On the edges of the street a stream of people walked and flowed through. Some were busy buying their wares from the open wooden stalls that surrounded the street, while some stalls were in the process of being opened for the morning trade. The middle of the stone cobbled street was cramped with rickshaw carts, their drivers and their passengers. The carts seemed to move only an inch every minute due to the pedestrians who overflowed the street. Such was a congested street.
Liu pulled his rickshaw slowly in the crawling paced traffic. His wooden wheels rolled over the stone-built path which was worn out, with constant holes and tiny craters in it. His passenger was a Gweilo, a foreigner. However. unlike other foreigners, this one sat silently on his seat, dressed not in the strange clothing of a pant and a buttoned shirt, but of a purple silk robe. The lapel of his robe stretched from his left collar going to the right of his skirt, and a sash was tied around his hip. The purple robe was embroidered with a golden outline of flowers and petals. Such were the latest style of fashion which even the nobles dressed in.
Dredging his ricksha he pulled it out of the street, and Liu slowly began to change his pace from a walk to a jog, pulling the cart as the Gweilo looked on ahead with his white skin hidden under a cylindrical hat with a flat board on top from which hung beads; a Mianguan hat. So expensive was this hat that only the richest of the nobles were able to afford it.
His passenger sat with his legs outstretched and his arms resting on his laps, with his back erect. This was a posture of a patient man noted Liu. Truly this was an interesting Gweilo.
As Liu dredged forward two cycles appeared in front of him from a gully lane. The men sat on the black worn out seat and pedaled forward. Both the cyclist wore rough cotton robes and their heads were covered with a cheap tapering hat. Workmen off to work, thought Liu to himself. Thinking back, Liu felt he should have noticed it. The cycles slowly eased back from ahead arriving at the side of Liu’s rickshaw. When the event occurred, it took Liu a whole minute to realize what had transpired.
The Gweilo sat on the ricksha waiting patiently as it proceeded through the traffic. He sat still, not moving throughout the journey, but his eyeballs kept darting about in his socket, looking about.
He noticed the cyclists, as they slowly and conveniently positioned themselves beside the ricksha he sat in. He dug his fingers in his knees. He was not sure, he would wait for them to make their move first, if they were who he thought they were. Suddenly both the cyclists lifted their hands off the handle bar. Their right hand slipped into their left sleeve. Without hesitation, the gweilo jerked his hands from his lap and pulled it up through the air. His right hand rose up to the right and his left hand rose up to the left. The springs on his wrists were already in motion as two small single barrel pistols appeared in his hands from his sleeves. Without hesitation and without wasting a second, his fingers pulled the triggers.
‘Boom’
Both the cyclist tumbled off their seats and they were thrown to the ground. The gweilo ignored the stunned ricksha driver and the civilians who began to flee from the area at the sound of the pistols. He jumped off the ricksha and went at first to the one on the right. He ripped opened his robe. A dragon tattoo was painted across his chest. He dipped his hand into the left sleeve and from it he pulled out a small arrow head.
He then hopped on to the left to the other cyclist finding a small arrow head in his left sleeve.
The gweilo pulled out a leather pouch which gave out a clinking noise of the jingling of coins.
He dangled it in front of the stunned ricksha driver. “A hundred silver coins if you complete the journey”, offered the gweilo speaking in fluid Cantonese.
The ricksha driver fumbled and mumbled for a moment before he could give his answer. He stretched out his hand and grabbed the pouch. The gweilo sat back on his seat and Liu raised the bars of the ricksha on his shoulder and continued pulling.
Liu pulled his rickshaw slowly in the crawling paced traffic. His wooden wheels rolled over the stone-built path which was worn out, with constant holes and tiny craters in it. His passenger was a Gweilo, a foreigner. However. unlike other foreigners, this one sat silently on his seat, dressed not in the strange clothing of a pant and a buttoned shirt, but of a purple silk robe. The lapel of his robe stretched from his left collar going to the right of his skirt, and a sash was tied around his hip. The purple robe was embroidered with a golden outline of flowers and petals. Such were the latest style of fashion which even the nobles dressed in.
Dredging his ricksha he pulled it out of the street, and Liu slowly began to change his pace from a walk to a jog, pulling the cart as the Gweilo looked on ahead with his white skin hidden under a cylindrical hat with a flat board on top from which hung beads; a Mianguan hat. So expensive was this hat that only the richest of the nobles were able to afford it.
His passenger sat with his legs outstretched and his arms resting on his laps, with his back erect. This was a posture of a patient man noted Liu. Truly this was an interesting Gweilo.
As Liu dredged forward two cycles appeared in front of him from a gully lane. The men sat on the black worn out seat and pedaled forward. Both the cyclist wore rough cotton robes and their heads were covered with a cheap tapering hat. Workmen off to work, thought Liu to himself. Thinking back, Liu felt he should have noticed it. The cycles slowly eased back from ahead arriving at the side of Liu’s rickshaw. When the event occurred, it took Liu a whole minute to realize what had transpired.
The Gweilo sat on the ricksha waiting patiently as it proceeded through the traffic. He sat still, not moving throughout the journey, but his eyeballs kept darting about in his socket, looking about.
He noticed the cyclists, as they slowly and conveniently positioned themselves beside the ricksha he sat in. He dug his fingers in his knees. He was not sure, he would wait for them to make their move first, if they were who he thought they were. Suddenly both the cyclists lifted their hands off the handle bar. Their right hand slipped into their left sleeve. Without hesitation, the gweilo jerked his hands from his lap and pulled it up through the air. His right hand rose up to the right and his left hand rose up to the left. The springs on his wrists were already in motion as two small single barrel pistols appeared in his hands from his sleeves. Without hesitation and without wasting a second, his fingers pulled the triggers.
‘Boom’
Both the cyclist tumbled off their seats and they were thrown to the ground. The gweilo ignored the stunned ricksha driver and the civilians who began to flee from the area at the sound of the pistols. He jumped off the ricksha and went at first to the one on the right. He ripped opened his robe. A dragon tattoo was painted across his chest. He dipped his hand into the left sleeve and from it he pulled out a small arrow head.
He then hopped on to the left to the other cyclist finding a small arrow head in his left sleeve.
The gweilo pulled out a leather pouch which gave out a clinking noise of the jingling of coins.
He dangled it in front of the stunned ricksha driver. “A hundred silver coins if you complete the journey”, offered the gweilo speaking in fluid Cantonese.
The ricksha driver fumbled and mumbled for a moment before he could give his answer. He stretched out his hand and grabbed the pouch. The gweilo sat back on his seat and Liu raised the bars of the ricksha on his shoulder and continued pulling.
