Gung Hei Fat Choy

Night descended upon the streets of Beijing and the first moon rose high in the sky to greet the coming New Year. Outside the Liu Family house, lights flashed as people said goodbye to the old year and welcomed the new one. As always, the familiar sound of firecrackers filled the Hutong.
Inside the Liu house, the clatter of dishes filled the air as everyone gathered in the kitchen. Every holiday Mrs. Liu assigned jobs to each of her children. Ying set up chairs and arranged furniture for the guests while Lien-Hua was in charge of coats.
Ying went downstairs and picked up some chairs. He set them up in the living room and the sewing room. As he did, Auntie May interrupted his work.
“Ying, someone wants to see you,” said Auntie May.
”I wonder who that could be,” he replied.
Miss Yan stood on the porch, wearing her floppy hat and bundled in a long, flowing coat. Her cheeks blushed in the cold winter wind.
“Gung Hei Fat Choy, Ying!” exclaimed Miss Yan.
“Gung Hei Fat Choy,” he replied.
“Can I come in? I have a gift for you and your sister.”
“You do?”
Miss Yan pulled two red envelopes from her purse and held them high.
“Lucky money!” he exclaimed. New Year’s was one of the few times Ying got overly excited. Aunts and Uncles gave him red envelopes; each one filled with crisp new dollar bills.
“There’s one red envelope for you and one red envelope for your sister.”
Lien-Hua ran up and collected her envelope from Miss Yan. She ran her finger under the seam and burst it open.
Lien-Hua pulled out the dollar bills and counted them, “One, two, three, four! Thank you, Miss Yan.”
“Thank you, Miss Yan,” repeated Ying.
“You don’t have to use my proper name. You can call me Jing.”
“Thank you, Jing.”
“Jing, it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you. Would you like to stay for dinner? ” asked Mrs. Liu.
“I can only stay for a bit. I’m meeting friends at Tiananmen Square.”
Ying took Miss Yan’s coat while Mrs. Liu filled a plate for her.
Everyone filled their plates with the many dishes Mrs. Liu had prepared. Grandpa Jong finally had his chance to pick more skin off the Peking Duck while Ying got his first taste. Relatives filled plate after plate until only the duck’s skeleton remained.
After dinner, people filtered from room to room, catching up with family. In the sewing room, Grandma Mei had picked up her Pipa and began strumming while cousins clapped and sang along.
In the living room, the mood was quiet and still. Auntie May and Mrs. Liu shared stores about the last year of their lives.
“How is the Opera House?” asked Auntie May.
“It’s going well. We just finished another show and are getting ready
Lien-Hua laid in the middle of the floor with Auntie May’s daughter. Red Tangram tiles were scatted between them and a small stack of cards sat next to Lien-Hua. The girls took turns drawing red Tangram tiles and trying to create the design on the top card. Ying leaned against the couch and watched the girls.
Just then, Bo Li appeared at the front door, holding a large cake.
“Gung Hei Fat Choy!” he said.
“You came at just the right time. We cleared a cake-sized spot on the buffet table,” said Grandpa Jong.
“You lead, I’ll follow,” said Bo.
“Where’s your father?”
“He’s keeping Yum Cha open until midnight.”
“How did you get out of working tonight?” asked Grandpa Jong.
“I’m going to Tiananment Square and Tiananmen Square for the celebrations. Very few people go to teahouses on New Years Eve,” replied Bo.
“I just might have to pay him a visit,” said Grandpa Jong.
“I think he would like that very much,” said Bo.
Ying followed them into the kitchen and watched as Bo sliced the cake. He returned to the living room and sat next to Auntie May. He enjoyed the cake as the ladies continued their conversation.
Auntie May leaned over and grinned at Ying. He fed her a bite.
“That’s so moist,” said Auntie May.
“That’s because they mix fresh pears into the filling,” replied Ying.
“Can you help me start up a game of Mahjong?” whispered Auntie May.
