worst day of her life.
It started with the wall. Taller than a thousand men and built entirely from cold grey stone, the wall completely encompassed the ancient
city of Old Shanghai. Created ten years ago to protect the city from invaders, its heavy iron gates and towering watchtowers did not allow
anyone to enter the city.
The people of Shanghai called the wall by many different names. To some, it was a miracle of engineering. To others, it was their greatest form of
armour.
To Xu, however, the wall was a cage - for as no one was allowed into the city, no one was allowed out either.
Today, though, everything would change. Today, for the first time in history, the wall gates would open.
…
"Now?"
"Soon."
The children crowded around the window eagerly, chattering incessantly in anticipation. They were all twelve years old, and if there had been a day
ten years ago when the wall had finished construction and closed its gates in finality, they could not recall. Out of the dozens of schoolchildren
huddled at the window, none of them had set foot outside Shanghai in ten years. Sometimes, in the depths of their sleep, they remembered the faint
sigh of a sea breeze and the gentle tickle of t all grasses upon their feet - but then they always awoke to the sight of the city wall and the ringing of the
watchtower bells, and their dreams were gone.
Yesterday in class, they had read about the world outside of Shanghai. They had read about lush green mountains and clear blue lakes. They had
spoken about the sea that existed right outside the walls. They had heard about the crystalline waters of the ocean and the soft sand of the beach, and
they had all written short poems about it.
Xu stood at the front of the classroom and read her poem out loud, her voice barely above a whisper. She was a petite, frail girl who looked as
though her time inside the walls had faded the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips. She trembled as she spoke. "The sea is as blue as the sky on
a summer's day, yet when the gates close the waves go away."
"You didn't write that," one of her classmates, Li, protested. "You don't know what the sea looks like!"
"I do know," replied Xu. "I do know."
Because, unlike the other children, she had seen the outside world. She had felt the wind blow across her face in the open countryside; she had
watched the sun sink into the ocean at twilight; she had sailed across the waters of the Yangtze and tasted the sea breeze on her tongue. She had been
outside, lived outside, and she remembered it all, from the exact curve of the bay to the salty air of the coast.
"Where's the teacher?"
"She'll be back, I'm sure."
The children chattered amongst themselves, rambunctious and loud. Xu stood away from them, away from these children who had never left the
confines of the city before, ignoring the cacophony as she stared at the closed gates.
"What're you looking at?" Li asked scornfully and shoved her roughly. The other children looked away. Xu wanted to call out to them, wanted to
cry out for help, but she knew that they would merely turn a blind eye.
No matter how much pain she was in, they would never help her. They ignored her, hated her, for she was simply too different.