Part I: Luck

Characters

Yao Wong - China Chun-Yan Lieng - OC Yao’s mom Lei Wong - OC Yao’s dad Dong- OC

Chapter 1: The Deep Bay

春季到来绿满窗， 大姑娘窗下绣鸳鸯。 忽然一阵无情棒， 打得鸳鸯各一旁。

Spring comes and the window fills with green A maiden sits by the window embroidering a pair of mandarin ducks Suddenly, a heartless blow Splits the ducks in two

***

August, 1957

Inhaling the cold salty air sharply, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the times when he was younger, much younger than he is now, and when he would take his rusty bike with his friends down the dirt road from his grade school to the estuary nearby that connected to this very bay he stood in front of, to the wider ocean that was unknown to him.

Hau Hoi Wan was what they called this bay - the Back Bay - and for quite some time, the man had always been envious of the fishermen on there long narrow boats on the sea, steadying themselves as they would toss a long nets made of intricately tied ropes, hauling in fish. He would rather sit on a boat all day than work in the rice fields his family owned in the small village of Jinqiu that was much further away from the coolness of the ocean and consumed by the heat of the sun.

The man was looking at the same body of water that he would stare out at as a young student- however, he stared at the dark waters in front of him with fear and dread rather than with the wonder and anticipation he would have had. He glanced ahead at the darkness that laid before him, no sight of land to be seen. The reflection of the moon could be seen rippled on the water that was far from still, and as he glanced up to the ink black night sky freckled with a few heavy clouds rolling in the distance, he wanted to remain static in this moment.

He wanted to go back home. He wanted to turn around and traverse back to Jinqiu, not caring that it would take him another week by walking to get there. He wanted to see his Mama again, even though at this point, she is nothing more than skins and bones.

Alas, he knew he had nothing left to turn back to. He had no future here, either in Jinqiu or anywhere in the province of Guangdong. His Baba was likely dead at this point, and his Mama- his poor, lovely Mama- was laying on her deathbed at home, painfully dying from pneumonia under the watchful eye of the village women.

He glanced back to the village that was a few meters away from the shore, and saw the flickering flames of the lanterns within the small stick huts die slowly, one by one.

This is the last time he would be in China. The last thing he’ll see is Shenzhen- this poor, tiny village that he watched silently. In the next four hours, he’ll either be a dead floating body in the bay, or he would have made it to the shores of Hong Kong safely.

“Yao,” a low, steady tone, drew the man’s attention away from the lanterns to the side.

He had travelled from their tiny village to the village to Shenzhen with a few other men around his age with the same goal he had- to leave China and make it Hong Kong in one piece.

Had travel not been restricted between Hong Kong and China, they would not have to resort to swimming across the Back Bay in order to get to the old British colony. It was the only way- there was no Hong Kong patrols in the bay, and it was better than attempting to be smuggled through a boat where they would be grave consequences for being caught.

The man who he knew as Dong, a close family friend who was few years older than Yao, and who had promised his mother that he would accompany Yao to Hong Kong. Dong had been planning on doing this since the first wave of soldiers marched through their village, gathering all the men who were considered to be rightist by the government standards.

Yao’s dad, Wong Lei, was one of those men. Along with Dong’s father, they rushed them into a military van, whisking them away after causing further chaos by burning the a few of the crops of land the village owned.

Chun-Yan, Yao’s mother, had begged Dong to take Yao to Hong Kong with him in order to escape the potentially devastating fate that may befell him if he continued to live in Guangdong. She specifically wanted him to go to Un Long Town, a town in the innerland that was a popular place that Chinese mainlanders aim to land according to the bandit Dong had arranged this journey with. This town was where Yao knew his aunt, his mother’s younger sister, Lieng Chun-Yi, lived with her three children, and he knew that they were the only ones he could turn to for solace.

Yao did not trust the bandit in the least, with his unkempt short hair and short beard that was unusual for young men to wear, and the sinister look in his beady eyes as he accepted the payment from Dong. Yao, however, did trust Dong, and as long as he was beside him in this journey, he knew he would be safe.

