In the city of Hong Kong, a city that never sleeps, people generally keep late hours.
Shops like Yi Ji that open early and close early are rare, mostly because the owner’s younger sister has to go to school, so the shop’s hours are adjusted to match people’s biological clocks.
At this time in the mainland, breakfast vendors are probably already set up, ready to greet the first customer against the hazy white of the eastern dawn.
But Kowloon, usually bustling with traffic and noise at night, is now sound asleep.
The mornings in this city are unexpectedly quiet.
In the haunted house, Jiayi sits on the sofa, gazing out the window at the dimly lit city, watching as it slowly gets enveloped and then clears from the fog.
The morning light outlines the silhouette of the steel behemoths; on closer inspection, the deadly silent buildings in their sleep seem somewhat terrifying.
Jiayi clenches her fists, motionless, unsure whether she’s afraid that any sound might drown out the low rumbling noise, or if it might wake the wronged spirits residing in this house.
Probably having sat too long, she feels stiff. When a noise suddenly arises in the distance and gradually gets closer, Jiayi even suspects it’s tinnitus from her own desperate desire to hear that sound.
Until the noise gets closer and clearer.
“Rumble, rumble, rumble…” After the sounds stop, there are other minute noises, followed by click-clack sounds and some miscellaneous noises.
Just like what she heard in the flowing imagery!
Jiayi suddenly springs up from the sofa, disregarding her dizziness, and rushes to the window to look down.
A small one-ton truck rumbles to a stop downstairs, and two elderly people get out and head towards the garbage bins to drag them.
Jiayi’s pupils constrict, she takes a deep breath, and then runs outside.
Most communities in Hong Kong use large, automatic garbage trucks, usually driven by middle-aged or younger people, and only start their rounds after daylight to collect trash along the way.
Many communities are at the back of the line, waiting until later in the morning to have the overnight trash, reeking of sourness, hauled away.
Old people coming to collect trash around 5 a.m. before dawn, especially not using the usual large trucks, are indeed rare!
When Jiayi approaches the two elderly people, they too are startled. The advantage of working early in the morning is not having to encounter people, just quietly going about their business without interference.
As Jiayi steps forward to identify herself and asks some questions, the elderly show clear aversion.
They neither like to talk nor want any trouble.
With a lot of work on their hands, they really don’t want to deal with others. Thus, the old man simply bypasses Jiayi, continues moving stuff, pushing the garbage truck to the back of the truck while deliberately shaking the garbage bin to disperse the stench everywhere.
Jiayi fans away the stench and goes on to ask the grandma, who is squatting in the truck bed picking out recyclable materials like plastic bottles.
The other party pretended to be deaf and mute, with their hands covered in coarse hemp gloves, occasionally picking up a bag of stinky fruit peels and at other times discarding a bag of fish bones and leftover pork bones.
Jiayi was frustrated on both ends and stood in place for a while before suddenly walking to the garbage truck that an old man nearby was about to push, taking the initiative to pull out the block and then struggling to push it toward the truck.
Only after the old man had dumped another garbage truck and turned around to see Jiayi mimicking his actions and dumping behind him, did he notice that she was able to return the empty garbage truck to its spot even faster than he did, before pushing another one.
In this way, the old man’s workload was reduced by more than half.
After Jiayi had cleaned all the nearby trash bins, leaving the old man with no trucks to push, she jumped onto the garbage truck, mimicking the grandmother’s manner, sitting on the edge of the truck bed. From a small bag hanging at the front of the truck, she took out a pair of coarse hemp gloves, put them on, and then bent over, enduring the stench, to pick through the trash.
The two elderly people watched her bustling about, and although they felt helpless, they did not drive her away.
The old man returned to the driver’s seat, started the truck, and drove towards another row of buildings.
Jiayi, holding onto the edge of the truck bed, continued her work.
After several rounds, the two elders realized that the female police officer was not merely going through the motions, but was genuinely helping. The old grandmother glanced at the time; today, thanks to the young person’s involvement, they had saved nearly half an hour.
