Chapter Text
"Again?" flashed through He Xuan's half-conscious mind. He felt as if he were being rocked and lifted, like on gentle waves among a hundred fishing boats pressed side to side in the waters of Qingyi Mun Strait. His eyes had to open once the familiar - and hated - sickly urge rose in his throat. For a few seconds, the white rectangle of the ceiling with its hairline cracks wavered before him. He'd promised to patch those cracks ages ago, but never got around to it. His brain flicked through memories of leaning over the side of a boat, retching. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a deep breath. No relief.
The metal springs of the bed creaked monotonously beneath him, nearly sagging to the floor. He Xuan would have been glad to wake like everyone else — sweaty from the stifling summer heat around eight a.m. But his three-year-old sister habitually used his bed as a trampoline. And today was no exception. Summoning all his strength, he groaned through clenched teeth:
"Five in the morning, for crying out loud…" The words dissolved into a mournful whimper. "Why aren't you asleep, you little imp?" He slapped a hand over his face so the sun couldn't drag him fully out of sleep. "You're lucky I love you, otherwise you'd already be face-first on the floor." No reaction. On her next jump, He Xuan finally sat up in defeat, grabbed the little girl into a bear hug, and fell back onto the pillow.
"Let go!" she squawked, wriggling under the weight of his arm. At moments like this, she reminded him of a freshly caught slippery eel he laid out on the market stall every morning. She twisted and slapped at any part of him she could reach.
"No. Sleep," He Xuan said flatly. Wasting the last free hours before work on pointless bickering was not part of his plans.
"Don't want to!"
"I do. Either you lie here quietly or go bother someone else."
After a few failed escape attempts, she finally gave up.
"I'm leaving. You smell bad. And..."
"Go." She quickly slid off the bed, turned back, and stuck out her tongue. He Xuan stuck his hand out in return.
When he first heard he would have a younger sibling, his whole chest tightened. At first, he thought it was a cruel joke to cheer him up after another exhausting day. All the talk about "being the older brother," "responsibility," and "duty" grated on him. As if the best years of his youth hadn't already gone to hell. The thought of sleepless nights and even more household chaos immediately appeared in his mind.
When the walls of their tiny flat actually did fill with endless baby cries, and his one lifeline - a one-eyed rascal - ran off to live next door and refused to take him along, He Xuan stubbornly told himself he'd find a compromise to please everyone. Or at least get a job that kept him out all day to avoid drowning in diapers. But even his stone heart melted the first time a tiny hand gripped his finger and a pair of bright eyes blinked up at him while the little one said his name for the first time. And now her ability to boss him around and get away with anything just by pulling a sad face was almost impressive.
He Xuan was finally jolted awake by the familiar, scratchy radio announcer's voice wafting through the open window like a warped record:
"Six a.m., this is Radio Hong Kong. Wake up with the city. The first boats have already gone out to the strait. News, music, and good vibes are coming up this beautiful summer morning."
Part of the broadcast was drowned out by the rumble of construction, the loud chatter of old men, and children yelling in the street. Then, faintly, the static-filled radio delivered more broken phrases:
"... could mean an increase in the flow of refugees and a threat to economic stability if such ideas start spreading in local workers' organizations… experts advise closely monitoring… trends… absence… censorship… private property…"
"How does everyone have so much energy all the time?" He Xuan clutched his pillow like a life preserver, buried his face, squeezed hard, and bit into the soft fabric.
Above him, his father and the usual card-game crew had gathered on the roof of their old tong lau right above their flat. They cranked the volume to max before lighting the first morning cigarette and dealing the cards.
"Up, you lazybones! You'll sleep your whole life away!" his father's cheerful shout was punctuated by his cane tapping on the concrete roof. "Xuan! Hear me?!"
"Hard not to, Dad!"
Still groggy, He Xuan sat on the edge of the bed and fumbled for his glasses, perching them clumsily on his nose so he could finally see something besides fuzzy shapes. The calendar showed the number ten, printed in a cheap green ink. His gaze settled on the cluttered desk with yellowed books and scribbled notebooks. He inhaled the stuffy air deeply through his open mouth. He'd stayed up past midnight again. English was still much harder for him than Japanese, though Xie Lian had done the impossible — teaching him not just to read but to understand and speak the damned language.
Fragments of the entrance interview surfaced in his mind. With the kind of "luck" he'd had all his life, the gut feeling whispering "failure" crept back. He had nearly resigned himself to the idea that studying in the engineering faculty wasn't in the cards for him. All those sleepless nights with thick textbooks and formula memorization for nothing. And yesterday's swarming applicants hadn't boosted his optimism. From overheard smoking-area chatter, there were at least five candidates per spot. The only thing he had to counter his doubts was Xie Lian's words, backed by Hua Cheng's nods, insisting that experience and a pair of skilled hands would get him through.
