Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 110

plenty of people in China had the same last name as him. Despite this, the more Qing told Xiang about himself, the
more Xiang could see the resemblance between his father and the man.
As the two men walked through the cramped streets, a deafening sound emitted from a rambling, ivy-coloured
tram that was making its way through the city of Old Shanghai. Pervading the alleys (which sent a swarm of shivers
down Xiang’s spine for he had always had an irrational fear of them) was the stench of sour milk and vinegar which
guided the two men to their destination. As they hurried through the unkempt wreck that was the Bund, Xiang
heard wisps of chatter like ransom, murder, kidnap and death coming from the walls of the buildings surrounding
him. Arriving at the rotting structure, Xiang saw drunk men inside violently fighting after arguments had broken
out. Various debris and human waste littered the floor where a rug would have normally been laid out if the owners
of the place had been at all worried about cleanliness or comfort. Like a bolt of lightning hitting him, Xiang realized
something. He was in a place full of gangsters. Gangsters that would kill innocent women, men and children for
money, respect or even pleasure! But surely his father wasn’t one of them. However, in between horrifying,
wretched nightmares throughout the night, Xiang wondered if his father was a killer. The bloody nightmares were
so perplexing and petrifying that they left Xiang with beads of perspiration pouring down from his hairline and
tears streaming down his face like the burning balls of fire found in hell, the very place that all of the men that he
had seen earlier that day belonged.
Huge, somber thunder clouds met in the dark, dank sky above the city of Old Shanghai and released a deafening
rumbling; lightning attempted to scorch the earth with its vivid, blazing bolts and water gushed down from the
heavens above where the gods were sobbing. Miserable and sullen, Qing’s mood suited the weather exactly, for he
had to go out and search for something after a sleepless night. Qing had gone out numerous times in the past week
to ‘search for something’, returning hours later, looking exhausted, to the small, dingy hotel room they were sharing.
Feeling a little bit suspicious, Xiang decided to brave the harrowing weather with its pouring, bucketing rain and
follow Qing to wherever he was going. As Xiang would soon discover, it was a decision that would scar him for the
rest of his life.
Tirelessly sprinting through a maze of narrow alleyways and streets, while the amount of rain falling slowly
decreased, Xiang chased after Qing for what seemed like forever, all the while wondering where they were going.
After Qing stopped running, Xiang took in his surroundings. Murky and dingy, the alley smelled and looked the
same - absolutely disgusting. Putrid water had eroded the once decent looking buildings that shielded the cramped
alley from any sunlight. A vile stench of rotting eggs mingled with the scent of human waste in Xiang’s nose. The
eerie silence was interrupted by the occasional scuttle of cockroaches along the filth-ridden concrete ground and
walls. Covered in a cold sweat, Qing paced back and forth and muttered to himself until a woman and a child
arrived, dragged by two huge, vicious looking men. It was Xiang’s mother and Xiang as a young boy.
On her knees and begging for forgiveness, Xiang’s mother was terrified. But through her uncontrollable sobbing,
she managed to scream “run!” to her five year old; immediately a single tear was shed from his huge, dark brown,
almond-shaped eyes as he fled from his mother. Grabbing the sword that hung from his belt, Qing slowly cut every
toe and every finger off of Xiang’s mother’s hands and feet, all the while shouting “did you really think you could
take my son away from me?!” In an instant, Xiang understood everything about his wretched life. The last scream of
Xiang’s mother echoed throughout the alley, but it was louder and longer inside of Xiang’s head. It would haunt
him forever.
Xiang’s eyes fluttered open. He was in a hospital and his grandmother was at the side of his bed. Xiang sputtered the
whole story to his grandmother, who nodded and tears streamed down both of their faces as they embraced each
other in a long, tight hug. Years later when Xiang had a family of his own, he’d often have flashbacks about his awful