“I’ll help you set up the table but I’m not playing.”
“Not playing?”
“I don’t like Mahjong.”
“What Chinese boy doesn’t like Mahjongg?”
“I don’t like Mahjong?” scowled Auntie May.
“I don’t like Mahjong,” replied Grandpa.
“Shame on you! It’s your name! How can you possibly not like Mahjong?”
“I’m not fond of it either,” added Mr. Liu.
“Some mess this is.”
Ying dug the card table from the hall closet and unfolded the legs. Auntie May grabbed one end of the table and flipped it upright.
“Who will play Mahjong?” asked Auntie May.
“I’ll play with you, May,” replied Mrs. Liu.
“Bao, I haven’t played with you in quite some while.”
When Auntie May visited was one of the few times Ying heard to his mother referred to by her first name. The rest of the family called her Lien; the nickname Grandpa Jong gave her as a child when she chased butterflies in the flower gardens.
“Can I play?” asked Lien-Hua.
“Do you know how?” asked Auntie May.
“I’ve been learning.”
“Fine, then you can sit across from me, but we still need a fourth.”
“I could play one game,” said Miss Yan. She sat down across from Mrs. Liu.
“Here we are,” said Auntie May as she touched Jing’s hand. She also reached out to her sister. The four women linked hands as Auntie May said a prayer. It was always Auntie May’s personal custom to say an opening prayer before a game of Mahjong, “I will be the East Wind and my sister will be North Wind. We blow separately, yet work together. The movement of one will deterime the reaction of the others.”
They took turns throwing dice to determine the dealer. Mrs. Liu rolled three sixes.
“The North Wind is the prevailing Wind. A cool breeze blows.”
“May you’re so dramatic,” sighed Mrs. Liu as she dealt the tiles. They clinked on the table as she mixed them.
Everyone laughed and played as Ying watched them. As always, there was something else on Ying’s mind.
“Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I was thinking about Tiananmen Square.”
“You know how I feel about that.”
“Well, I was just thinking, since Bo is going, maybe I could go with him.”
“Ying, you don’t go inviting yourself to other people’s events. What if he has other plans?”
“I would be happy to take him,” said Miss Yan. Ying smiled brightly.
“I guess it’s okay,” said his mother.
“How about me?” asked Lien-Hua.
“The girls will go with go with us,” said Auntie May. She picked up her purse and pulled out several red envelopes.
“We were going to wait until the New Year, but you’ll need this if you want to buy something at Tiananmen Square.” Auntie May handed out the red envelopes to all of the children. Grandma Mei and Mrs. Liu also gave red envelopes to each of the children.
The girls quickly tore through their red envelopes and gathered their money. Lien-Hua held hers in the air while she did a little dance. Ying careful peeled back the flap on his envelopes, to reveal crisp dollar bills. Ying counted them out: One – Two – Three – Four.”
“Yng, I’m going to give you two more. Six stands for responsibility. I want you to remember that,” said Mrs. Liu.
“I will.”
“Bao, the boy will be fine,” said Auntie May.
Ying took his lucky money and divided it into two parts. One part he put into his pocket for Tiananmen Square. He took the other to his bedroom and folded it in half. He tucked that part under Ge’s cricket cage.
“You take care of this for me, alright?” Ying said to his cricket. The cricket chirped as if to say, ‘It will be safe with me.”
Ying returned to the living room, where everyone was getting ready for midnight. The mahjong tiles and the Tangram pieces had been put away. Auntie May and Mrs. Liu stood next to the kitchen sink, washing dishes. Grandma Mei had even put down her Pipa.
“Lien-Hua, get everyone’s coats.” Lien-Hua ran to her bedroom and returned with a bundle of coats. The coats piled high in her arms, making Lien-Hua look more like a coat monster than anything else. People grabbed their coats and put them on, lightening the little girl’s load.
“Is everyone ready?” asked Auntie May.
“I need to go to the washroom,” replied Bo.