"Stop yawning already." A towel landed on his shoulder before he could react. "Go shower. Soon, there'll be such a line that you'll eat on the run again and be late for work. And you know how bad that is for you. I told you not to stay up so late. You can't cram more into your head than it can hold." In her usual manner, his mother scolded him while handing him a nearly translucent piece of soap. Barely enough for one more lather before it dissolved in the warm water.
Faint light streamed through the open door and the tiny fogged-up window of the shared bathroom. Puddles left by careless neighbors glistened on the floor. Each step made a wet squelch under his worn-out slippers that threatened to slip right off.
He Xuan leaned over the scratched mirror, studying his reflection as he dragged a razor across his foam-covered skin. The result: a scattering of tiny nicks on his chin.
"Well, if it isn't our eligible bachelor!" came the cheery cry of one of the old neighbor ladies filling her basin for laundry. "If I were forty years younger! Girls these days don't know what they're missing."
He Xuan tried to twist his grimace (caused by the sting of aftershave ) into something resembling a smile. He stepped back, lifted his shirt, and examined himself critically in the mirror. Bony, hollow-cheeked, pale as a sun-bleached mushroom, his messy black hair sticking up in all directions. He pinched the skin on his ribs and pulled. The dim light only emphasized his gauntness, making him look like a walking skeleton. Strange that this scrawny body still survived all the drunken street fights he got into.
"They're waiting just for you, skeleton-boy." He Xuan nearly jumped when he saw Hua Cheng's reflection in the mirror. The older man stood in the doorway cracking longans like sunflower seeds and tossing them into his mouth. "By the time you finish admiring yourself, everything will be cold. Oh, Madam Ma! Good morning!"
"What a lovely morning!" the woman smiled, finally tottering off.
"Should've guessed you'd already be here. Five more minutes, all right?" He Xuan said calmly, pulling on his dark work pants. Any hope for a few minutes alone was gone. "Anything else you want to say?"
He turned away, ignoring Hua Cheng's single-eyed stare, narrowed in suspicious amusement like a cat about to pounce on a helpless mouse.
Living under the same roof with this scoundrel still hadn't taught He Xuan a thing.
"What?" He Xuan had hoped to dodge the inevitable embrace, but Hua Cheng's arm locked around his neck, dragging him against his chest. His cheek slid over the soft silk of a freshly laundered shirt before being pressed painfully against the metal buckle of a belt, turning his face nearly as red as the fabric.
"You've got dirt on your lip." Hua Cheng fancied himself a comedian and couldn't resist mocking his friend's sparse mustache. He even wet his thumb and made a show of trying to "wipe it off."
"Get off me, idiot! And take your sticky hands with you. Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Someone's touchy. I care about you, you grump. You're unpleasant enough. That scruff makes you look like a cockroach. A Japanese one. I doubt a single girl in Hong Kong'd want a piece of that."
"Did I ask for your opinion?" He Xuan muttered through his teeth. He'd long ago learned the only argument that worked on Hua Cheng was a solid punch somewhere near the liver. Otherwise, the guy could argue so persuasively you'd start doubting your sanity. The trouble was that Hua Cheng could hit back if you didn't dodge fast enough.
"You ungrateful brat."
It had been years since their mornings began with a proper fistfight. Maybe eight. Now, sprawled on the damp floor of the cramped room, they pounded at each other more to blow off steam than to do real harm. The scuffle ended with a well-placed kick to He Xuan's rear and a worn work shirt tossed into his face.
"Are you two coming or not?" called Madam He from outside.
"On our way!" Hua Cheng sang out, giving He Xuan a mocking shove toward the door.
Despite the constant bickering, Hua Cheng was more than just a friend. He was the older brother He Xuan never had. He'd never admitted it aloud, but he was deeply grateful to his mother for her soft heart for not turning away from the homeless boy everyone else had shunned for superstitious reasons. He never pried for all the details or thought he needed them. It was enough that, despite everything, the older one never refused help or advice. Though his brazenness and shamelessness, which others called "charisma," often made He Xuan foam at the mouth in frustration.
The old wooden chairs groaned as they both sat back. The tabletop - scarred with childish knife carvings for which their father had once whipped them - now held elegant porcelain bowls of oranges, apples, wampee, and …
"I want a coconut candy!" His sister leapt onto his lap, nearly upsetting the fruit, and reached for a rectangular red-and-green tin that hadn't been there that morning. Another gift from Hua Cheng, who never missed a chance to spoil her.
"Breakfast first."
"Don't want to!"
"There's a lot I don't want to do either, but look … I'm doing it. And don't look at the one-eyed one. He won't save you."
