Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 383

Battle Hymn of the Magistrate St. Mary's Canossian College, Yu, Serena – 13 “T he governor is here, and he would like to meet you.” “Thank you, Qiao. I will be there in a moment.” I said. I combed my hair, tidied my suit and looked into the mirror. I saw the confident and smart-looking magistrate of Shanghai city. Qiao handed me the stack of paper, the development plan I drafted. One last glance in the mirror, and I was ready to go. The governor would be pleased with my ideas, I was sure. From the window, I saw the modern Shanghai. How I loved its hustle-and-bustle. Time flies, and everything has changed. I was three years old when I lost my parents. I didn’t know how or why they died, in fact, nobody knew. It was a bitter winter morning, and brisk wind was slashing the windows. It was never warm enough in our little hut, and I was shivering from the cold, so mum and dad left for the forest, intended to cut wood for a fire. “Stay still, honey. Don’t cry. We’ll be back soon.” My mother said to me. I chewed my finger and waited for them to return. But they never did. It was my aunt, Yan, who looked after me. Her husband died long time ago, in the civil war. Her four daughters had also died, either because of illness, or hunger. Aunt Yan earned money by doing laundry for the rich. At first, the money was enough for both of us to buy some basic food, and once in a year I would have some pocket money. However, one by one the rich chased Aunt Yan away. “Do not touch my clothes, filthy woman.” The noble woman in silk dresses living in the Chen’s palace said to my aunt one day. “Look at yourself, the dirt on your face, your ragged clothes. You will dirty my silk dresses. Poor people like you have a very tricky mind, and you have probably stolen numerous diamonds on my clothes or you have damaged them on purpose! Go away!” The woman looked nice, with white teeth and glossy red lips, but her heart did not share any of the beau ty of her appearance. Other rich people had said similar things to my aunt, and eventually no one paid her to do laundry. I did not receive pocket money from then on, and I had only two sweet potatoes to eat in a day. Aunt Yan had one. Aunt Yan found a job as a waitress in a high-ranking restaurant, the ‘Grand Shanghai Restaurant’. The wealthy always dined there, with their pretty wives and dozens of servants following.