You have a postcard framed in an IKEA picture frame, which sits beside your bed. Your wireless charger is right in front of the postcard, so you look at the postcard at least twice a day, before you sleep and after you wake up.
You got this postcard from an indie photography exhibition in a cafe. You strolled on the streets of Sheung Wan that day and came across a crowded coffee shop. Through the ceiling-to-floor window, you spotted postcards of Hong Kong that looked nothing like those gift shop clichés. You purchased a cup of coffee, and they offered a postcard alongside. The postcard shows an alleyway that resembles a New Territories village. The lush leaves and bougainvillea drape from the tall mesh wire fences on both sides, forming a partial tunnel. The sky behind is bright and blue, and you are lured to step beyond, to investigate what’s hidden behind those exquisite pink flowers, a possible wonderland of a sort that you have never seen.
Sadly, you don’t know where this alley is located, even when the words “Kowloon Tong” are inscribed on the postcard’s back. All the times you have been to Kowloon Tong, you have only stayed in Festival Walk and its vicinity, so you never knew of the existence of such a place before.
This morning, you wake up to the warm and pleasant sunshine of early spring. Chinese New Year passed not long ago, so it is still a bit breezy, but it will be hotter in the afternoon. You grab your phone and glance at the postcard, then get dressed and ready to go.
As soon as she greets you at the door, you pull her in a warm embrace, though you find it wrong to be so demonstrative. She hugs you, and you enter her house. It is still 11 am. Her roommates have gone on a boat trip, she says.
By 12:30 pm, you have showered and cooked lunch while she cleans up the place after showering first. You make spaghetti carbonara with poached egg, and she likes it. “Let’s go out for a walk. The weather is good. Unless… you want to stay here.” She grins and watches you as your face turns red. You find it too forward to succumb to your desire again, as if that’s the only reason you come over, but she doesn’t mind it. She hugs you after the getting down.
You feel embarrassed and remain silent after you both go downstairs. She takes you to Flower Market Road, where various plants are displayed. The sunlight is even stronger now, and you find it difficult to look at the sky without squinting. You lower your gaze and point at the herbs in front of a small shop and tell her that you have planted most of them before, like rosemary, basil, lemongrass, chocolate mint, orange mint, apple mint and peppermint.
“What happened to them then?” She asks.
“I used all the rosemary and basil for cooking. The mint and lemongrass died from unknown causes. We’ve always thought that our hamster somehow escaped and ate them, then went back without being noticed. Of course, it is just a speculation.” You show her a picture of the hamster. She giggles after seeing it and comments that it is fat.
You two carry on walking and enter another shop. The first kind of plants you see after stepping onto the brown tiles are orchids. You always have a weird idea that they should be on sale during the Chinese New Year only. Yet, orchids continue to be on display, and their price is staggeringly low, too—eighty dollars for three pots. You jokingly ask if she wants any, and she pats your shoulder and dares you to buy it for her next year.
Will the two of you still be seeing each other by then? Will you still hang out with her as you do now? You wonder but don’t say anything. Instead, you point at the gladiolus hiding in the corner and ask her to buy them for you in return. It makes you feel safer to bind her with an equal spell, so she may feel the same sadness you do if that never happens.
Outside the shop, you two observe an old lady as she picks six pots of orchids, a few lucky bamboos and a pot of peony. Her daughter is holding the pots she has chosen, and sweat forms on her forehead as she stands in the sun. She says something to the old lady, and the old lady shakes her head in disapproval, but you cannot make out what they’re saying. She guesses the daughter wants her mother to stop stockpiling plants for the next Chinese New Year, while you suppose that the daughter wants her mother to pick other colours since all the orchids she has chosen are light purple. You will never know the real answer, for you cannot ask a stranger about their conversation. The two of you resume your stroll.
The next shop offers flowers of similar kinds—roses, lilies, orchids and peonies. The signboard and interior design are similar too. Both signboards are white, the only difference being the font and name. When you look at all the shops on this street, you find that most of them have white signboards. Some have different interior designs, but the practically identical signboards bore you. Not to mention that the plants and supplies they sell are also alike. Why are you looking at flowers transplanted in pots if you are not going to get any? Why try to appreciate nature in the most unnatural place, where nature is commodified? You want to spend time with her, but is this the best place to spend time together? You grow quiet and stop entering every shop you come across. She detects your discontent, so she puts down the cactus and asks, “what’s wrong?” Her voice filled with genuine concern.
