Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 325

“I am going to the warehouse to find Kai.” I say to Kai’s granny.
“Good! I have been worried sick. Can you also bring some fried rice cakes to the soldiers? They must be starving.”
“That is a great idea!” Soon, the small kitchen is bustling with the preparation of the rice cakes. Once Kai’s granny bakes
800 cakes, I pack them on a large trolley and roll it towards the warehouse.
As I approach close to the Lese Bridge, I see British sentries guarding the International Settlement side. I sneak up
towards the bunker. As the sentries look over to the battle side, I slip past them and onto the bridge. When the barrage
dies down, I rush across to the warehouse.
I creep along the dark hall and find a roomful of soldiers. Some are boarding up empty windows, others are bolstering
blockers, and more are lying wounded on the floor.
While I am scanning to find Kai, a middle-aged military officer comes up to me. In dirty but trimmed Chinese Army
uniform, he stands as straight as a warehouse pillar.
“You are British General Telfer-Smollett’s son, if I am not mistaken. I am Commander Xie. What are you doing here?”
he asks, straight-faced.
“I thought you’d be hungry. I brought rice cakes to you.” I reply cheerfully and open the trolley. Immediately the scent
of sweet rice fills the warehouse.
The soldiers’ weary eyes travel to the rice cakes, and their eyes light with hope. I pass them the fried rice cakes. Not until
every soldier has gobbled the cakes down does a young soldier around my age carefully wrap his rice cake up and put it
into his pocket.
The young soldier totes a rifle as tall as him. Under his flopped helmet, layers of bloodstained bandages wrap his head
and cover his eyes. He looks exhausted, but resolute.
He is Kai.