Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 462

The New Tales of Old Shanghai
The Independent Schools Foundation Academy, Chu, Tongfei - 12
S
oft wind rustled outside on the streets. My name is Xiao Mi, and I am 78 years old, but I dye my hair so I look like
I am still very young because I like being young. I have wrinkles on my face and hands, and I wear sunglasses to
protect my eyes. I live on the gloomy street called Rich Street, which is weird because I am a poor man. I live in a
bungalow. There is a number 57 over our wooden door and a steel window near it so burglars can’t come in.
My family is currently sitting outside on the pavement and making the most annoying sounds you can ever think of. I am
currently reading a book called wo de shi jie, but my wife just keeps on bothering me by trying to brush my shoe. My clothes are
hanging right above my house and is drying. My son and I go to oriental pearl tower (Whi ch looks exactly like the CN tower in
Canada) to collect the delicious lip smacking, soft taste of the Dumplings. Otherwise, called “Xiao Long Bao”, the delicate hot skin
and the oily shrimps wrapped inside… Sorry, I’m not trying to make you hungry.
Every day, after I eat breakfast, I would usually be working in a drum factory, but I got fired by my awful and ungrateful
boss. Now, I work in a doll factory, and I promise you, it is not a good experience. Those dolls we are instructed to make are scary,
their eyes are wide open and stare at you every night. Every time, I make a new doll, I have to close my eyes and squint at it so I
won’t get scared by the “little harmless doll.” Today is special, I get a day off because today is China national day. I feel so hao. It is
very hao to have a day off, because the boss treats me bu hao and harshly. That is why we are relaxing outside on the pavement in
the sun.
Sadly, the peace and the relaxation didn’t last for long. My son got hyperthermia the day after. He was tired and exhausted,
and felt cold and hot the same time. I don’t have enough money to buy all these kinds of medicine for my son. The only way to
cure him, is probably to go to the public town hospital, which is miles away from my small bungalow, and I don’t have any
transportation at all, so the only solution is to carry my son. Soon, I grew tired. Every step feels like being tangled in the vine and
mud. Although there is still light, it feels like it has been hours carrying him up and down the paved streets of Shanghai. Soon, I
collapsed onto the icy, hard floor. Now, I feel very bu hao and I want food.
Fortunately, my son still had enough energy to support his own body. Now it is his turn to carry me to the hospital. It
wasn’t far away now. I can see the dim lights of the residential buildings up ahead. The town hospital was a huge, place. Living in
it must be very creepy because of all the empty space in the top of the roof. The small cracks on the roof display an old and painful
path. The doctors, who are old, back hunched man, sat in a row waiting for people to be cured. The doctors had pale face, a red nose,
and are all wearing white robes. The grumpy look on their faces didn’t make me feel any better. My son dragged me onto the
nearest bench and dumped me there.
The strange old doctors required money for the medicine, but I don’t have a cent in my pockets. I feel bu hao, because
I traded away my favourite necklaces, which have been first owned by my great great grandfather. It was made of pure gold and a
diamond in the centre. Unwillingly, I traded it away. The doctors have reported my son and I both got Gan Mao. They said I have
to eat a little white pill twice every day. A ripple of worrying look came across my son’s face when I told him that. The doctors fed
my son and I some bitter orange liquid in a small container. That instantly made me feel better.