Fiction: Group 4
All of a sudden, a loud splash of water sounded at the far end of the pier. Wei-Hai looked up to see only
the old Englishman left at the edge of the pier, waving his hat madly and shouting in English, which were
then followed by other shouts in Chinese: the younger manager had fallen into the water.
‘Ha! Serves him right. Let him drown! Or at least let him drink his share of sea water!’ Ping showed no
inclination to do anything or to commiserate.
Wei-Hai however, experienced a prescient moment of struggle. On the one hand, his life was too valuable
for someone he hated with a burning passion, but it wasn’t in his bones either to let someone die in front of
him. Despite Ping’s ever more vociferous protests, he ran to the edge and jumped into the water. The
sputtering Englishman was dragged out of the sea, still clutching his handkerchief and struggling to free
himself from Wei-Hai. The other gentleman, though much flustered, noticed Wei-Hai, and gestured for
the Chinese foreman to bring him into the office. No one cared that he was still dripping like a soaked
duckling.
‘So… you’re Wei-Hai, aren’t you?’ boomed the elderly gentleman in the top hat.
‘Yes. Me, Wei-Hai.’ He stuttered in halting English.
‘Someone fetch us a translator.’ The Englishman told the Chinese foreman.
‘No, ah… me know Eng… English.’
‘Oh, I like the lad’s attitude. Well, all you Chinese care about is money, don’t you, young man? How much
do you think I should pay you for saving my nephew? ’
What was this about? The Englishman was speaking too fast for poor Wei-Hai to catch up.
Meanwhile, the Chinese foreman patronisingly translated for him. ‘Mr Brandon’s asking you what you want
in return. Just write down the amount here.’
Wei-Hai ignored him and spoke directly to the Englishman. ‘You teach me… buy sale.’
‘Mr Brandon, I think he means that…’ The Chinese foreman attempted to explain.
‘I understand what he means, sir! I wonder how different you and that boy can be. Fancy a bet on how long
this attitude of his would last?’
Wei-Hai opened his mouth again. ‘I want “buy sale”’,”
‘Yes, yes, you shall get what you want, nothing too much, really. But first, you’ll need to polish your
English a bit, before we get you into this uh, “buy sale” business.’
In the following days, Wei-Hai discovered that the wind at the Queen’s Pier no longer felt oppressing, but
every tepid breeze was a splash of spring water on his face. He continued to work as a coolie in the
morning, but in the evening, he studied English and Accounting, subsidised by Mr Brandon. Wei-Hai felt
like the gap between him and his dream of being a foreman had turned from the Pearl River into just the
Victoria Harbour.
The Chinese foreman, however, became consumed with jealousy, and brooding on that platform of his, he
thought of all kinds of punishment he could inflict upon Wei-Hai to make up for it. Longer working hours,
he decided, was the best treatment during which he could berate Wei-Hai for the most miniscule of
problems. But Wei-Hai continued to have the summer breeze on his side.
As the winds of the harbour passed by, so did the frost. The scorching sun lashed out at the coolies again,
and Ping was muttering about how he wished the foreman would evaporate in the heat. As Wei-Hai tried
