Fiction: Group 4
to tune him out in order to review account management in his head, shouts rang out somewhere far away.
Wei-Hai dismissed it as just a few coolies bickering, but the shouts became impossible to ignore, and he
looked up to see a mass of people gathered a few yards in front of him.
Ping had already been there and back and was bursting with news. ‘Hey, Chi-Wo is down. He must have
got heatstroke!’ Wei-Hai dropped his crate and ran to where Chi-Wo had fallen. Chi-Wo’s face was black
as charcoal. Wei-Hai broke out in a cold sweat. Suddenly Death himself had made his presence known
among them in uncertain terms. Chi-Wo looked so small compared to the pier, so insignificant compared
to the harbour stretched out in front of him; his death was so big a loss, so small a sacrifice to Wei-Hai.
Mr Brandon came to the pier flustered, desperately trying to restore some order of normality. The hysterical
Chinese foreman fell down from his platform with a loud thump. A coolie had died right under his nose,
and he had a lot more to lose than his job. The more he frantically tried to excuse himself, the more of his
atrocities came to light and Mr Brandon’s frown was etched even deeper in his face. Wei-Hai said nothing.
On the one hand he gloated over the Chinese foreman’s downfall, but then the innocent face of Chi-Wo
floated into his mind, and he couldn’t help but review on the price of this downfall.
Finally Mr Brandon turned to Wei-Hai.
‘Wei-Hai, this gentleman here is evidently not competent enough for his job anymore. Would you like to
take up his post?’ The Chinese foreman’s face went grey as ash as Wei-Hai’s face lit up. ‘The first task I am
giving you, is to send all those outside back to work.’
Wei-Hai faced his first challenge in his new role. Outside the office block, a group of coolies, led by Ping,
were demanding justice.
Wei-Hai looked at Mr. Brandon. ‘You will… will pay Chi-Wo’s family?’
Mr. Brandon scoffed. ‘My dear boy, I take that you are joking, where have all your accounting lessons gone
to? If we compensate each worker for a scratch we’d be bankrupt!’
Wei-Hai remembered the seafood shop he passed by every night. He remembered the night when he saw
the elderly lady hand out red packets. He remembered the thankful faces of the workers, even though he
also distinctly noticed lesser shark fins hanging from the shelves. He took a deep breath and dove into the
crowd and climbed onto the raised platform, now vacated by the Chinese foreman. He consoled the crowd
with promise of a compensation deal for Chi-Wo’s family and not to repeat the Chinese foreman’s
mistakes, conveniently forgetting to mention where the money would come from.
From that day onwards, Wei-Hai was the new foreman of the Pier, working for Brandon and Co.. Finally,
a time to fulfil his vow. He couldn’t have felt more accomplished as he spent his time sorting out the
perennial problems at the pier. Even the harbour itself seemed glittered a sapphire blue with his efforts.
But the company never gave Wei-Hai enough money to pay for the coolies’ extra hours, and they always
gave him more than enough work. With more money on his hand because of his own pay rise, Wei-Hai
tried to pay the workers back to realise his dream of a better life for all coolies. Sometimes he saw Chi-Wo
smiling at him, and this pushed Wei-Hai forward in his efforts.
Nonetheless the minimal pay rise he received for himself was not enough to cover the overtime that he
doled out from his own pocket. He ended up doling out promises. Promises that couldn’t be fulfilled, that
sunk into the deep harbour and left no trace on the surface, but pierced deep into Wei-Hai’s heart. He
began to feel that the piece of glass between him in his office and the coolies took up more space than the
sapphire blue strip at the far end of the pier which stretched across the harbour towards Kowloon.
That day, after giving out the last of his own wages that he could afford to cover for three coolies’ overtime,
Wei-Hai went home in a dejected state, feeling his empty pockets. There was no money for fish maw,
there wasn’t even money for
char siu
. Out of habit, he slowed down as he passed the dried seafood shop,
