Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 501

pulling his coat close, and paced his steps. Everyone on the slippery Shanghai streets, it seemed, were scurrying around back to their homes, whereas Chen-an just stretched his arms out, letting raindrops slide down his coat and slither into the small puddle of water below him. Relaxed and confident, he stepped out to his evening destination. As night eventually approached upon the once bustling city, upbeat jazz music blasted out boldly from one of the decadent nightclubs perched among the lanes, with glossy street lamps illuminating the vibrant paradise within. Women dressed in gaudy floor-length gowns welcomed wealthy guests into a land of exuberance and vivacity. Chen-an walked in with a proud gait, dressed formally in his expensive suit, with his silk hat cocked to the side of his head. Linking his arm with the poised lady next to him, who had been gracefully sipping her champagne, he swirled her to the center of the dance floor. Chen-an pulled the lady close to him, making sure to keep an eye on surrounding party guests. A stumbling waiter came passing by, before offering a drink to Chen-an. He took the glass automatically, but as the waiter scuttled away under his menacing gaze, Chen-an was distracted by the spilling yellow bubbly liquid on his suit sleeve. However, closely watching Chen-an’s every move behind him, there was Detective Zheng, who moved hastily to take matters into his own hands. The detective’s right hand reached deep into the criminal’s pocket, retrieving a silver key. It was Chen-an’s key to his own safe; the safe where all his stolen coins and gems were hidden. He stretched out his foot, sending Chen-an and his lady tottering down onto the wooden dance floor. “Aaayaaah !” A shriek came from the lady, piercing everybody’s ears. All heads turned their way as Detective Zheng released a satisfied grunt under his breath. He dangled the key in front of Chen-an, taunting him. Then the trembling Chen-an appeared from behind him, with handcuffs to lock on the criminal’s flailing wrists. Two months later, Detective Zheng was stroking his beard while his eyes wandered around the view outside his police station’s window. Winter had arrived and tiny delicate snowflakes drifted onto the ground. Suddenly, he realized that the usually-heared creaking sounds from Chen-an’s cell had stopped, so the observant officer stood up and decided to check on the strange matter. When he arrived at the cell, Detective Zheng’s mouth gaped open, his jaw dropping. A large hole was drilled through the wall and Chen-an was gone. He was left only with a message on the grimy door surface – in red ink, “Come catch me”. “This will be the last time this happens!” Detective Zheng cried out, but both he and Chen-an knew it wouldn’t be.