He hoped he would be safe.

“Come what may, I’ll be by your side,” Dong said, narrow eyes maintaining eye contact with Yao’s, making the latter even more uneasy than he already was. “I promised Auntie Liang to take you to your aunt safely.”

Yao simply nodded, not knowing what to say and took one last look at the village, longingly. He had accepted that there was no home to turn back to. He took a step forward, his bare feet tipping into the cold water, sending goosebumps throughout his body.

His mind blanked, the light splashing of legs running towards the water could be heard as he slowly walked forward, fear leaving his body.

“From the end of the world, to the farthest sea I searched for my heart's partner A young girl sings, while he accompanies her on the instrument Our love through the hard times is deep indeed Oh, our love through the difficult times is deep”

One of Yao’s earliest memory of his younger days was hearing this song playing on the small radio their family owned, on a warm spring day. His mother was making their afternoon meal, sitting on the floor of their kitchen as she washed the rice in a bowl, while Yao was staring out from the open door to their flat yard, his legs swaying idly to the song. He was likely waiting for his father to return from the rice fields, but the details were vague.

He knew he had loved this particular song, with the tune being oh too familiar. His mother always hummed this particular song to herself as she went about her family chores, and when she would try to lull Yao to sleep.

When he first heard the song on the radio, albeit the reception they received from their village was terribly, with the static interfering here and there, he instantly fell in love with the singer, with the way her words flowed out in a high voice, and with the beautiful erhu that accompanied her throughout the song.

“The song is called ‘The Wandering Songstress’,” Chun-Yan said after the song had finished and Yao had questioned her about it. Yao sat in front of her, staring, as she continued to shift the rice through the water. Her thick black hair was pulled back into a bun, a scarf pushing back her stray hairs, and yet, she still looked young for her age. “Zhou Xuan is the singer.”

Chun-Yan continued, her warm brown eyes glazing over as if she were looking into a far distant. “She released this song the year you were born. She was quite a doll in Street Angel! If only I had a photo of her to show you- your father and I used to watch her movies whenever we went to Guangzhi.”

Yao only half cared about the latter information, not caring much for the trivial affairs of his parents, but the name Zhou Xuan was imprinted in his mind, and the song in association. The singer was further imprinted after his mother showed him a torn photograph of the singer that she had kept for quite some time, Yao instantly falling in love with the singer’s entire being.

Even now as an adult, listening to Zhou Xuan’s voice puts his mind at ease, wrapping his body in the warmth and happiness of a lover’s want and affair. Oddily, however, hearing the song filled him with safety as well. It was the safety of his mother that he sensed in the song, who he could still sometimes hear her soft voice singing and humming the song, even though she has stopped doing ever since she fell ill.

But as he swam through the cold waters in front of him, the cold air filling his lungs causing a distinct pain and his body feeling numb, he repeated the song in his head, in his mother’s voice.

“Looking north from my mountain nest My tears fall and wet my blouse Missing him, I will not rest Only love that lasts through hard time is true”

And he kept going. 

And going.

 And going.

Mao Zedong, chairman of the Communist Party of China, formally gained power on October 1st, 1949. Not only did Yao have this memorized in head from the yearly military marches that would be broadcasted in the village leaders television and every villager would clamour around to witness the black and white images play in front of them with wide eyes, but he would constantly be reminded of this fact due to him being born on October 1st as well.

Yao was born in the year 1937, a few months after the first attack by the Japanese in Peking, preluding the Second Sino-Japanese War and allowing Japanese occupation that lasted well until the fall of 1945. These parts of history have always been drilled in Yao’s head, from his lessons at his school to what his father would vividly recount to him, even though they were relatively safe from most of the conflicts that occured. Though, as luck may have it, they were never apart of the conflict zone or targets of incidents with the Japanese army, and Yao’s life during the war was nothing more than a blur of various colourful parts of the village.

