Now it’s April. Hong Kong is still cold, bleak, and damp. When do I get so adapted? The cold never bothered me in the past. Winter in my hometown means sudden blankets of snow. I was rolling in the snow like a kid in a candy store for years, and suddenly, I roll into my forties. What a life! The flavour of happiness can only be savoured in childhood. Then, high school, college, and work, happen one after another. I take a leap of faith to study in Hong Kong for nearly two years. Life! How can all these be held in one life? If life were like a container, what would it be? It may be like an herbal medicine cabinet, which stores substances in drawers separately. With each pull, the aroma wafts from the drawer and lingers in the air, stirring up a flood of long-forgotten memories. They are strange but enchanting, odd but mesmerising. Even with their exquisite curative properties, they reta retain an air of mystery, perhaps even a touch of darkness.

​

Anning stepped onto the bustling bridge with trucks streaming between Hong Kong and Shenzhen. An occasional bus, sparsely punctuating the scene, carried a throng of weary people. Anning's slender, red figure appeared almost ethereally, drifting through the air like a floating plastic bag. Driven by an overfamiliarity with her small hometown, Anning sought solace in this unfamiliar city. Yet, at that very moment, her feeling of loneliness intensified.

​

The rental in Shekou, Shenzhen, was secured a week ago. It was nestled within an hour's stroll from the school. Across the Shenzhen Bay Port, a vibrant community was beckoning. Anning’s apartment was enveloped by verdant trees. It boasted well-furnished interiors, and even a "life-saving bell". Lingyun inspected every nook and cranny, inside and out, playfully testing the bell. With a single press, its resounding chime echoed through the air. Twenty minutes elapsed and not a soul appeared. They exchanged glances, laughter cascading from their lips. The last time they laughed was centuries ago.

​

Enveloped in shades of grey, the sun cast a feeble light that struggled to pierce through to show a faint tinge of red. Below the bridge, the water flowed in a murky mix of grey and yellow while the reed-like plants on the shore wore a cloak of soft grey gauze. Occasionally, a long-legged water bird extended its legs gracefully, then flew up and alighted on the lush grass. On one side of the shore stood Hong Kong, where Anning embarked on her daily school journey, while on the other side lay Shekou, her new "home". Standing in the middle of the bridge, Anning was wrapped in a peculiar and dreamlike sensation.  She had withdrawn from her original life to a vast and unfamiliar realm where she could observe life from a distant vantage point—a perspective that seemed both warped and magnified by its uncanny realism.

​

Not far, below the bridge, was a mangrove forest, and beyond it was Pak Nai Beach, a popular dating spot. Anning once went there with her school's photography association members to shoot the sunset. They carried professional sets with tripods, SLR cameras and telephoto lenses. They were eager to show off their enthusiasm for photography. Anning only brought a point-and-shoot digital camera, so she captured a handful of exceptional  photographs and found it amusing to look at those enthusiastic members discussing aperture and focal length. The bridge was merely half constructed then, hanging in the air as if reaching into the endless void. Once it was finished, the journey across took just a few minutes.

​

As Anning gazed at the fading sunset, she noticed several individuals moving around on Pak Nai Beach. Presumably, they were fellow enthusiasts. Sympathy washed over her as she imagined their potential disappointment. The sunset looked like a faint blush smudge on an ink painting, with no reflections on the sea or the marshland. Their excitement seemed out of place against this backdrop. Speaking of which, Anning believed "The sunset is extremely glorious, only too close to vanishing." The passion to capture this vanishing beauty seemed to wane. Wasn’t that ironic? Or humourous?

​

Anning’s classmates bombarded her with questions, such as, "How does Hong Kong compare to your hometown?" or "Which one do you prefer?" Responding to these repetitive inquiries became exhausting, as they seemed to already assume the answer. Anning, however, thought these questions could not be easily explained in a few words. Life became more intricate as one aged, prompting people to be curious about why Anning chose to return to school. Was it intimidating to quit the office and return to a campus? There were no scheming implicated in these questions. Anning didn’t want to talk too much about her past. The past was in the past. Besides, people treated your life experiences as something that could be gossiped about in their leisure time. You needed to experience the ​​joys and sorrows of your own life, which no one else could truly understand. Anning gave up on seeking sympathy a long time ago. She just gritted her teeth and overcame whatever hardships she encountered.

