Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 410

The New Tales of Old Shanghai
St. Paul's Convent School, Leung, Wing Yan Janice – 14
“R
ub a little faster, would you?” The tall man in the shiny black suit snarled, his face twisted with annoyance.
"Yes, sir," I mumbled. I tried moving my arms a little faster, but immediately regretted it as I winced
at the sharp pain from my side left by the beating yesterday.
The man clicked his tongue, "Forget it." He withdrew his half-polished shoe from the brick and left without paying a
penny.
"Mister, you haven't paid me yet! Please!" I cried out and ran after him.
The Leader’s voice echoed in my ears," You will not get a grain of rice if you come back with less than 10 pennies
tomorrow, you hear me you little rascal?"
"I'm going to go back empty-handed again," I thought to myself. I felt a lump in my throat. Hopeless and freezing, I
sank onto the ground and buried my face in my hands.
A stream of warmth on my shoulder brought me back to reality. I lifted my head a little, and a pair of stitched flowery
shoes entered my vision. I moved my gaze upwards until it met a pair of round eyes.
"Why are you so sad?" a crisp, sing ing voice asked.
"It’s just… I can’t earn enough today," I answered, quickly wiping away my tears with the back of my hand.
She ruffled through her pockets and placed a few dimes in my palm. "That's all I have, it's not much, but I hope it'll
help!" she said in a sincere tone.
My jaw was frozen in place and I couldn't respond.
"Well, it'll get better tomorrow!" She said cheerily with a pat and my shoulder, then turned around and left.
She trotted a few steps before coming to a halt and turning back around. She walked back over to me and removed
her red mittens.
"It's cold today," she handed me the pair of mittens and ran off again.
That's how Peony and I met.
One afternoon, I saw the same pair of stitched flowery shoes again, this time along with a pair of brown leather boots.
The man wearing the boots started talking as I polished his shoe, "Is this him?" He asked the girl. "Yes, master. This is the boy I
was talking about the other day," the singing voice answered.
The man held my chin with gloved fingers and tilted my face left and right. "Yes, he does have a great face for my business. I
like his high cheekbones, which show character," he said as he let go of my face. "Son, where are your parents?" He asked.
"Me? I... I don't have any," I answered.