Excerpt From: The Light Along the Water at Victoria Harbor Starts Fading

Victoria Harbor

The water had never seemed so cold.

I stared at the ocean. The light reflecting on the water along Victoria Harbor faded away. I rose, overlooking the deep expanse before me. She’s gone. I could see the whole city, but police lights flashed everywhere, the air full of the smog of sirens. Looking beyond, I saw the lights from the other world, so strange and so familiar. 

Book One

Walking to West Kowloon Station, my mind was restless. Our boys had been protesting for a month already, yet here I was. I was supposed to join them, but I had to pick up my girlfriend, Zoe. Our relationship hung by a thread ever since our political differences wore out our enthusiasm. She came from Guizhou, China, but who knows where that is. All I knew was that her father was a party boss there. Schools would have begun today, but that was shut down by the Party weeks ago. 

Finally, she came out. She had said in Mandarin that she waited for a long time to pass through customs. 

“You know I don’t like to hear or speak Mandarin,” I said. Such a shameful language, a language used by dictators and barbarians.

Zoe shook her head. “After so many years, I still don’t get it why you hate it so much. This is such a fascinating language!” Her argument was always assertive but not persuasive.

So classic Chinese diplomacy. But I remained silent.

“Anyway, we’re not fighting about this today, okay? I have work to do.” I noticed she was carrying a bulky, half-zipped duffel bag. I spotted the Nikon that her father bought for her last year.

I zipped up her bag and slung it over my shoulder. “I’m also busy tonight. I am going to Central after dropping you off at your apartment, so hurry up.” I pointed down the road. 

Zoe stopped. “You’re not joining the protest, are you?” Her eyes revealed the concern, but I didn’t see any anger inside. 

“Yeah, you know what I stand for.”  

“Can you take me with you?” Zoe asked.

“Listen, I know you don’t want me to go, but I’ve made up my mind. If I don’t do this, Hong Kong will be doomed eternally.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just curious about it,” she replied.

We reversed the course for Central station. We encountered groups of people in black, first a trickle, then a wave. They had sprayed paint on surveillance cameras and unfurled umbrellas to avoid recognition. Zoe unzipped her camera and took a few timid shots of the people protesting. After a half-hour of shooting, we cleared an upturned park bench of broken glass and sat down. Zoe took out her computer and started to type something on it. I looked at the screen. “Since when are you a journalist?” I scoffed.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

“At least I know the characters you are typing.” I read her piece more carefully. “Hey, your article is too biased! Are you suggesting that people like your boyfriend are rioters?”

“Aren’t you?” Her phone rang after saying that. She seemed worried after hanging up.