Chapter Twenty
Hong Kong
Yut Ying
Most Sundays when Lily went back to school, Tommy and I would meet by my loquat tree.
It was two meters tall now, its trunk slender yet sturdy.
After surviving four monsoon seasons, it had finally bloomed, white flowers crowning the top of the tree.
Often I’d find Tommy sitting under its canopy, sketching in his book while he waited for me.
This Sunday I was the one who arrived early.
“I need the money from the photoshoot.”
My voice was hoarser than I’d rehearsed in my head. All day I’d been doing mental sums about how much it’d cost for me to take Lily out of Hong Kong, where we’d go, and how long we could survive until I found a new job.
“You’ve good timing, Miss Ha,” said Tommy. He was in a jolly mood and didn’t notice my grimace. “Get on the bike, I have a surprise for you.”
I didn’t budge. “Tommy, the money.”
“It’s related, I promise.”
I climbed behind him onto the bicycle. Each time we met, we explored a different part of Hong Kong.
My favorite was an abandoned war tunnel Tommy had found near Queens Road Central.
There were dozens of such tunnels across the island, some built by the Japanese to store explosives and ammunition, and others built as air raid shelters.
We’d spent the whole afternoon exploring and listening to our voices echo.
Today, we arrived at the junction of Queensway and Hennessy Road, a bustling part of the city where billboard ads quilted the expanse of every building.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“Look up.”
Next to a billboard for Johnnie Walker and the American movie It’s a Wonderful Life—was me. Me, in my yellow dress with purple polka dots, a bottle of Peaksoy tipped to my lips, smiling coyly as I look over my shoulder. Soy is joy, it read.
“Took a while to book this spot,” Tommy murmured, “but I’ll say the wait was worth it.”
My mouth fell agape in wonder. The poster was enormous, covering nearly the entire side of the building—and it was in color!
“I thought your father didn’t like yellow,” I exclaimed.
“He changed his mind,” Tommy replied. “The color shots turned out better than anyone expected.” He grinned. “And—I convinced him that it made you shine like the sun.”
I blushed. It was true, in the photo I glowed like the luckiest girl in Hong Kong. But only because I was looking at Tommy.
“Thousands will see you every day,” he said. “Your dimples are going to be famous.”
“How famous?” I teased, my neck still craned high.
It was a good photo of me. A timeless photo.
I ought to have worried that Sai Ma or Gu Ma might notice it, but I was more consumed by the prospects of Mama’s seeing it one day, and my brother Syun Kit in Malaya.
I wondered whether they’d miss me when they did.
Tommy didn’t reply. He was still cycling, and I spotted yet another Peaksoy sign, and another and another.
I stared in awe. There had to be over a dozen billboards of me, plastered across Hennessey Road down to Causeway Bay, and looking up at them was like viewing an endless reflection in a hall of mirrors.
This was one of the busiest streets on Hong Kong Island, where only British and American companies could afford to advertise. Now, Peaksoy, too.
“Tommy,” I whispered, “you said your grandfather was a soybean farmer.”
“He is.”
“How big is his farm?”
Tommy braked, the muscles in his back going tense. It was all the reaction I needed.
“You’re rich,” I said. It sounded like an accusation because I didn’t know how else to express how I felt. It was no secret that Tommy’s family was well-to-do, but I’d imagined that they owned a bustling stall in Central Market, maybe even had a presence in a department store or two. Not this.
“It’s all recent,” he explained. “Even I’m still getting used to it.”
“Must be hard getting used to,” I said. “Soon it’ll be your mother snubbing my aunt at mahjong games.”
That made him laugh. “She’d love nothing more.” His voice turned husky. “But don’t worry, Ying. I won’t change.”
There were fireflies in my chest, burning bright and fluttering fast. I turned away before I burst. “How did your family build this?”
“During the occupation, we survived on soybeans. They’ve got even more nutrients than rice, you know.
We ate them, we drank them, we sold the milk to anyone who would buy it.
Eventually my grandfather bought a stone mill to make more soymilk.
We’d been lucky, and he wanted to share that luck.
He heard about the camps in Kowloon where refugees were starving, so he made soymilk for them.
People didn’t forget what he did for them, and after the war, they wanted to work for him. They helped him start Peaksoy.”
“Your grandfather sounds like a good man.”
“Yes, he was.”
“Was?”
“Since my po po passed away, all he cares about is making money. Lately, he’s made rules about who I can be friends with, hiring tutors so I’ll develop the right accent, and choosing the schools I’ll go to.
My mum’s become obsessed. Everything she does is calculated so I’ll become his favorite grandson and take over the business one day. ”
“You don’t want that?”
