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Pag. 30

MY FIRST GOOD-BYE

Shortly after the document was signed, my parents called me away from the small group of other students with whom I’d been playing.

“Come with us to say good-bye, Pao-pao,” my mother said. I didn’t understand what she meant; couldn’t we say good-bye right there? But the tone of her voice stopped me from complaining. I walked with her and my father out of the academy, waving good-bye to the students and my new master, and telling I’d back soon.

We returned to the house on the Peak, where my father busied himself with small matters while my mother disappeared into our bedroom.

I took the opportunity to say good-say to the ambassador’s wife and told her I’d be back to visit. She smiled and patted me on the head, and wished me good fortune, promising to give her children a hug for me.

Soon I head my parents calling, and we left the house again for the lower city. My father was carrying a large bag full of clothes and personal belongings, and holding tightly on to my mother’s shoulders.

“How long will you be away, Dad?” I asked him, as we took the winding bus ride down the Peak. He stared out the window of the bus, his face its usual solemn mask.

“Ah Pao, it is possible that I will not see you for a very long time,” he said.

I was too young to really understand the passing of time; did he mean weeks? Months? Years?

My mother took my hands in hers. “Your father is going to work in Australia, across the ocean, so that someday we will be able to give you all the things you like.”

That I understood. It seemed like a pretty fair exchange—my father going away in exchange for nice things.

We took the bus all the way down to the bay, and walked down the harbor past the ferry dock. I gawked at the sleek and enormous ships, the tall stacks of crated goods bound for a hundred countries, and the giant cranes being used to load and unload cargo.

“Ahoy, Chan!” shouted a gruff, strangely accented voice. My father waved at the approaching figure, a big, fat foreigner with a thick blond mustache.

Pag. 31

“This is the man who is arranging for your father’s travel,’ my mother whispered.

“Dad is riding one of those big boats?”

“You father is going to take that boat over there.”

The boat, rocking gently in the stiff breeze, was smaller than giant cargo ships, but larger by far than the Star Ferry, the only boat I’d ever been on. I was suddenly overcome by envy.

“I want to go on a boat too!” I complained.

“Perhaps someday when you’re older, Ah Pao,” my mother said. “Now be good! You must draw a picture of your father in your head so you’ll remember him until the next time you see him.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about my dad, tall, strong, and tough; shaking a knife at me in mock anger as I stole a scrap of food from his kitchen; slumped in exhaustion at the end of the day, his apron stained and his hands raw from scrubbing away the smells of a day’s meals; silhouetted against the pink morning sky, his arms moving fluidly through a series of series of kung fu exercises. I thought about that day we first visited the academy, and the steaming-hot sweet bonus we’d shared together.

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find that they were damp.

My father had finished his conversation with the foreigner and was giving my mother a rough embrace as he whispered into her ear. She nodded into his shoulder and whispered back. Then, releasing her, he came to me and squatted down on his knees.

“Kong sang,” he said, calling me by my given name, “you are a big boy now, big enough to take care of myself. I know you will make us proud.” 

I nodded dumbly.

“I said that the next time I see you, you will have grown into a young man. I won’t have the chance to give you a father’s advice again, so I want you to promise me three things,” he said. “First, you must never join a gang. Second, you must never take drugs. And third, you must never come a gambler.”

Since I didn’t know what any of these things were, the promise was an easy one to make.

“No matter what you become—no matter if life treats you well or poorly—you must keep your word on these three things,” he said. “Then I will know that you are following the right path, and giving your family and your ancestors no reason to be ashamed.”

And with that, he gave me one last quick hug and stood. The big foreigner called his name again, and my father turned and walked up the ship’s gangplank. Two sailors cast the boat’s ropes as the gangplank was raised. The boat drifted away from the dock, toward my father’s fresh start in a strange land. We waved at the ship as the water began to churn white behind it.

Pag. 32

“Remember what I said, Ah Pao!” my father shouted, just before he slipped out of earshot. And then it was time for me and my mother to make our trip across the water, back to the academy and my own new life.

It was late by the time we arrived, and the lengthening shadows gave a creepy to the deserted backstreets. Through some trick of the light, the building that housed the academy suddenly looked forbidding, even frightening, more like a prison than a home.

I swallowed hard, telling myself that I was headed for fun and freedom, and that I really wouldn’t miss my mom and dad that much.

The master welcomed us back and reassured my mother that all would be find. She promised that she would visit me regularly and fussed over me, using the corner of her sleeve to wipe at a smear of dirt on my face. The other students giggled at the sight, bringing a hot flash of embarrassment to my cheeks.

“Don’t worry about me, Mom!” I said impatiently. Finally, she let me go and was escorted to the door by Master.

She turned to look back at me, but I was already deep in conversation with the other kids.

I don’t even remember the last thing she said to me before she left.

