Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 436

calmed her. Surely I will die of depression before reaching adulthood, she thought to herself. Yet what could she do? He was
her father, so she had to accept whatever treatment she received; there was no hope for her, and crying was useless.
Wiping away her tears, Wenxue sat down on the floor and took out her colour pencils, which she had secretly skipped many
meals in order to buy. She loved designing dresses, and she dreamed of having them made according to her designs. As she
had done for many nights in a row, she designed yet another dress. It had a flawless fusion of traditional Chinese and
Manchurian qipao style, making it elegant and unique. Just as she was adding the final touches, her father barged into her
room.
She froze in shock, unable to utter a single word. Upon seeing the colour pencils and design of the dress, her father was
enraged. “How dare you waste money on colour pencils! You must have stolen money to buy them!” he boomed.
“No, Papa, I used my lunch money! Please don’t punish me!”
Her father’s face turned beet red. “I gave you part of my precious salary just to keep you alive, not for you to waste on stupid
colour pencils! How many times have I told you that I forbid you from drawing!” Wenxue hung her head, pleading silently
for mercy with her eyes.
Completely ignoring her, her father snatched the design of the dress, threw open the window, and let go of the paper. It
swirled in the wind and disappeared in no time. Then he snapped each colour pencil in half, and burned them in the fireplace.
Without looking at Wenxue, he stalked out of the room.
Wenxue cried a river. Tears poured down as she mourned the loss of her precious colour pencils. She remembered the
design of the dress, she could draw it again, but now that she had no more colour pencils, what could she draw with?
Hopelessly, she lay down on her hard bed and cried herself to sleep, convinced that her dreams had been shattered.
Little did she know that her design had not been lost. An old man, who was the owner of a well-known dress-making
company in Shanghai, had been walking on the street at that precise moment, as he spotted a piece of paper on the ground.
Out of curiosity, he picked it up and saw the intricate design of a dress. Amazed by the designer’s talent, he was determined to
find the designer. “Such talent should be nurtured,” he thought.
Judging by the spot he saw the piece of paper on, he deduced that the designer’s home must be nearby. He knocked on every
door, but none of the residents could tell him who might have drawn it. When he came to Wenxue’s house, he hesitated,
because he thought that a poor family could not nurture such a talented designer. Nevertheless, he knocked on the frail,
wooden door, and out came Wenxue’s father.
“What’s the matter, old man?
Don’t bother me with nonsense – I’ve got no patience!”