Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 84

Doe Eyes
Harrow International School Hong Kong, Voelkner, Jaidan - 14
Chaos, it’s utter chaos. It always is this time of day. The sun is sitting at his peak, glaring down at us; his
searing breath sighing down our necks, slinking down our spine. Every once in a while, a rare, moist breeze
blows in from the river, the shrivelled shrubs flapping pitifully in its course. In reality, the wind is minuscule.
Weak. Lasting for around three seconds, if we're lucky. However, to a clump of agitated, sticky, hungry
men, who just want it to be lunch break already, it’s a sweet release from this stifling heat, a false sense of
comfort teasing at our bones before dissipating back into the harsh scrutiny of this merciless summer. A
shudder resonates within my body, a heavy drop of sweat rolling down my neck, formed by the thick sheen
layering my limbs. The latest shipment of wood from the upper reaches of the Yangtze arrived about an
hour ago. It’s all a blur, a flurry of movement; scurrying bodies, colliding into each other, rushing to their
stations, heaving wood over to others, hoisting it into position. It’s an agonizing loop, an endless drill of
work. A gruelling routine? Without a doubt. But it’s all worth it for us, for me.
Another bead of sweat forms, rolling from my scalp down to the top of my eyebrow, threatening to drop. I
lift my arm and wipe off the droplets using my sleeve. Curling over, hands on my knees, sharp breaths
pulling out of my chapped lips, I gaze over. The tension retreats my body, muscles releasing, a sense of
serenity comforting my soul. Another chill passes through my body, but this time it’s one I would welcome
with open arms. It’s like a chain reaction, the warm waves swooping upward, tickling my toes, sweeping
around my abdomen, pumping my heart, sending charged volts to my brain. The persistent grunts, groans
and rushed clanging were more distant now, the thoughts that make my stomach ooze fading away. I look
closer. It's relatively still today, the ripples sweeping forward and delicately lapping at the bank, then gently
retreating back into the masses.
It’s like I’m already there. I can feel the salty wind hitting my face, combing through my hair. Planted on
the deck, I can feel the muscles in my feet work to keep balance on the swaying surface, hear the creaks of
wood. I can feel my head underwater, the chilled water blanketing around me, my long locks floating, with
no restraints. It’s quiet, the noise above only far gurgles. Looking up at the surface, I can see the wrinkles of
sunlight languidly manoeuvring between the waves. I bob up for air, my dripping tunic sticking to my slim
waist, hugging my recently broadened chest. I’m meant to be out there, out on the se-
“Hoi! Li-Zhong! Get back to work! The more you waste time by staring at the river, the longer it will take
us to actually get out there!”
The noise returned, the murmur and banging, streams of sweat rolling down my neck, the heat was back
and it was suffocating.
Zhang-Fei, 17 years old, like me, but he acts like he’s 5. He doesn’t like me, never has. We grew up near
each other, just outside Nanjing. Him and his minions always giving me a hard time. His bulky, burly body,
thick shaggy hair, serpent eyes, the man practically radiates arrogance. And to think I thought I was escaping
him by joining the voyages... I sigh, stalking back to my station. I look up at the structure which will soon
be a 400 feet long boat with 9 masts, 12 sails, and 4 decks. A treasure ship. We are making good progress on
it actually, it’s coming together quicker and better than expected. My stomach bubbles with excitement
every time I think about it. I’m building a Treasure Ship, I’m going to sail on a Treasure Ship!
“Li-Zhong, in your own world slacking off again?” a voice next to me tuts.
I chuckle, already knowing who belongs to the voice. I turn to face him.
“Bai, you make up every excuse under the sun to get off work, you’re the biggest slacker here,” I sneer,
smirking at him.