The aroma of tomato and egg stir-fry filled Kaishin and Ugen’s home on a quiet holiday morning. “We have to go out as soon as we eat this. Today is Zhiqing’s important piano recital,” Kaishin said, bustling in the kitchen. Ugen, wiping his wet hair with a towel, sifted through newspapers in the living room, and found a letter addressed to them.
“What’s wrong?” Kaishin asked, noticing the look on Ugen’s face as he read the letter.
“It’s a letter from Junyu,” Ugen replied.
Kaishin knew Junyu. He was a close childhood friend to both her and Ugen. While they had all grown up together, Junyu was the studious one, going on to university. However, his path diverged significantly when he became deeply involved in Hong Kong’s liberalization movement. Five years ago, after participating in protests and facing multiple arrests, he had left Hong Kong.
“It seems he’s not in Hong Kong right now,” Ugen continued, reading the letter. “It says he’s working in trading.”
“I wonder if he’s doing well,” Kaishin mused, a hint of concern in her voice.
As their three-year-old, Zhiqing, ate her late breakfast, Kaishin prompted, “Have you memorized the song?”
“Yes,” Zhiqing confidently replied, scooping a piece of tomato with her spoon. But the tomato slipped, landing squarely on Junyu’s letter. Without a word, Ugen picked up the letter, wrapped the tomato in it, and silently discarded it in the trash. The simple act underscored a truth that had settled over Hong Kong, much like the “dark shadow” described by veteran lawmaker Regina Ip Lau Suk-yee in September 2023 when she tried to explain the city’s changes to European Union officials.
Following Beijing’s imposition of a sweeping national security law in 2020 and subsequent electoral reforms ensuring only “patriots” ruled, a negative narrative had taken root globally – that Hong Kong had become a police state where no one was safe. This perception, fueled by reports of diplomats and business people being advised to carry burner phones, had blanketed the city in a gloomy tale of its past romanticized and its future seemingly over. Junyu’s departure, and the quiet disposal of his letter, silently echoed the profound and complex changes that had reshaped not just Hong Kong’s political landscape, but also the lives of those who called it home.
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms
5 years after national security law, has Hong Kong bounced back?
Comments