Wong Lei had always supported the Communist Party- as a farmer in a village forgotten by the state, they fought for the poor and forgotten of China. Yao remembers hiding behind the wall separating the living room to the kitchen, snippets of fuzzy discussions of support from men during the civil war, drinking from small clay cups while Chun-Yan would bring in a fresh pot of tea. Most had supported Chairman Mao and wanted the KMT gone.

“He is for the people,” the men would say, a slogan that stuck with the CPC in the public’s mind, and would be carried when Chairman Mao proclaimed that their nation was now the People’s Republic of China.

Until after his election, however, they started to have complex feelings about how he handled the situation in China. Closed borders and lack of resources affected the village much more than what they expected to be. Censorship was the main issue with Yao’s father, who was a man of many opinions and have the skills to sway anyone who cared to listen to him talk. And in their village, there were plenty of people willing to listen.

He could have been a scholarly man, Chun-Yan had told Yao. He could have went to university if he wanted to, with a strong personality and the willingness to learn and write of many topics, especially in politics. Yao has seen his collection of books and papers that were tucked away in the corner of the house, layered in dust due to neglect.

Yao admired his father for his opinions. He admired that he stood up for what he believed in.

His opinions caused his own downfall, alas.

It had happened so fast. The day was like any other July day, the sun high and bright, the trees swaying to the light wind as wind chimes could be heard from the distance. Yao was pulling water from the well on the outskirts of the village and was walking up the dirt path towards home when he heard distant yelling and cries.

He walked to his house to find a hanful of men in the green uniforms with guns in their hands, ready to hurt anyone who interfered.

"Wong Lei," a man who stood taller than the rest of the soldiers, with his red sash and medals that signified he was of higher rank, barked out as two soldiers held Yao's father between them, nearly dragging his legs through the dirt. "You are under arrest for cultivating a rightist movement against the government of the People's Republic of China."

Yao couldn't do anything other than sneak into his house to find his mother on the ground, sobbing and alone, but unharmed. The house was a mess, with the table being flipped over, and his father's books ripped up and splayed across the floor.

Within a blink of an eye, they left, with other men who they claimed to be rightists, and thus a threat to the government. Yao never heard from his father again.

From the rumours that surrounded this campaign the government is holding, his father would be in a camp either working as a hard labourer or dead.

For his father’s sake, Yao had hoped that he was executed. His spirit would be liberated from the shackles of this world, and he could live eternally in the peace he could not receive while alive.

NOTES:

Yao Wang -> Yao Wong Due to Yao originating from the southern province of Guangdong in China, where there are alot of native Cantonese speakers, I changed his last name to the Cantonese equivalent

The Anti-Rightist Campaign was a reaction by Mao against the Hundred Flowers Campaign (which was also controlled by Mao's government in order to encourage citizens to openly express their opinions on the government). The campaign was to arrest and persecute "rightists" (vague, but those who may favour capitalism). The first wave was in July 1957.

Jinqiu is a fictional village further from the capital city of Guangzhou, most likely near where modern Duangguan is

The Back Bay is the literal translation for the Shenzhen Bay (or Deep Bay)

Zhou Xuan She was a Chinese singer and actress during the early 1930s till her death in September 1957. Her career was mostly in Shanghai, and gained prominence by the 1940s. The first stanza at the beginning is from her song "Song of the Four Seasons", which appeared in the 1937 movie "Street Angel" where her other song mentionned, "The Wandering Songstress" also makes an appearance. Her songs and her character is a theme in this story because I think Yao in this story would idolize her.

The Continental Hotel mentioned in the summary will make an appearance in Part 2, but it was basically a lounge in Toronto's old Chinatown during the 1950s-1960s where lesbians would hang out. Since Canada had restricted Chinese immigration, Chinese male workers were mostly 'bachelors', and a lot of them would go to The Continental Hotel to basically form relationships with these women (whether sexual or platonic)