Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 242

By-Gone Shanghai Marymount Secondary School, Tam, Wei Zhuang Samantha - 13 “T ake a seat on the wooden chair, and I will brew you a steaming hot cup of Jasmine Tea. And whilst we enjoy the tea, let me tell you a story from Old Shanghai.” 1919, French Concession, The Bund “Get out, woman,” an Indian security guard sneered at a woman, who was with a three-year-old, “You are not allowed here.” The woman quickly spurted out a string of apologies, dragging her son away hurriedly from the Public Garden. “Where are we going Mama?” the three-year-old tiny tot raised his head up to look at his mother, toddling besides the woman in her forties. They were both in rags, their face painted with ashes. The woman looked at the boy with much love, sighing, “We are going there, Fai.” “What do you mean by there?” Fai asked, clutching the woman’s hand. “Right there,” the woman pointed towards the area, where the well-off foreigners lived. “It seems like a beautiful place,” the boy said dreamily. The woman chuckled. “It sure is, sonny.” The pair walked silently then. The woman knew exactly what they were going to do – to beg for money, or for food. They had not eaten properly for a week, only having small bites of a stale bun bought a week ago. The woman knew this wasn’t going to last long enough. She didn’t want her beloved son to starve. “Come on sonny,” she said after finding a spot they could stay. “Let’s sit down here.” Obediently, Fai sat next to his mother, snuggling close to her. They sat in silence, the boy unaware of the situation while the mother was desperately waiting for someone to drop by a penny or two. Having been a scorching day, Droplets of sweat dropped off Fai’s tiny face. “It’s so hot, Mama,” he nudged his mother. The woman quickly shushed her son, pulling a worn-out rag to wipe his face. Many suited foreigners walked by, throwing glances at the beggars along the road. Their glances were spiteful and arrogant and no one stopped to give them anything. Finally, after what seemed to be hours of waiting, a blond man walked by, dropping a penny in front of the two. “Thank you so much,” the woman said, nudging her already dozing off son, “say thank you to the nice man, son.” Fai looked up, mumbling a sleepy thank you. The man gave them a slight nodand left. “I am hungry and tired, Mama,” he told his mother softly.