You feel embarrassed, ashamed even, for making her ask you. Why can’t you just tell her you want to go somewhere else? Why do you have to stay quiet? You know she understands you. You know there is no need to hide, as you feel that she has already seen your everything and accepts you. You want her to be happy with you. So why are you acting stupid?
You take a deep breath, “I just feel bored. I want to see flowers that are not trapped within pots. The flowers here are similar, there is no need to see them. We are almost at the end of the road anyway, can we go somewhere else?”
“You should have told me sooner! I thought it was something serious. Is it alright if we leave Prince Edward then? I know a place you will like.” She strokes your head, and you nod while blushing. You still feel stupid, but you grin uncontrollably. Thank heavens, your mask conceals the blush.
She takes you through Flower Market Path, and you hear some kids chortle. There are children playing on the playground, two of them are wearing blue kindergarten uniforms. “I thought they don’t need to go to school on Saturday,” You wonder. You watch as they run around, then one of the girls trips over the soft mats and falls on the grey-tiled ground. An old lady wants to help her, but she gets up by herself and chases after other kids. On a bench not far, you see a couple sitting together, the girl’s head resting on the boy’s shoulder. Spring is the season of first love. You wonder if they are each other’s first love.
The birds’ chirping and cars’ whooshing create a specific blend of tranquillity that is only found in Hong Kong. Though you need to walk for a long while before reaching the main road, you can already hear the traffic. Hmm… Bird and Car Blend. It sounds like a feasible coffee blend. You pitch your idea to her, and she suggests making other seasonal blends too, like Cicada and Typhoon Blend and Miscanthus and Crab Blend. “Crab blend sounds terrible! Is it a savoury blend, then? How can you even make one? Add dried crab meat to coffee?” You exclaim, but you actually want to experiment with it.
“That’s not a bad idea. Go, try it!” She grabs your arm right before you step out on the road carelessly. The traffic light has turned red on Boundary Street, and the cars were accelerating. She lets go of your arm, but you are aroused, and because of what? Because she just saved you? Or because she grabbed your arm? You have been stupid the whole day, yet you are still aroused. How can you be so shameless?
You are concerned that others may notice, though you are wearing jeans today, so it is not apparent. You wonder if the men waiting to cross on the other side can see your uneasy gesture and guess what has happened to you. Think sad thoughts… think about the future of your friendship… That does the trick, but now you are sad even when she is right next to you.
After passing a school, she leads you to Tat Chee Avenue. The sun shines directly above your head, and you can’t wait to dash under the trees. Fewer people are walking here, the only ones being two older people taking a stroll and a woman wearing a black dress. Her way of dressing doesn’t fit within this neighbourhood. “Maybe she’s a wealthy resident?” She suggests. “The rich won’t walk. They drive.” You counter. “She lost her car.” She retorts.
There are trees all along Fai Hui Park, and you are grateful for them, though sunlight still leaks through the leafy shadow and makes you sweat. The light makes the top of the leaves so bright and the bottom so dark that they glow in contrast. You think the leaves are in chartreuse green, but she has no idea what chartreuse is. You find a picture on your phone and show it to her. She thinks some of the leaves are lime green too. Lime makes you think of lemon, and you begin singing, “I wonder how, I wonder why, yesterday you told me ’bout the blue, blue sky. And all that I can see, is just a yellow lemon tree…” She joins you as well, but doesn’t know what you are implying. Only a few people are on the street, so the two of you sing freely. Singing together liberates you temporarily.
By the time you reach a bus station, both of you are drenched in sweat. A family of four is waiting for the bus. The mother holds up a fan for her children, and the father stands behind them, trying to stay under the protection of the trees. You shift your gaze to the distant view as the father catches your stare. There, Lion Rock sits. The sunlight does little to lighten the lion’s pelt, and it is still a dark brown hue, the green patches are in a greyish green. The lion looks quite dull, like the current situation here. Still, you have never imagined that you could see Lion Rock here. You have a false impression that Lion Rock is only visible in the vicinity of Wong Tai Sin, which is wrong. Sometimes you feel that the symbol of Lion Rock is overused Hong Kong, though you concur that it looks nice. You wonder if the dullness will pass.