The job of collecting garbage in this community was secured through family connections and provided a stable income, which they cherished. Usually, after collecting the trash, they would sell the sorted recyclables at home, dispose of the garbage at the landfill, and then return home for breakfast.
In the morning, they would make snacks, and during the busy lunch and dinner times, they would move their mobile vending cart near Portland Street to sell snacks, earning enough money to live comfortably.
This sudden early finish to their workday, with an extra young female officer on board, puzzled the two elders. Seeing her stance of ‘not leaving without a chat’, they had no choice but to take her home with them.
The small truck parked under the dilapidated buildings of the old housing area, and Jiayi eagerly watched the two elders.
Seeing her genuine effort, they finally waved her over, calling her into the house to join them for breakfast and a chat.
Jiayi also followed into the kitchen, picking the dirty and tiring tasks to do. After helping the elders with breakfast, she finally sat down at the table and asked her question.
Although it was an incident from a few days ago, the elders usually worked at unusual hours and rarely saw anyone, so they distinctly remembered seeing a figure in the early morning of the 28th:
“It was a woman, very tall, probably half a head taller than me, coming out of the building you mentioned.”
“Long hair, yes. It was very dark at the time, seemed like black. Definitely dark-colored hair. The hair wasn’t curly, definitely not brown, and certainly not red.”
“I can’t tell if it’s the person in this photo you’re showing, it was too dark, and I could only see a blurry figure.”
“There was nothing special, we were focused on our work, why would we keep staring at her?”
“Stop talking about it, try these fish balls.”
At grandma’s urging, Jiayi picked up a freshly fried, sizzling hot fish ball, dipped in soy sauce and sweet seafood sauce.
Jiayi hissed in pain from the heat, yet couldn’t bear to let go; the balls were deliciously tender and tasty.
After swallowing one, she grabbed another, this time fully soaked in curry. The first bite filled her mouth with spicy sauce, followed by the savory taste of the fish.
Seeing her enjoyment, the two elders smiled, their faces wrinkled with happiness and a bit of pride.
A diner’s engagement is always the strongest praise for a chef.
After a hearty breakfast, the two elders started making snacks.
Perfectly sized, tender white fish balls; dark, sticky ‘chicken poop fruits’; large dumplings, two of which could fill a bowl… all ready for their street food stall.
Jiayi, seeking more clues, continued to help.
While working, she asked questions freely, trying to capture a spark of inspiration, seeking more details from the vague memories of the elderly.
“We leave every day around four in the morning, and the community residents are happy too, they don’t want to encounter us either.”
“That day, that woman didn’t seem to throw anything in the trash.”
“We didn’t see anyone else that day either, except for a drunkard on his way home, but there was nothing special about that.”
After chatting for a while, just as Jiayi felt she couldn’t uncover anything more and was about to turn away, old grandma, watching the water rushing over the little girl’s hands, suddenly said:
“Ah, there seems to be one thing, that woman was wearing gloves.”
“!” Jiayi’s eyes widened immediately, she wiped her hands on her clothes, and hurried back to the table to grab her notebook, asking as she wrote:
“What color, what material? Was there any special mark?”
The two elders tried hard to remember, and finally managed to piece together a rough description of the rubber gloves.
Jiayi was so happy she almost jumped up to hug the elders, and even paid out of her own pocket for several more fish balls, asking them to sign the record book before she left, overjoyed.
A miraculous morning, an unexpected event bursting into the ordinary daily life of the two elders.
Vibrant and sensible, resilient and adorable.
…
Footnotes:
“Chicken poop fruits,” also known as “Parkia speciosa” or “stink beans,” are a type of edible bean from Southeast Asia, commonly found in dishes from Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia. The name might sound off-putting, but it refers to the seeds’ resemblance to chicken droppings in appearance, not taste.
Aah, petai. Its real stink, i dislike it.. even durian the so called stinky fruit has 100x better smell.