But as soon as Master returned from showing my mother out, it was as if something in the air had changed. The students quietly went back to their chores or private practice. The master took my hand and showed me around the academy, pointing out things I might have overlooked: the ancestral shrine, the kitchen, the large, outdoor shower area. We sat at the long table, and Master smoked cigarettes while asking me about my family and my old home on the Peak.

We talked for hours, until late in the night. Then Master, watching a yawn split my face, told me it was time to go to bed. He called out to the other students, who filed into the main hall carrying neatly folded blankets. Then, wishing me a good night, he patted me on the head left the hall for his quarters elsewhere in the academy.

Getting up from the table, I watched as the kids, talking quietly amongst themselves, arranged their blankets around the edge of the practice room.

“We sleep on the ground?” I asked one of the boys I’d played with earlier in the day. He ignored me and flopped down on his stomach, pulling his old blanket around his body. I felt a thump of cloth against my back and turned around. It was my nemesis, Yuen Lung. He’d thrown a roll of fabric at me—a blanket as moth-eaten and worn as the others—and his face wore its customary scowl.

“Quit screwing around, new boy,” he said. “Lights out in ten minutes, unless your ass is too dainty for the floor.”

Pag. 33

I lay down in a corner and spread the blanket out, bending my arm into a pillow for my head. Soon even Yuen Lung had readied himself for sleep, and the oldest of the students, a quiet young man named Yuen Ting, whose official title was “Biggest Brother,” shouted, “Lights out!”

And the room went dark.

As hard as the wooden floor was, it beat the concrete of the rubbish room. I rolled onto my side and quickly fell asleep.

Pag. 34

MY BROTHER, MY ENEMY

The next day, I opened my eyes to find that all of the other students had already awakened. Master and Biggest Brother stood at the front of the room, leading the boys and girls through a grueling set of warm-up exercises. Kicking aside my blanket, I stretched and wandered through the ranks of sweating students, whistling to myself and laughing at their expressions of exertion. Some of them shot dirty glances at me, but I didn’t care; no one was telling me what to do, no one was yelling at me, and for the first time in my life, I was completely free to do whatever I wanted.

Breakfast had already been served, eaten cleared, so I wandered into the kitchen looking for something to much on. It was empty, and all the food locked away in the pantry. That was too bad—I was dying of hunger.

Then I remembered that my mother had, on the walk over from the ferry terminal, bought me a bag of snacks and sweets. It was still sitting in the entry room, along with my small suitcase.

Rummaging quickly through the bag, I found some arranges and a handful of plum candy. I ran back to the practice hall and sat down in one corner, watching the students work while peeling an orange and stuffing segments into my mouth.

After an hour, the master called a short break, and the students broke into smaller groups to talk and catch their wind.

I had finished one of the oranges and set the other aside for later, and was sucking intently on a piece of the dried plum candy when a harsh voice broke my concentration.

“Hey, new boy, where’d you get that food?” It was Yuen Lung, his white shirt damp with perspiration and his face mean. Behind him was his constant sidekick, an equally rough older kid named Yuen Tai.

“My mom gave it to me,” I said, my mouth full of plum.

“What’d you say?” said Yuen Lung, his eyes narrowing.

Yuen Tai stepped forward and stuck his hand in my face. “When you speak to an older student, you’d better call him Big Brother,” he said. “Say it.”

“My mom gave it to me, Big Brother,” I repeated, gritting my tteth.

Pag. 35

“Apologize to your Big Brother,” Yuen Tai said.

“I’m sorry, Big Brother.”

Yuen Lung’s face lit up with a victorious smile. “Yuen Tai, what’s the penalty for disrespecting your elders?”

Yuen Tai thought for a second. “Penalty is no more snacks, Yuen Lung.”

Yuen Lung snatched away my second orange, while Yuen Tai pried open my hand to remove the remaining pieces of plum candy.

“Hey!” I said.

“You got a problem, new boy?” said Yuen Tai, his mouth full of candy.

The space between their two heads was suddenly filled by Master’s stern and questioning face. “Is there a problem here?” he said, an edge in his voice.

“No, Master!” said Yuen Lung, shoving the orange into his pocket, where it bulged like a horrible tumor. Yuen Tai swallowed with difficulty, his eyes crossing, then rattled out a weak “No, Master” of his own.

I grinned to myself. You see, every piece of dried plum candy has a hard pit at its center. In his haste to get rid of the evidence, Yuen Tai had just swallowed four or five pits at once.

“Kong-sang?” said Master, his eyebrow quirked.

“Everything’s fine, Master!” I chirped, folding my hands in my lap. Yuen Lung glared at me and mouthed a curse in my direction.

The two older boys went back to their practice, and I sat humming my mom’s favorite song to myself, watching the, happily until the call for lunch.