"Bribing an officer of the Royal Hong Kong Police? Someone like you would be a black sheep in the force. Put that thought out of your mind. I'll make a note in your file, and the Police Training School won't accept you in any future recruitment drive either. You can go."
Song Tianyao could hardly believe a Hong Kong police officer had said that. The candidates before him had all said, after coming out, that all he had to do was put the money on the newspaper and hand it back, and everything would be OK. How come the fellow had suddenly become so upright and incorruptible when it was his turn? Others had been admitted after offering a bribe of fifteen hundred Hong Kong dollars, yet his two thousand had been refused?
Song Tianyao picked up the banknotes scattered on the floor one by one and started to turn and leave. But then he thought that if he went home like this, his pair of oddball parents might well hang themselves together right in front of him. So he put on a smile. "Sir, did I read out too few words? I can read it again. How about three thousand words?"
"I told you to get out! If you won't leave, I'll have someone throw you out!" the dark, fat inspector said, his voice and expression stern.
Song Tianyao hesitated no longer. He put away the money, turned, and left the registration room. Behind him, the fat inspector called out again, "Next!"
As Song Tianyao came out of the gates of the Police Training School, his younger cousin Zhao Wenye, who had been waiting outside for news, hurried over with a broad smile. "Brother Yao! How did it go? Are you staying at the training school to start drills today? Don't worry, I'll take care of Uncle and Auntie. Everything will be fine."
Seventeen-year-old Zhao Wenye was the son of Song Tianyao's youngest maternal aunt. He had a likable face and a tall, sturdy build, and he now earned money doing hard labor at the docks. He was also one of the few playmates Song Tianyao had had growing up.
"Fuck his mother. I don't know when I offended the interviewer. That bastard wouldn't take the money, and he even put a note in my file so I can never apply to be a policeman again." Song Tianyao took out a cigarette, lit it, and waved to a rickshaw in the distance. "Let's go home first."
Zhao Wenye's eyes nearly popped out of his head at Song Tianyao's words. How was that possible? His cousin was the most literate young man in the Jialin Road Squatter Area. As a child, he had gone out of his way to learn to read and write from his grandfather. Even the pharmacy on the street sometimes asked his cousin to copy prescriptions when it got too busy. Since the beginning of the year, Uncle and Auntie had spread the news that his cousin was applying to the police school until everyone in the Squatter Area knew. Everyone there believed his cousin would become a policeman. And now his cousin was telling him he had failed? And was never allowed to apply again?
"Brother Yao, was it not enough money? I'll go borrow some from the brothers at the docks right away. If that's still not enough, we can borrow from a loan shark..." Zhao Wenye's mouth was trembling, and as he spoke, even his hands began to shake without his realizing it.
He knew all too well how important it was to have another policeman in the family. He had already told his boss at Sheung Wan Pier about it, and his boss had given his word: as long as Song Tianyao became a policeman, Uncle would no longer have to mend shoes every day and could help tally goods at the dock warehouse for a hundred and fifty dollars a month. Zhao Wenye himself could go from a laborer paid by the piece to a "tallyman" at the warehouse—a man who used wooden tally sticks to calculate the laborers' wages—earning at least ten dollars a day. Even Auntie could stop washing dishes and sweeping floors and get an easier, better-paying job at a teahouse.
"It wasn't about the money. I even offered three thousand words, and that bastard still ordered me straight out the door. There must be some other reason. Sooner or later, I'll find out what it is." Song Tianyao patted Zhao Wenye's shoulder with the hand holding his cigarette, speaking as if it were nothing.
A rickshaw pulled up beside them. Zhao Wenye still wanted to persuade his cousin to save the money. After all, the two thousand Hong Kong dollars had been borrowed, and since he hadn't gotten into police school, it had to be paid back to their neighbors and relatives. A rickshaw from the Southern District of Hong Kong Island to Central Pier would cost at least seventy cents. They might as well walk: seventy cents could buy two bowls of pig's blood congee to fill their stomachs, with ten cents left over. But seeing Song Tianyao's expression, Zhao Wenye lowered his head and said nothing.
"Central Pier," Song Tianyao told the rickshaw puller after Zhao Wenye had climbed aboard too.
The rickshaw's two wheels turned nimbly in a circle on the spot, their spokes making a series of soft sounds as they spun, carrying the two men toward Central Pier.
Central Pier stood at the narrowest point of Victoria Harbour, facing Tsim Sha Tsui across the water. The green-and-white Star Ferries shuttled back and forth between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon, carrying all sorts of people across the harbor.
The crossing was less than two kilometers and took only seven minutes. A boat departed every five minutes, charging one dollar per person, come wind or rain.
After boarding the Star Ferry, Song Tianyao gently patted the polished wooden-slat seat and turned to look at Hong Kong Island receding behind them, murmuring to himself:
"Be a policeman? Collect protection money? Nothing makes money as fast as doing business. Just the Star Ferry alone, at one dollar a head, earns more than ten thousand a day after costs. How long would a uniformed officer have to take dirty money to collect ten thousand?"
Chapter 2: The Many Faces of the Neighborhood
After getting off at Tsim Sha Tsui Pier, Zhao Wenye went straight to the freight depot to start work. Since his cousin hadn't become a policeman, he would have to keep doing hard labor.
Song Tianyao stood at the edge of the pier and watched his cousin go to the freight depot, take off his coat, and, bare-chested, approach the tallyman with an ingratiating smile and a few quiet words. He then took out a cigarette and lit it for the man. Only then did the tallyman wave a hand, signaling Zhao Wenye to go carry sacks in the back.
Hard labor at the docks was the first choice for many poor children from the bottom of society after failing to become police officers. Although factories for toys, plastic flowers, garments, and other industries were now being set up in places like Kwun Tong and North Point, not many young people went to work in them. Factories paid monthly, settling wages once a month, while the docks paid daily, so workers got their money faster. Most importantly, if poor children didn't want to be bullied, working as laborers at the docks made it easier to find a gang to join. Once they belonged to one, they only had to pay a little in dues each month or be willing to pitch in when the gang called people together to fight and seize control of the docks. Then, when they were bullied, the gang's people could back them up.
Song Tianyao walked unhurriedly along the road toward the Jialin Road Squatter Area. When he passed Chung Hau Street, he stopped at a roadside food stall for a plate of rice noodle rolls. Sitting there by the street, he ate while admiring the "pretty women" who swayed past from time to time, some in qipaos, stockings, and high heels, others in loose Tang skirts, their delicate bare feet in wooden clogs.