Fiction: Group 3
The New Tales of The Pearl River Delta
ISF Academy Secondary Division, Tang, Lauren - 11, Fiction: Group 3
y eyelids opened directly at my fishing rod, what a beauty! I got up tired from my old torn up,
mattress; the air was intoxicated with the smell of fresh fish, which came from the direction of
the hot fire where Ba-Ba was. It was a Sunday morning bright, beginning of a breezy orange
autumn in 1850. Ba-Ba and I always sit by the Pearl River Delta fishing, waiting patiently like a tortoise in
the story of ‘Hare and the Tortoise’. Suddenly the door creaked open and a figure stepped out of its shadow.
“Mei! Jin tian yao qu diao yu!” Ba-Ba reminded me, that we were going fishing that day.
“Okay, Ba-Ba,” I replied softly, sounding like those birds twitter in the morning.
I stepped out of the bedroom door gracefully, checking that my neat black locks are still in place. I
grabbed my fishing rod, like it was a bow rushing out to go hunting for hares. Ba-Ba and I always lived this
way ever since Ma-Ma died from pneumonia; we do our best to survive the poor life of fishermen.
I skipped to my beloved father, “What’s for breakfast today, Ba-Ba?” I asked politely as I can, to
please him.
I think he noticed the great big smile on my face, “Red Snapper”. As we sat down on the long log
with a THUMP! My breakfast flew up into the air, and I started running wildly, and then bumped violently
into a boy about my age wearing a green shirt and blue thin pants, realizing it’s my best friend Kong-Xiu,
with the fish splattered on his head.
“Nice way of saying Zao Shang Hao (
Good Morning)
, Mei” he smirked while putting my tasty
cooked fish back on my plate.
“Sorry, Kong-Xiu” I swept off the dirt on my skirt, and went off with Kong-Xiu back to Ba-Ba.
After our delicious breakfast, we waved bye to Kong-Xiu, grabbed our fishing rods and headed off
to the river. When we sat down at the river, Papa took one look at the river, and I had no idea what he was
looking at, we stared wandering what it was. Was it another ship stocking fishes? Was it a white dolphin
hopping up and down? I saw in the distance something huge and white coming closer, so I started to worry.
“Ba-Ba? What is that?” I asked in a confused way.
“Mei, my princess, its our customers”, Ba-Ba continued to stare at the river looking in excitement,
but in a serious way.
We continued to fish at the same spot like every other Sunday, the moment I happily raised my
fishing rod, the huge white thing was a ship with the word written on the side ‘Henderson 44’ docked at
the pier. Who would name their ship that? Apparently in China, people say if something has more 4s than it
will be unlucky. As the ship stopped, a British man stomped out of the boat; he was wearing a black fitted
waistcoat, arm by arm with a lady who wore an elegant long short-sleeve dress.
I didn’t know what my father was thinking, he greeted the British with a hello, and they began to
start talking about opium. In the early to late 1800’s the British travelled into the Pearl River Delta
importing a drug called Opium, selling them to the Chinese in Canton. Ba-Ba called me over to introduce
them to me; I gave them the cold shoulder. I had a bad feeling about them coming over to China, I don’t
even know why.
“Mei, this is Thomas Henderson the captain of this boat and his wife Margret Henderson”, He
introduced me to them.
“Please to meet you!” Thomas shook hands with me, but I quickly took my hand away. Ba-Ba’s
face changed to embarrassment.
As the days passed by, the Chinese haven’t been making as much money, the business for people
overall has been slow ever since the British arrived. Then one day, Kong-Xiu ran to my house looking very
worried, but what was wrong?
“Mei! My father! opium!!” He panted, while trying to breathe normally.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. He was so worried I invited him to have green tea at our house.
“Now Kong-Xiu, tell me what’s wrong?” I asked looking puzzled.
“Do you know the ship that is named ‘Henderson 44’?” Kong-Xiu was biting fingernails (He has a
habit of doing that). I nodded.
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