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Winfred Wong: Son of the Tank Man

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Winfred Wong Son of the Tank Man

Son of the Tank Man: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Ashton, son of The Tank Man, and his sister were forced to move to the Port in 1989. He was contented with his life in the Port, but everything changed on that day when he was deprived of the right to vote against the dissolution of the government, a plebiscite initiated by a group of people who called themselves freedom-pursuers. His grudge against those freedom-pursuers, who he deemed as a bunch of hypocrites, prompted him to leave the country and start a new life in the place where he was born despite others’ objections, but it turned out to be a journey that he could never forget. And the chance of telling this story has only come to him after he passed away.

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Winfred Wong

SON OF THE TANK MAN

A novel

CHAPTER ONE

My name is Ashton. I am now living in a peaceful and glorious place which is known as the house and has been living here for nearly two months – I know it should’ve been The House, but according to the words displayed on a pearly gate set before the house, the house should be the official name of it. In this place, we hardly have to worry about anything here and we can do whatever we want freely. There’s only one rule. We are strictly forbidden from doing anything that would make other people’s freedom shrink. Whoever break this rule will be exiled from this place permanently. But other than this, we can do all sort of things we wish, like getting married in a pond that would compel you to blurt out everything that comes to your mind, playing chess with a talking tiger and actually end up losing, inventing new games and challenging your friend to a ‘duel’, and whatever you can think of.

The only bad thing about this place is that not everyone is allowed to get through the pearly gate as it is so bulky – it’s literally the combined size of two aircraft carriers or even bigger – that only a man called Gradius can heave it open. And in order to persuade him to open it for you, you have to answer a question he raises, just one, and it’s usually a question that you have asked yourself once. And if you are able to come up with an answer that he finds ‘good’ enough, he will not only open the gate for you, but also he will help you retrieve one thing you love from the human world as a Gift he gives you.

But of course, my story doesn’t begin in a place this beautiful. And I can still remember there was a gust of howling wind coming through a window on that morning when my teeth were chattering with cold and when the shivering began to spread down to my toes.

At that time, I was perched comfortably on my second-hand leather sofa, the most costly thing I’d ever bought other than a phone, in my stuffy, gloomy living room, 200 square feet, with a glass of hot water on the arm of it, listening to the speech given by Prince Felix yesterday night.

“President Vincent Hobert, Distinguished Guests, Ladies and Gentlemen. Today is a day of celebration, not sorrow. Today is not only the New Year’s Eve, but also the day we finally attain freedom. This important and special ceremony marks the beginning of a new year and a new phase of Port Aroma’s history and also a major step forward in the history of mankind. In a few moments, the responsibilities and decision-making power of this government will be passed on to the people of Port Aroma, and the government will thereby be dissolved upon the arrival of the New Year. It’s a great change, but at the same time, a very essential step toward freedom.”

It was one of those chilly winter mornings I hated the most because the bitter coldness of the still air made it very difficult for me to wake up. I had to force myself to crawl out of my quilt immediately after I lifted up my eyelids – I would’ve used two toothpicks to keep my eyelids open so that I wouldn’t have a chance to fall back asleep again, but I would do it only if I weren’t able to sense pain – despite its willingness to stick close in order to make sure I wouldn’t be late for work. It wasn’t like I had never been late before, but on that day, I was entrusted with a special task to pick up someone.

“Switch off the radio. It’s seven o’clock on the first day of the new year,” my sister, lying on the upper bunk of a bunk bed, which the lower bunk belonged to me, situated to the left of the sofa, whimpered in a lazy but coarse tone of voice, which was quite the exact opposite to her usual lovely voice she’d adopt when she was chatting with some other boys, and it did divert my attention away from the radio for a moment.

Anyone else would have realized her disgruntlement, but it was the last thing on my mind. Perhaps I was too zeroed in on the radio, a habit that was deemed as a little peculiar in that era, which I had copied from my mum when I was little and had never ceased doing after then. My sister and Brian, my colleague and my best friend, had always asked me what was so intriguing about this tiny little box, but I never managed to come up with a decent reply. I guessed maybe I was just keen on listening to people babbling and prattling non-stop.

“It’s the firework display!” I said when a sound of explosion drew my attention back to the radio again.

“Turn it off! You idiot!” she protested in a sober tone and heaved out a long sigh, probably because I showed no intention of moving at all. “I am going to come down and hit you in the face, you idiot.”

I bet she hated me as much as I hated the coldness at that time because, if I remember correctly, that was the first time in my life I had ignored her, although I would say that our sister-brother relationship had never been bad; we are just somehow used to and both silently agreed to talking in a way that it would give others who don’t know us well enough a wrong impression about our relationship. And to make it worse, it was the first day of a new year, which to her, was supposed to be flawless.

“Wait, let me hear his whole speech.”

“Give me that ten thousand dollars you owe me, or you turn it off!” she shouted. “Turn it off now!”

She sounded like she was on the edge of falling apart, but it didn’t concern me.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I should like on behalf of President Vincent Hobert and of everyone who served in the government to express our thanks, admiration, affection and good wishes to all the people of Port Aroma, and to pay tribute to the people of Port Aroma themselves for all that they have achieved in the last century and a half. Without them, the miraculous rapid economic growth over the last few decades would have never been possible. And, at this precise moment, I hereby declare the dissolution of the government. I—”

I would’ve been able to see that coming if not for the brain-freezing coldness. But being too concentrated on listening, I didn’t even realize she had already climbed down the ladder from the upper bunk and by the time I realized, she had already thumbed off my favorite matchbox radio with two antennas atop, which I had been using ever since we were forced to immigrate to this country, I placed on the dining table in the exact center of the living room, the best position for the best signal.

“What are you doing!? Don’t you want to know what happened at the ceremony?”

“What are you doing!? Don’t act like you care now. You didn’t even cast your vote last year!” she said, as she was striding back to the bunk bed.

“Unsympathetic alcoholic,” I murmured, then retorted. “Don’t ask me to pick you up and take you home the next time you are drunk! And just to let you know, I will be leaving this country soon.”

“What? What do you mean? Leaving this country?” she said, on her way up the ladder to her bed, and by a twist of fate, bumped her forehead into the corner of a framed photo hanging on the wall depicting our father standing in front of a line of tanks, which was widely considered as one of the most influential images of all time, yet I couldn’t disagree more for what it had evolved into recently – one of the tokens of freedom greatly honored by a bunch of hypocrites, who called themselves freedom-pursuers and had everything to do with the dissolution of the government.

I was never a freedom-pursuer myself, or more precisely, I was dead against them as described by Brian, yet a part of me always found it awkward for him to say that, probably because he always held up to his principle of being politically neutral himself. Never did I hear him express himself in regard to anything political. But the main point was I really doubted if a politically neutral man could understand why I was against them. It wasn’t like I couldn’t understand the significance of freedom, but they had gone too far by voting to have the government dissolved just because of that.

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