Looking Back at Hong Kong

Amidst the reshaping of Hong Kong’s social, cultural, political and ideological landscape, how do we reenvisage a city that exists in our memories? For those who have left their hometown—or the place they once called home—the question, “What does it mean to be a...

Blue Snow

Blue snow. They’d taken her to see it as a child, that magical weather born from the Min river that floats up, not down, past the cypress and past the peaks and eventually paints the sky. Snowflakes that choose not to fall. I wrote this story some years ago, and was...

The Unicorn King

Truth told, it all started with the fish-market children. All summer long they’d assailed Black Tooth, begging he teach them his secret technique for smoking cigarettes in the rain. Whenever a typhoon squall would rise, they’d gather beneath the umbrellas on the pier,...

Flower Pot

At six o’clock he rises, creaking, and says “How are you?” to the flower pot on the table. It is empty. Outside, smog saddens the day. The tram’s copper bellchime sounds through the balcony, and this is a bad Tuesday, he thinks, though it is Wednesday. He checks...

Chiaroscuro

Chiara’s father had a bright face once. In the sapphire dusks of the garden in Naples, her father had the smile of a saint. But now he is smudged, and he falls asleep on the couch with his mouth wide open. Sometimes he wears a mask. Absolutely charmed to see my story,...

Chinese Poetry

Dinghao squatted on a flat stone ledge, peering out over the swamp and the town and the torchlights that flickered in the darkness like a zodiac of doom. “What now?” Coffin Maker Wang whispered. With a coolness to his gaze, Dinghao turned to the opposite direction,...