​

Anning has been entangled with Lingyun for years, probably because of her personality. In the first year they met, Lingyun moved without demur to stay with Anning on the Mainland. Fortunately, accommodation was not an issue since Anning had been working and saving for several years and had bought a house. But then came the Chinese New Year reunion dinner. It was impossible to leave Lingyun alone in a strange city. Go to Anning’s parents’ home together? It was hard to explain their ambiguous relationship. Over the years, Anning has been a bit "with her tail between her legs" in her family and thus didn’t want to be put on the spot. Wasn't Lingyun creating a problem for her? What else could it be? There was nothing Anning could do but take Lingyun home and make up a lie that Lingyun was just a friend. The family didn't ask much, though no one enjoyed the meal.

​

Anning sometimes felt muddle-headed. Who knew starting a relationship with Lingyun meant making an unexpected decision to relocate to Hong Kong? Outsiders might applaud this act as a testament to the power of love, Anning couldn't help but question "How boundless can love truly be? How is it possible for love to inflict such profound pain? " Once, when Anning wanted to end the relationship, Lingyun took a knife and cut herself, leaving a scar on her wrist. Anning’s love had worn away long ago if she had any through the years. Lingyun had a remarkable ability to take every word Anning uttered seriously, incessantly scrutinizing and dissecting them at all hours. Once Anning proposed a trip, and Lingyun got her chance to wrangle day and night, regardless of the season, the situation, or whether Anning had a holiday. Lingyun insisted that Anning failed both in keeping promises and in love. Their daily conflicts were intense, leaving a trail of disarray throughout Lingyun's living space. These past two years had left Anning deeply unsettled, and she dared not expect anything from the future..

​

Life marched forward, indifferent to desires or resistance. From the beginning, they had a "two-year agreement". Or, more accurately, Lingyun had a "two-year agreement" with her husband. During Anning and Lingyun’s break, Lingyun had married her childhood friend, Zhang, a fireman. Anning was left in the dark about the circumstances surrounding their marriage or any agreements they might make. In a bewildering turn of events, Anning became a third party in this unconventional arrangement, sharing the master bedroom with Lingyun while Zhang resided in the guest room for two years. One night during the Chinese New Year, a time traditionally associated with joyous reunions and celebrations, Anning heard crying from Zhang's room — sobs covered by a quilt. Anning felt sorry for him, shedding tears in the solitude of the bathroom. She didn't know much about Zhang and didn't ask much. Even if she asked, Lingyun would not tell.

​

The two-year agreement was coming to an end, and Anning rented a house in Shekou. Lingyun made a fuss again, blaming Anning for her ungratefulness with unpleasant language. Anning understood behind the undesirable words was a broken heart and a soul with no self-confidence. But if so, who would offer Anning sympathy and understanding? In a fit of hysteria, coarse words escaped Lingyun's lips, intolerable for Anning. Without hesitation, she slapped Lingyun twice. These two slaps bolstered Anning's courage, driving away any trace of tenderness, sympathy, and guilt in her heart. She despised herself even more. She had reached her breaking point, wrist cutting or jumping off a building, no matter what! Wasn't a lifetime of living in misery enough? Anning grabbed her backpack and dashed out, with Lingyun chasing after her. They ended up in an elevator, one inside and another outside, locked in a stalemate. Lingyun refused to let Anning close the elevator door, and Anning threatened: "I'll call the police if you keep this up!" And then she pressed the alarm button.

​

The police arrived, and Lingyun was the first to file a complaint, as if she was the one who made the call. She cried and made a scene, accusing Anning of assault. After understanding the situation, the police categorised it as a "domestic dispute" and instructed Anning to apologise. However, Anning flared up and adamantly refused. She didn't mind having a record or going to the police station. She could just go back to her hometown and leave Hong Kong forever. She didn't care at all! Lingyun panicked but didn’t want to pocket her pride. Just as Zhang arrived after completing his work, one of his former colleagues, a police officer, swiftly approached him. With a shared understanding and sympathetic glance, the officer acknowledged Zhang's predicament. Implicitly referring to the challenges of living under the same roof, the officer alluded to a Chinese idiom that states, "Women usually have long hair but short wisdom." Despite the officer's subtle words, Zhang remained silent, but his stern expression conveyed a clear message to Lingyun: "Go home and wash your face!" He then turned around, casting a deep gaze at Anning. Anning would rather have Zhang explode in anger and reveal everything than endure that look. They left the elevator, signed some documents, the police closed the case, and left.

