Fiction: Group 4
business. It thrilled my brother, sister and I since we were itching for an adventure after the long journey we
had.
That year however, we struggled, we could not make enough silk goods to sell in time. We were running
out of options, we tried everything from increasing the price and working longer hours to make things to
sell, but to no avail. Brother had to leave and work in the docks to help us out with expenses. To make
things worse father was getting ill and we could not afford to go find a doctor. Times were tough, but
somehow we got through. My youngest Sister started making little woven bags and filled them with rice
and wrote blessings on them and touted them at the market, we did anything we could to survive.
In time, father passed on and our family split up. Brother worked on the ships carrying cargo to many exotic
places. My Sister and I worked in the markets, buying and selling different goods, we still kept up our sale of
silk, but the quality was not as fine as the silk we made in our village. We got restless, business was sufficient
but we wanted more, we wanted to be able to provide for our families instead of simply getting by. Shen
Zhen was not the place for us, but we had no ties left in our village in Pan Yu, not to mention that the
journey would be a long and expensive one.
As fate would have it, I met a young man surnamed Zhen and we became close, he told me stories of a
place called Hong Kong, there was foreign trade there, I wondered if they were the same foreign men that I
had seen in my days as a child during the booming period of the silk trade. I was apprehensive; I did not
want to be fooled by those foreigners again. But even with my reluctance to deal and trade with foreigners I
knew that going to Hong Kong would be the best option for us, it was close and there were opportunities
to improve our lives…what more could I have asked for? He offered to take me there, and I jumped at the
chance and asked Sister that night.
I wrote a long letter to Brother telling him of our plans, Sister was excited and helped pack our things for
the move. The journey was magical, the sun would rise, the heat would dance along our skin and the wind
would play with our hair. The hours merged together as we inched closer and closer past each hill,
mountain and river. The young man and I talked about Hong Kong, I was intrigued by the fact that the
people there were both western and native. I shared about how I came from Pan Yu and had met the
foreign men before, and how the decline of trade along the Silk Road almost led us to ruin, and how then
we moved to Shen Zhen, he shared great tales of the Pearl River Delta, and numerous of thieves along the
Silk Road, and of traders bartering with merchants much to my amusement.
Soon we saw Hong Kong, a bustling fishing village, with plenty of foreigners, all of whom were very
fascinated by the hand woven silk bags, dresses and scarves Sister and I had made, of course I couldn’t have
ignored the fact that they were our main source of income so I had to be polite and learn the language. Our
reputation grew and we became very successful, we expanded and soon we were known amongst the
foreigners. We learned that their culture was very different from ours and now of course, the west and the
east coexist peacefully and the new generation has the best of both worlds, a fusion of cultures that cannot
be replicated anywhere else in the world.
My daughter is now being immersed in this world of diverse culture, she has learned the rich history that the
Pearl River delta has to offer and she knows that every place and culture has a back story and this is just one
of the many different versions. My daughter has taught me even more about this mix of culture as she takes
after her father in looks, with long golden hair that I envy, and bright blue eyes that never seem to judge,
but she sounds and acts like a typical Chinese girl, much to the amusement of my friends. They ask me
what it is like having a ‘mixed’ family.
I reply “every day is a lesson and every day is a blessing”.