You walk closer, and the school on the right blocks it. She leads you across the road and passes through Chinese Rhenish Church. The white and orange facades look extremely complimentary, and even the grey rockwork near the ground appears lovely. As you pass through the main door, you see a cross composed of blue glass panels. The colour combination of the church is brilliant. You are completely captivated.
“Have you ever been to church before?” She suddenly asks as you slow down your pace and admires the façade.
“Huh? Oh, yes. My parents are Christians. We used to go to church together. There was a period of church hopping for them, so I tagged along. Now I don’t go. How about you?” You still feel moved sometimes when you see something magnificent (is it the work of the Holy Spirit? you don’t know), but you no longer feel the connection between yourself and God.
“I used to, but I don’t anymore.” The two of you fall into silence. You feel weird now, two non-believers standing outside a church. So you ask her where you guys should head. “Take a right turn over there.” She points at the road ahead. You say goodbye to this place and try to leave the Holy Spirit behind, then move on.
A woman is walking a corgi, and your attention is caught by it. She waits for you, but your eyes are glued to the dog. “Don’t you want to see the flowers?” She pushes you along the street. You look to your left and catch a glimpse of the lion’s body, then its head. This time, it is framed by the cream-white walls of the church and residential buildings, so the rock looks like a view in a vintage film. It looks oddly like a photo of Mount Fuji you have seen online. Under the sun, all mountains have that brownish glow that makes them romantic… it is hard to explain, but when you look at a mountain at a distance, its colours will be less intense due to the lower visibility. That makes them romantic, and exceptionally romantic here, as she is right beside you. You have only noticed that the sun has gone down a little, so the sunlight is softer and warmer. You look at her. Her hair is also wrapped in the golden sunlight. Unlike the mountain, her face is visible, but she is beautiful to you.
She notices you smiling at her, so she asks, “Do you like Lion Rock?”
“So-so. I actually meant to climb to the top, but have never been myself.”
“I have been on the top before. Maybe we can go there together someday. It is not as hard as people say.” You are focused on the word ‘together’. She wants to go together. You and her. Together.
You both saunter into the alleyway that leads to some stairs. You look to your right and see a kindergarten at the back of that church. There are stickers of cartoon birds on the windowpane, a green bird that looks like the Twitter logo, and a blue penguin. You remember going to a Christian kindergarten that holds Halloween parties every year. You turn to her and ask, “Do you think the influence of Christianity is too strong in Hong Kong?”
“That’s an interesting question,” She places her hand under her chin, “Maybe? But that is not a problem, right? My roommates are both Christians, and we get along just fine. And wow, we have been friends since F1, which is more than 15 years already.”
“Maybe.” You don’t know why you’ve asked that question. Maybe you want to justify your rebellion of sleeping with someone who is not even your lover. Perhaps you want to show that you can live a good life without following the rules of your upbringing. Anyway, you walk down the stairs. The slip-resistant layer is peeling off, exposing the concrete underneath the black coating. The two of you continue to step down and turn left. White brick walls enclosed the stairs. You see some graffiti painted over with white paint, but you cannot make out what they are saying.
“Hey, look at this. If the subway is flooded, wear a bathing suit.” She chuckles. You see the sign too. Some people stuck masking tape on the warning and wrote over it.
“Will you wear it then, if it rains?” You ask.
“Why? You want to see it?” She raises her eyebrow while retaining her smile.
“Of course!” For some reason, you shouted for that last part.
She breaks into a chortle, “Let’s go swimming next time.”
“Sure.” Your heart picks up its pace and thumps loudly.
