Mr Wong Goes West (34 page)

But then he stopped short, his jaw dropping.

Among the squeals from the crowd were calls of ‘Daddy, Daddy,’ from tiny voices he thought he knew. It couldn’t be, could it?

‘Martha? Marianne?’

He saw his ex-wife, standing waiting for him as everyone else melted away, one of their daughters in front of her, the other perched on her shoulders. ‘Vanessa. Hi.’

His steps speeded up, as did his heartbeat. ‘Hello, my darlings.’ He ran over as fast as he could, and kissed all three of them, in tears for the first time in years.

In the beginning of creation, the Red God and the Blue God were choosing their elements. Two gifts lay on the altar for them. A bottle of water and a burning candle.

The Red God was more kindly than the Blue God, and allowed him to choose first.

The Blue God said: ‘I choose water. It cannot harm me.’

The Red God was left with fire. He picked it up carefully and held it at a distance.

As the gods’ party started, the Blue God shared his water with everyone else. But every time he filled a glass, he noticed his vessel becoming emptier.

The Red God lit everyone’s candle. But the more he shared his fire, the more fire there was.

Blade of Grass, many folktales tell stories of bottomless jars. Such things really exist, and are there to be found.

From ‘Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom’
by CF Wong.

N
URY
V
ITTACHI
did not win the Vogel for his first novel, was not shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize with his subsequent books, and has never been nominated for a Nobel Prize for Literature. ‘I hope to make it a clean sweep by not winning the Pulitzer next year,’ the Hong Kong-based novelist said.