Hua Cheng smiled faintly, a hint of apology flickering as he shrugged.
"Got plans tonight?" he asked suddenly, looking away toward the tin. Its surface depicted a delicate painted scene: a traditional Chinese garden, two women in flowing hanfu, a grand riverside pavilion.
"Unless a carp flops on me and kills me, no," He Xuan grunted like a tired old man as he tried to keep his sister still. His stomach growled at the smell of rice porridge and fried chicken wafting through the air. "Why?"
"Tough week. I want a drink." Hua Cheng slouched back, legs spread, staring at the ceiling. "Gege has some kind of meeting. Again. And me? I don't feel like sitting home alone after work." He finally opened the tin and unceremoniously dumped the candies in with the fruit. "Most expensive ashtray I've ever bought," he muttered, pulling out a cigarette. Despite his love for imported goods, he smoked only local brands.
"So that's why we haven't seen you in days. Got yourself a new permanent job? Where?"
"Wu Chung. "
"That's probably the most legal thing you've ever done."
"Careful — you're getting bold." Hua Cheng had barely raised a fist under He Xuan's nose when Madam He came in with food.
Fresh from the steamer, on bamboo stands waited a dozen delicate cloud-like dim sum - thin-skinned, stuffed with vegetables and tofu - along with a bowl of rice porridge, marinated eggs, chopped ginger, greens, and glazed chicken pieces.
"Thank you. Smells amazing, as always," Hua Cheng said at once, taking the cigarette from his mouth before touching the food.
"You're welcome, dear," she smiled, and he leaned in like a cat for a quick kiss. "Take some food home with you?"
"Gladly."
"Good. And how's Xie Lian? Where is he anyway? He hasn't come by for tea in ages. Or has he found himself a girl and forgotten old folks like me? Well, you should enjoy life while young. Later, you won't have the time. Work, kids, chores. Everyday life eats you up. We should also find a girl for Xuan before he turns into a bookworm. You can't sweep him out of the house with a broom."
He Xuan glanced sympathetically at Hua Cheng, who immediately grew uncomfortable and busied himself rearranging pieces of meat on his plate.
"Mom, I told you, Xie Lian was away on business."
"Right, right. Slipped my mind."
"And enough about girls."
"Fine, fine. But don't complain later when all the good ones are taken."
"I'll survive."
"Who did you inherit that stubbornness from?"
"No idea. Maybe I took a bit from you and a bit from Dad. Maybe borrowed some from Granddad, too."
Silence fell over the room. Only the clack of chopsticks, the clock ticking, and the kettle's hiss filled the air.
Though curiosity gnawed at him, He Xuan held back the urge to ask Hua Cheng the questions he wasn't ready to answer. If he wanted to tell him, he would. And if he ever did, He Xuan would probably want to sew his mouth shut.
He'd only broken that restraint once - the night they all went out drinking and, when everyone but him and Xie Lian went for a smoke, he blurted: "What does a decent, kind, educated guy like you even see in that scoundrel?" He got quiet laughter and a few understanding words, finding good even in flaws, and fate is something you build with your hands. He hadn't really understood at the time.
Strange that no one else seemed to notice the sparkle in their eyes, the too-wide smiles, the bold compliments, the way they flatly refused dates with women. But who was he to judge if the idiot was happy?
"Speaking of Xie Lian. I almost forgot. I've got a little surprise for you. He wanted to bring it himself, but he's too busy," Hua Cheng said, pulling something from his battered briefcase. "Here."
He Xuan glanced at his friend's eye, trying to decide whether to worry about what was in the envelope. Xie Lian wasn't one for cruel jokes but who knew what living under the same roof with this snake had done to him.
"What? You scared of a piece of paper? It won't bite."
"Fine," he grumbled, swallowing the food in his mouth. Wiping his hands and face with the nearest towel, he finally took the "gift." "Ge didn't need to spend money on a postcard…" he began, then froze as soon as he recognized the stamp. He'd expected something from the United Kingdom, but not…
"No way."
"I'm just the messenger." Hua Cheng shrugged innocently. "Those bureaucratic rats didn't want to waste money on official postage once they saw Gege lives next door. He would drop it in your mailbox, but I wanted to hand it to you myself."
He Xuan turned the paper over in sweaty hands several times, studying it, too nervous to open it.
"Stop stalling. Open it. Read it out loud," Hua Cheng said, of course, not about to miss the chance to watch him squirm. "Or I'll do it for you!"
"In your dreams." Xuan held his breath, tore open the flap, and pulled out the letter. The first line made him break out in a sweat: "We are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to the Hong Kong Institute of Techn..."
"I got in?" he croaked.
"Of course, you got in. And that's one more reason to celebrate tonight."