​

The next day, Zhang moved out, leaving the house to his wife and her lover. Just the day before yesterday? It felt like it happened in a previous life. Anning stood in the middle of the bridge, with calm water flowing below. "A river of spring water flows eastward." Does all water flow east? Can this river hold so much water? Or does it gather, disperse, and return, constantly circulating? Nature is so marvellous - even when it seems there is no way to go, countless underground passages connect the entire world. So, wherever the water flows back and forth, mixing it is not strange after all. Isn’t that what happens with people's destinies?

​

Anning once read a short story about a man whose fiancée had married someone else. As he lay on bed, consumed by agony in his hospital room, he began to experience something extraordinary. His room transformed into a crowded beach scene. A female corpse on the floor captured his attention. He approached the body and gently removed his coat and covered her.He believed this act had been the best he could offer.When he was about to leave, a man came over,he proceeded to dig a pit and bury her. At that moment the sick man realised, his effort, though genuine, felt short. He came to realizaion that despite his sincere intentions to provide the best for his fiancée, it might not be enough to fulfill her needs and desires.The story made Anning wonder her relationship with Lingyun and Zhang.

​

There was one time, a Christian at school preached the gospel to Anning and said, "Do you think you have sinned?" Then he talked about all the things people living in this world are guilty of. "God loves everyone and even gifted us with children to extend life." She was a bit impatient and asked, "What is love?" After living for so long, she realised that in our society and our education system, no one ever taught her how to love others, as if this was an innate instinct. If it's instinctive, why were so many people in love so obsessive? The Christian opened the Bible a bit flustered and started reading, "Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious, boastful, arrogant, or rude. It does not insist on its way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends." The words popped out of his mouth one by one, and the voice became lower and lower,as if he was also suspicious himself. Anning felt increasingly angry as she listened to him. To Anning, these were all meaningless and unrealistic things. Anning totally disagreed with what he had said and scolded at him, "You don't understand anything! How dare you ask if I have sinned? How do you teach me what love is? " Seeing the Christian 's flustered expression, she refrained from speaking impolite words and turned around to leave.

​

Before walking onto the bridge, Anning saw a baptism while passing the Gold Coast. The pastor stood in waist-deep water, and his lip turned blue. He reached out to the one being baptised, pressed his hand to her forehead, and prayed. He helped her straight body lie back, soak wet in the seawater, and get up. Her companions sang and danced, as well as cheered on the beach. Anning’s heart was a mess. A kid looked at her, bent down and ran over to her with a bag. Anning was too late to run away. The kid came to her, handed over a small plastic bag, and ran back. It was a pack of mini-Easter eggs. She stuffed it into her coat pocket and turned away.

​

Suddenly, there was a cheer in the distance. Anning was stunned for a moment. The setting sun abruptly jumped in front of the clouds, and the orange penetrated the grey-blue clouds like a heavy persimmon or an eye swollen with tears. She took out her phone to capture the moment.

​

In the cheers, the sun set. Anning took out an Easter egg, twisted the golden packaging rope, peeled it and put it in her mouth. It was a chocolate, bitter and sweet. The people on the beach had left. Only a boat was tied to a wooden peg, half of its hull soaking in the water, swaying gently with the tide. Anning kept eating. In the bag, with the Easter eggs, there was a small card with a pale green background and two pigeons flying with spread wings and a blade of grass in their beak. Underneath was a passage from the Scripture: "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!"(2 Cor. 5:17 New International Version) Anning squeezed the card, flipped it over and over and read it several times with a half-smiling face. She leaned down on the railing,a card tumbled and fell like an autumn leaf. Anning observed its serene presence and recited verses from Chinese poetry, murmuring "Getting on a small boat and vanishing from now on. Spending the rest of my life wandering on the sea." She repeated the lines once more, but this time with a hint of uncertainty in her voice, questioning the implications of such a journey. Leaning over the bridge railing, Anning couldn't help but burst into laughter, feeling a mix of confusion and disorientation.

​

The lights on both sides of the shore gradually lit up. Anning stood in the middle of the bridge, as the water flowed quietly underneath it. It would flow through her hometown and all these memories. Anning stood on the bridge. At that moment, she belonged to another dimension.

 

Friday, 28 September 2007

 

​

​