Fiction: Group 4
A Tale of Two Cities
St. Joseph's College, Lam, Pater - 16, Fiction: Group 4
‘Let us always meet each other with a smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.’
-
Mother Teresa
Aaron
‘Good evening ladies and gentlemen welcome aboard theWaterJet to Macau, please note
that.…’
female voice whizzes past my ear as I take out the stashed newspaper in my bag to read.
‘
Property prices remain high, citizens longing for a flat in hot water,’
the title reads.
‘God, how can we be able to purchase flats in this situation,’ I murmur.
‘You should see the price of flats in Macau,’ a female voice next to me says.
‘Well, yeah, the prices are even higher in Macau.’ I turn towards her. Her skin is tanned, her
long hair is jet black. Her lips are curled up, giving a sly smile, almost mocking.‘Luckily, they have good
social welfare.’
‘Well, it isn’t of much help. I mean how can five thousand suffice?We local residents barely
scrape by with our low income,’ she shoots back, giving me a stern look.A moment later she smiles
again.‘Anyway, I don’t think I got your name.’
‘Aaron.You?’
‘Linda,’ she replies, stretching out her hand. I clasp my hand on hers and shake it.
‘Hard life living in the Pan River Delta, huh?’ she says.
‘W…well…,’ I stutter, amazed by her light tone.‘Well, yeah, I…I mean the living costs are
pretty high.’
‘Yeah, I figured. Guess that’s the side effect of having rapid economic growth.’
‘Uh huh. Lives of the locals are getting harder and tougher by day.’
‘It’s not like we don’t benefit from it at all. I mean, I do have more people coming over to
buy egg tarts at my shop near the ruins of St. Paul’s Cathedral. But the bloating costs are
just…unbearable.’ She falls silent. I turn my head towards the neighboring window and see waves
splattering outwards, like a flower petal, reflecting sunshine as they fly mid-air.They dazzle for a short
while, then re-combine with the bluish-green sea.
‘So what are you doing in Macau?’ she asks, breaking the veil of silence.
‘Holiday.’ I think for a second.‘Did you just say you run an egg tart shop near the ruins of
St Paul’s Cathedral?’
‘Yes I did.’
‘Would you mind showing me your shop?’
She hesitates for a second, and says,‘Sure.’
Linda
Before we alight Aaron has already told me a lot about himself: he works in a bank in
Hong Kong, he’s single, and he lives in a 400 square-foot flat. Strange how I feel at ease around him, and
strange how he can trust me despite having only a brief acquaintance.
We board a bus together, and I look out the window as the trees and trunks turn into a
blur as the bus moves.
‘This is my stop. See you tomorrow,’ he says, as he takes his bag, and exits the bus. He
disappears into a majestic lobby with gold-lined pillars and statues on either side of the entrance. Next
to the lobby is a pond, where gondolas are parked. It looksVenetian, not even close to what Macau is.
But I guess that’s what people like – luxury instead of local culture. It is hard to believe that this hugeY-
shaped 5-star hotel could be built upon a piece of bare land which held nothing but emptiness.
The next day I go to my shop at 8 am, an hour earlier than usual for Aaron. I told him that
usually at 10 the plaza will be filled with tourists and Mainlanders and he won’t have the chance to
appreciate the ruins.As I look outside the window from within my shop I see a brown, carved wall
A
