Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 500

Large Footprints
The Independent Schools Foundation Academy, Zhang, Tatiana - 12
T
he Garden Teahouse, where a few minutes earlier he had been enjoying a bowl of cha, was just a few steps away from
Chen-an when the group of policemen caught up. As the hasty thuds of their footsteps became audible, Chen-an
straightened his suspenders and darted swiftly down the nearest alley. Standing out of their sight, the man pressed his ear
against the grubby concrete walls and listened intently to their blundering search.
A young man inside the teahouse took off his shoes and punched in numbers on the rotary dial. He wore heavy round glasses that
drooped onto his nose, and his hair was combed neatly to the back of his head. Lifting the phone next to his ear, he reported to his
mentor. “Detective Zheng, t-t-here’s no sign of Chen-an. He has seemed to just … disappear.”
The young man named
Yang-yi stuttered nervously while his companions were huddled around the hearth.
Detective Zheng was sitting in his office, filing his papers onto the side of his table. He sunk his signature chop into the red ink
before printing it on the right corner of each document. “Impossible! Yang-yi, I refuse to believe that this is a challenging task for
you.” The middle-aged officer took a sip of his tea and stroked his beard. “ Listen, judging from the overcast sky, rain will fall in
any minute. From the data I have collected, Chen-an is a 6 feet tall man, which means that his feet shouldn’t be small. Keep an eye
on the road and look for large footprints” Detective Zheng’s voice was now booming as he took his cigarette out of his mouth and
released a breath of curling smoke.
“But sir-”, Yang-yi furrowed his eyebrows in worry.
‘Yang-yi, Chen-an is the most notorious and cunning criminal in town. Citizens are eternally complaining about him. It is our
priority to catch and lock him up.” Detective Zheng bellowed in return, before slamming the phone on the table.
Sweat trickled down Yang-yi’s forehead when he heard the anger in his mentor’s voice. “Yes sir-” The line was cut. Yang-yi
immediately stared up into the gloomy sky. Rain was threatening to fall and a strike of lightning shot ominously from the sky.
Behind the walls was still Chen-an, a smirk plastered on his face while muttering some curses about interfering officers. When he
sensed the rain about to arrive, the criminal slipped on his suit and oozed gel onto his hair. He took his time to walk out of the alley,