You turn right and arrive at the bottom of the stairs. A tunnel with cheery blossom trees painted on the sides enters your eyes, which disappoints you. The yellow lights attempt to brighten the tunnel, but it remains dim and unappealing. The sunlight outside floods in and seizes some parts of the tunnel. You step closer to the walls. The petals are too fake for your liking, and the painting is too flat. The shade of green and pink are all wrong. “I thought we were going to see real flowers. These are just stickers. They are not even painted directly on the walls! If the tunnel floods, they will peel, and it will expose what’s behind—”
She interrupts, “These are not the flowers I want to show you. These cherry blossoms weren’t here before. The real flowers are up that way, outside of the tunnel.” She holds out her hand, and you take it. You walk up three steps, and what appears in front of you sweeps you of all the discontent you had just a moment ago.
It is the scene from the postcard.
She lets go of your hand as you pace into the alleyway. The mesh wire fences on both sides are further enhanced with tinplate, so you cannot see what’s happening behind the fence. However, that’s none of your concern. You are simply overjoyed to see the place of your dreams. There is more bougainvillea here than in the postcard, and the magenta of the petals and the forest green of the leaves look even more intense in real life. There are so many of them that you may drown in this pink and green ocean. The sky is bright and blue, and there is not a cloud in sight. The warmth of the sun makes you perspire but you don’t care. All that matters is you are here, you are finally here.
You eagerly quicken your pace to uncover what’s hidden behind those beautiful flowers. There are houses and low structures along the pathway. Unsurprisingly, their façades are also white, like most buildings you have seen today. It strikes you that the buildings are so low that you can see the blue sky clearly, which reminds you of the small village you have been to in the UK. This place is so unlike Hong Kong that it becomes enticing for you. This is what postcards should do. They should introduce new places to people and uncover special places, but not replicate clichés and claim that they are the “authentic Hong Kong.”
“How did you know I want to come here? Thank you!” You almost want to hug her, but you are afraid she doesn’t want that. She pats your head again and smirks, “Remember? You sent me that postcard through text before and keep saying how gorgeous that place is. Now that we are here, what do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?” You ask but begin to realize the subtext.
“Do you want to go to the MTR station and leave, or spend more time together? We can find a place… or we can also go back to my place and chill…”
You look at her. Her hair glistens under the sunlight. Her face lights up because you are looking at her. Her smile is sweet, and her cheeks are rosy from all the walking. Actually, you don’t have to do anything. You just want to stay with her, hold her close, feel her warmth on this perfect day, but these are not the options she offers. She is more interested in getting laid.
“If they have rooms, we can. Or we can go back to your place.” You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to leave her. Let me stay, even though it won’t be long. Let me stay, you think desperately in your head.
You stare at her and feel tears rushing to your eyes. Your smile disappears, and you look away. You want her to know what’s wrong. You want her to know that you want her to stay. But so what? She won’t, and she can’t. That’s why the two of you are friends and nothing more, despite being more.
She looks into your eyes and immediately understands. She pulls you to the side and wraps her arms around you as she repeats, “oh silly, why are you sad? Don’t be, don’t be…” You hug her tighter and close your eyes. Today is supposed to be a perfect day. You have a perfect start, a nice walk, and you get to see the place of your dream. Yet, despite knowing all that, you still cannot help yourself.
“In a few hours we will part, the sun will set, and darkness will come. You won’t be here and I will be gone… I will still see you next week and the week after, but you will be gone someday, next year. What can I do then?”
“We still have time.”
“But then I won’t see you in person anymore. I cannot hold you tight, I cannot have you by my side.”
“But right now, I am here. You say it yourself too, that we will meet next week and the week after, and we will still meet after that. I also feel sad to leave you, but don’t you think I feel the same? I just want our time together to be happy. That’s all.” She pulls away from the hug and points at the view, “I know you want to visit this place, so I brought you here today. I care for you deeply, don’t you dare think I am just messing with you.”
“I know, I know…” You mutter and pull her back into your embrace, desperate to hold her close, but it seems like no matter how hard you pull her in, it will never be enough.
“I want to take a picture with you.” You wipe away your tears.
“Sure.” She smiles and strokes your hair gently.
Both of you take off your masks. Click.
“You are cute.” She makes a mess of your hair, but you are not angry. You want to say you are not cute, but at last, say nothing. You kiss her before she puts her mask back on, and you chuckle. So does she.
You stare at her, your gaze lingers, and the wind blows.
A petal falls on her head.
You pick it up and keep it in your pocket.
ns 15.158.61.37da2
