Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 80

21st February, 1408
Grandpa left me.
He’s gone.
I was preparing dinner when I heard Captain Wang exclaim, “Ah Hai, your Grandpa... he’s dying! Stroke!”
I ran towards Grandpa’s cabin. There he was, lying on the bed- his face white as ghost, his eyes rolled in
their sockets - writhing in agony.
“Grandpa,” I whispered, my voice fading. Please god, save Grandpa. He’s all I have left. Please! “Doctor, do
something! Save him!” I heard myself pleading, almost screaming, in the torrents of fear, rage and grief. The
doctor had a blank look on his face. “I’m afraid your Grandpa doesn’t have long.”
“Ah Hai,” Grandpa rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper- hard, pained, and fragile all at once.
“Listen. We both know that you are different, but that doesn’t make you any less. Acknowledge who you
are. Embrace your differences. Treasure your Chineseness. I am proud of you...”
I saw Grandpa take his last breath of life, as I felt mine dissever from my heart and soul.
___
22nd February, 1408
The fog was a ghost. Grandpa’s ghost. I held Grandpa’s urn of ashes. The breeze sighed. I took a deep
breath, and slowly tipped Grandpa’s ashes into the deep bottomless sea. Grandpa would have wanted to be
part of the sea. Rivers of tears rolled down my face as the last of his ashes vanished into the majestic waves.
My heart has surrendered into darkness.
***
There was an air of determined conspiracy in the common room. I heard a gradual crescendo of excitement
and scornful laugh, as I dragged my lifeless body back to the cabin. The word “Guai” 鬼 was written on my
door. One big red character. It filled me with shame, pulling my head down like a heavy weight. I tore the
paper into a million tiny pieces, not unlike my heart. Fate was unfeeling.
___
2nd January, 1409
The day had come.
We were anchoring to the shore of Malabar Coast.
Admiral Zheng announced to everyone that whoever can speak foreign languages would assist to do the
offerings at the investiture of the new King of Calicut. With reluctance, Captain Wang passed me a gold-
plated box, filled with gold brocades, jade bangles, and many wondrous others.
I was led to the Royal Palace. “Welcome to India.” The Indian generals smiled at me, eyes wide open,
astounded by the extravagance of our offerings.
There I met General Rawat - with whom I was asked to take on a tour to Yongle 333. General Rawat is in
his fifties. He has hair grey with age, and a stern but not unkindly look, with all the strength and stamina
evident from the lines on his forehead. I showed him our ship- the anchors, the kitchen, and even my
favourite hideouts from Captain Wang!
General Rawat likes me, I can tell.
___