Did I catch up???
958 Words
Hong Kong in 1989 was steeped in anxiety. Beneath its glitzy facade lurked fearful souls—Britain was in talks with the Mainland government about Hong Kong’s sovereignty, and its return to China was all but certain. Yet residents wondered: What would life look like afterward? The gulf between Hong Kong and the Mainland felt vast.
Still, with the handover years away, there was time to pretend calm—whether planning to emigrate or not. Life trudged on: work, play, routine.
Ma On Shan Country Park designated April 27, 1979, spanning 2,880 hectares in the central isthmus of Sai Kung Peninsula, New Territories, offered respite. Bordered by Fei Ngo Shan to the south, Lion Rock Country Park to the west, and Sai Kung West Country Park to the east, its peaks—Tai Lo Shan, Ma On Shan, Kwoon Yam Shan—formed a sprawling recreational haven. Most of the park lay inland, save a scenic stretch on Pak Sha Wan Peninsula, where visitors gazed at coasts and outlying islands.
“Faryl, don’t wander off! Sheryl, keep an eye on your sister,” called Leah, a blonde beauty spreading a picnic blanket. Beside her, her husband Drian, a thirty-something foreigner, meticulously washed cutlery. Hundreds of meters ahead, their ten-year-old twin daughters—identical in golden hair, emerald eyes, and matching dresses—raced toward a hill. Future heartbreakers, no doubt.
“Got it, Mom! We’ll play in the woods,” chirped Sheryl, the elder twin.
Drian set down the cutlery with a smile. “Let them be, Leah. They’ve been cooped up in the hotel. Let them run wild.”
“But Drian, there could be dangers in the woods. You coddle them too much,” Leah chided, eyeing the girls’ vanishing figures. “Pass me the noodles, please.”
In the forest, dappled sunlight filtered through canopy, casting cool shadows—perfect for two carefree runners. Though panting, the twins clung to each other, inseparable in motion.
“Sis, hurry! We’re almost there,” Faryl urged, pointing to the hill.
“Slow down, Faryl. It’s still far,” Sheryl panted. “Let’s walk—I’m exhausted.”
“Okay, me too.” Faryl halted, now aware of her aching legs.
**，a guttural scream split the air.
“Ah!” Faryl yelped, hiding behind Sheryl. “What was that? It’s scary!”
“Shh, Faryl. It’s okay.” Sheryl pointed to the right. “The sound came from there. Maybe someone’s hurt. Let’s check.”
Faryl tugged her sister’s sleeve. “No, what if it’s dangerous?”
“Maybe they need help. Stay here—I’ll go.” Sheryl turned, but Faryl chased after her. “Wait! I’m scared alone!”
“Where am I?” Jiang Gufeng wandered a pitch-black void, silence deafening.
“Hello? Is anyone there?!” he screamed, voice cracking. No echo, no reply.
“Let me out… please…” he mumbled, stumbling.
Then—a pinpoint of light. Soft white, blinding in the dark. He raced toward it, but the light rushed faster, piercing him in an instant.
“AH!” Agony ** in his body. He snapped his eyes open—green grass filled his vision.
Before he could rejoice, pain overwhelmed him, as if crushed by a truck. Every bone, every muscle screamed. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose, metallic and bitter, sending him reeling.
Gasping for breath, he heard a faint cry: “Sis, quick—!” He lifted his head, vision blurring as two tiny figures ran toward him. Then, darkness again.
“Sis, come! Someone’s hurt!” Sheryl spotted the motionless figure ahead, crimson pooling on green. Hand in hand, the twins reached him.
Faryl froze at the sight of blood; Sheryl clamped her mouth to stifle a scream. Before them lay a boy their age, nearly naked—torn underwear, back gashed, hands twisted awkwardly, head resting in a scarlet stain.
“Faryl! I’ll stay with him—run back for Mom and Dad!” Sheryl shook her sister awake.
“Okay, be careful! I’ll be right back!” Faryl dashed off, shouts fading: “Mom! Dad—!”
“Ugh… pain…”
After an eternity, Jiang’s consciousness flickered back, pain slicing through him like a blade. Not just his chest now—his head, arms, every nerve burned as if stitched back together crudely.
Breathing ragged, he felt something heavy on his face, eyelids leaden. When he finally pried them open, a ceiling came into focus. No antiseptic smell, just faint floral scents. Am I in a hospital? he wondered. No family left—who’d take me home?
“Hurts like hell… but I’m alive.” Recalling the plane crash, he shuddered. Survived a fall from ten thousand meters? Luck must be on my side. A bitter laugh: “After surviving a great disaster, there must be good fortune ahead, right?”
Then, the image of the little girl from the plane flashed—She must be safe. If I made it, she did too.
“Click.” The door swung open. Jiang tried to turn, but a searing jolt slammed him back.
“Doctor! Doctor!” the visitor yelled, fleeing. “Patient 22 is awake! He’s awake—!”
So it is a hospital. Nice ambiance. Airlines really go all out, he mused. I’ll fly with them again.
His smirk faded as voices approached, shattering his peace:
“Good day, listeners. Today is May 20, 1989. You’re tuned to—”
“Sir, please! This is a hospital. Turn off the radio.”
“Right, sorry—off now, off—”
Jiang’s mind stalled. 1989? Did I mishear? This can’t be real. Are you kidding me, God?
- Writer
