Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 123

I pushed my way through the crowd in the market of the British Concession, which was mainly filled with
merchants surrounded by the desolate who are in need of opiate, ignoring the whimpering of the addicted and the
shouts of the sellers: “Only silver is accepted!” “2 pieces of silver for a box of opium! Extra 3 pieces for taking a
whiff now!” “Hey you, over there, keep your filthy hands off my stock!”
Finally escaping the horde of people, I left the marketplace and the smell of burning opium behind, and set off
in the direction of the Old City. As I passed by the British and French buildings, I noticed a couple of foreigners
staring at me with curiosity. I sighed; they probably haven’t gotten over the fact that we Chinese are now allowed
into the Concessions. The sun was setting, casting a warm yellow glow; the sky could go dark in a matter of
minutes, for it was the winter solstice.
Reaching the gates of the walls, I bowed to the guard, who opened the heavy doors for me.
The world within the walls was completely different from the one outside: the Old City is comparatively more
disorganised and dilapidated than the newly-built Concessions. Broken down houses dotted the landscape of the
City, while the streets were worn out from centuries of walking; with the recent inflow of refugees from northern
China, more and more temporary accommodation littered the alleyways. This meant more people to feed.
Yet there is something we have that the outer world doesn’t: family.
Families have lived within these walls for centuries; children have grown up, met their other halves, built their
own family, and lived out their lives in here.
“Lee!” My wife’s voice shook me out of my reverie. She was running out of our small family house, carrying
our baby in her arms. I hugged her tightly.
My gaze fell upon the crowd at the City notice wall.
“What’s that?” I broke away from our embrace.
That’s when I noticed the tear streaks in my wife’s face. “Don’t go,” she pleaded me. “Please, for the sake of
our family, don’t go.”
I stumbled backwards, my heart pounding. My wife began to cry earnestly.
I broke into a sprint, my head spinning. My house disappeared behind me.
I had an inkling of what this might be. God, they’ve been talking about it all year… I should have at least
prepared for it… Though what is happening now might not be what I fear…
I reached the wall, fighting among the crowd to read the words pinned onto the stone. In a split second, my
world collapsed.
It was exactly as I feared.
My eyes flew over the words “war”, “England” and “conscription”, my heart growing heavier by the second.
“Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made in order for advancement,” the proclamation read.
The Second Opium War has started.
~***~
2006: A New Legacy
I lightly brushed my hand across the cold stone walls of the Old City of Shanghai, the dust falling apart at my
fingertips, as if the wall was crying along with me over its loss.