As Bo disappeared to the washroom, Auntie May approached Jing.
“He’s very nice, isn’t he?” Auntie May asked her.
“He’s nice,” replied Jing.
“You know, he’s single and he’s going to Tienanmen Square, too.”
“May, leave her alone,” said Mrs. Liu.
“She’s single. Bo is single. This is the time of the year where we look out for the future generations, right?”
“She can handle herself,” said Ying’s mother. Jing chuckled as she bundled her coat and headed for the door.
“Don’t worry about me. Ying’s my date tonight,” answered Jing. She held out an arm, waiting for Ying to walk her to Tiananmen Square. Just then, Bo returned to the living room.
“It looks like you’re on your own, young man,” said Grandpa Jong. Everyone chuckled silently then made their way into the Hutong.
The canopy of lights strung over the Hutong gave a golden glow to the faces crowding the street. People buzzed about, waiting for the New Year. Firecrackers exploded all around them, filling the Hutong with noise.
The group walked to the end of the Hutong, which opened into the street that led to Tiananmen Square. The street was filled with cars and bicycles. Grandpa Jong put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The shrill sound tweeted above the crack of fireworks.
Several taxes stopped in front of the group. Ying got into one taxi with Bo and Jing, while Lien-Hua got into a bus with the rest of the cousins.
Lanterns hanging from streetlamps swayed in the bitter winter wind. Tiananmen Square was filled with people, too. The cab stopped in front of the Tiananmen Square, where Ying walked between Jing and Bo, on their way to Tiananmen Gate.
A line formed at the gate, leading up the stairs and into the large building. As they entered the building, a man collected admission. Ying dug into his pocket, gut Jing pushed it away.
“Let me pay for this,” said Jing. Ying tucked his money back into his pocket and followed Bo and Jing into Tiananmen Square.
A mass of people gathered in the Square. Ying had never seen Tiananmen Square this crowded. He stood at the top of the stairs leading down into the square. A voice came over the loudspeakers.
“It’s almost midnight!” Jing shouted. The noisy crowd gtrew louder as they began counting down towards the New Year.
“Six – Five – Four – Three – Two – One!”
“Gung Hei Fat Choy!” everyone shouted. Jing kissed Ying on the cheek and kissed Bo, too. It was a blessing of good luck for the New Year.
Fireworks and Roman Candles shot into the air of Tiananmen Square. People sang, danced and cheered. The sound of the firecrackers popping was as loud as ever..
As an old man swept one area clean, more firecrackers took their place. The firecrackers popped and unraveled. The square was filled with paper firework wrappers and streamers. At one point, everyone covered the ears to protect from the loud noises.
“You ready to go home?” Bo shouted.
“Already?”
“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Ying.”
“Wow, the time just flied by!”
Jing said goodbye to the boys as they left Tiananmen Square. They exited through the Gate and found a taxi. As the taxi whisked them home, Ying leaned his head against the window, watching the fireworks fizz and crackle in the air. Fire Snakes circled in the air, leaving a smoke trail behind. Ying inhaled, taking in the smell of sulfur and used gunpowder.
“Did you have fun tonight?” asked Bo.
“I’m glad I got to go with you and Jing. Mom wouldn’t have let us go into Tiananmen Square. She says there are too many fireworks and its too dangerous.”
“It can be at times, you just have to know where the safe areas are,”
“Thank you, Bo,” said Ying.
“Anytime Ying.”
Ying rested his head on the window again, watching the people outside his window. Finally, the taxi came up to the Hutong where Ying lived. He got out and ran home, where everyone had already fell asleep, except Grandma Mei.
“Hello, Ying,” she greeted from her sewing chair.
“Hello Grandma Mei.”
“Gung Hei Fat Choy,” she said.
“Gung Hei Fat Choy,” replied Ying.He went to bed and laid in the silence, his ears ringing with the sound of fireworks. Ge chirped silently. It was the perfect song to begin a New Year.