“Nah, wouldn’t be able to go joyriding on my bike in the middle of the day or nap under a banyan tree after lunch. I haven’t got the stomach to be a tycoon.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “Peaksoy is everything to you.”
“No,” he replied. His voice was deeper than it’d been a minute ago, and he leaned forward until our noses almost touched. “Not everything.”
My heart galloped. We’d touched plenty of times, when I hugged his waist while riding the bicycle, or when he passed me a bottle of soymilk—but it’d never made my stomach swoop before. Never made my entire face hot, either, as if I’d swallowed a star.
That’s because you’re in love with him, Sui Chan would point out if she were here. She was the only friend I’d told about Tommy.
I did like Tommy. But I’d promised myself never to get married, never to fall in love.
After a moment, he pulled away from me. “Here’s your payment,” he said, handing me an envelope. “You made the campaign a big success.”
I counted the bills inside. Three hundred Hong Kong dollars!
“Happy?”
I nodded, beaming.
“How about you treat me to a drink, then? It’s sweltering.”
We found a small cha chaan teng a few streets down, and Tommy ordered our favorites, along with two egg tarts. When my red-bean ice arrived, I hardly touched it.
“Your drink is melting,” he commented. “Are you nervous your family will see the posters?”
Normally I would be, but right now, the Peaksoy posters were the least of my concerns.
“I’m your friend, Ying. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
I sipped my red-bean ice, letting the sweet cold numb my agitation. “Would you ever get an arranged marriage?”
“What?” Tommy choked on his drink. “Are you—”
“Not me. Lily.” Her name tasted salty, like tears. “My family’s found a husband for her, and they’re sending her off to live with his family.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” Tommy pursed his lips. “Arranged marriages aren’t as common as they were before the war, especially in Hong Kong. But they still happen.”
“Why Lily?”
The question was more to broadcast my distress. I didn’t expect him to have an answer.
“I have an idea,” he started. “It’s just a rumor. Maybe you’ll have heard it by now . . .”
“I haven’t.” I touched his arm, then leaned my good ear forward. “Tell me.”
He said quietly, “Some people are saying that your uncle colluded with the Japanese during the war.”
My uncle?
My uncle had died mysteriously during the war, and that was all I knew about him.
There was no altar to him in the house, Gu Ma never mentioned his name, and if the topic came up, she quickly changed it.
In the past I assumed it was because she didn’t like to discuss the dead, for Gu Ma was superstitious in that way.
She didn’t even stock melon in the kitchen because the word was inauspicious-sounding.
No, I did know one thing about my uncle: He’d had an associate. Zhou Hin Kong.
I suppressed a shudder. “They think he was a collaborator?”
“I don’t know much,” Tommy admitted. “My mum said something about him and your aunt helping spread sympathizer propaganda and outfitting Japanese soldiers with goods from their factory. There’s also a rumor that they allowed them to traffic opium through your factory.”
Opium had been banned in Hong Kong for years, so I’d assumed Baba got his from the black market. Plenty of people did.
Then I realized. We were the black market!
“What’s the matter? Ying, you’ve gone pale.”
I wasn’t listening. I’d fallen back in time to the day the Japanese raided my home and I’d hidden in the cupboard, praying I wouldn’t die by their blade.
The air at once tasted sour, and bile crept up my throat.
There was no word despicable enough for a traitor such as my aunt.
To think I was related to her! I couldn’t speak.
“I’m sure the rumors will go away eventually,” Tommy said quickly. “The government’s only beginning their investigations—it could take a while.”
Of course Tommy thought Gu Ma was innocent. He thought the best of everyone. Not me.
It explained everything—my family’s sudden drought of social activity, this awful rush to marry Lily off and deceive the Tsangs into being our relations. Even Gu Ma asking me to spy on the seamstresses so many years ago in case they spread nasty rumors about her.
My imagination raced forward. If the British found Gu Ma guilty, we’d lose the factory, the house, everything.
The prospect of shame and poverty didn’t frighten me so much as what it meant for Lily and me running away.
It’d be harder to whisk my sister away from home once an investigation began.
Which meant I had to act now, save Lily now.
I must have looked panicked, for Tommy’s hand found my arm, holding me firm and steadfast. There came a flip in my stomach as I leaned against him, tucking my head into the sturdy crook of his neck.
Turned out there was one thing I dreaded losing.
For though I didn’t have Mama’s sight, I had a feeling the next time Tommy and I saw each other, things would be different.
“If you can’t see me anymore,” I said, “I’ll understand.”
“Why wouldn’t I see you anymore?” His confusion grew. “I’ll always be there for you. I—”
“It’s late,” I said, cutting him off. I rubbed my left ear, which had started to throb painfully. “I need to go home.”
Tommy pressed his lips closed. “I’ll take you.”
Only when I was home did I realize he’d never finished what he was going to say.