As they neared Kowloon, the sky gradually darkened.
At first, it was only a few needle-thin threads, striking the little round cabin window with almost no sound.
By the time the small steamer blew its whistle and pulled up to the pier at Kowloon Wharf, the rain had grown dense, kneading the coal ash on the docks into black sludge.
Kowloon Wharf's pier had been built by the British, with concrete pillars and an iron-framed roof. In these times, it counted as one of the grandest harbors in the Far East.
Boats crowded both sides of the pier, hull pressed against hull, while boatmen darted back and forth between them over gangplanks.
"Make way... make way..."
A boatman in a short, front-buttoned jacket brushed past Chen Mo, two crates of matches balanced on his shoulder.
A row of rickshaw pullers squatted near the dock exit, waiting for business.
Their rickshaws were parked outside the rain shelter, pattering beneath the downpour.
Several pullers huddled against the wall. Some wore straw rain capes, while others simply went bareheaded in the rain, craning their necks toward the pier exit.
"Sir, need a ride..."
"Yau Ma Tei, Mong Kok, Tsim Sha Tsui—anywhere you want..."
Li Shun hailed an empty rickshaw for Chen Mo.
The puller was a lean, wiry middle-aged man, his cheekbones jutting high from his face. His trouser legs were rolled up to his knees, exposing two thick, dark calves weathered by the sea wind.
"Where to?"
"Yau Ma Tei, Temple Street."
The puller nodded and pressed down on the shafts.
Chen Mo climbed in, setting the wicker suitcase on his knees. He waved at Li Shun in farewell.
The puller lifted the shafts and ran down the wet asphalt road, taking him deeper into Kowloon.
The dock district soon fell behind