A black-bearded pirate with a cleaver chased Jasmine into wakefulness. She’d been run, run, running along a beach but he was catching up on her. She could feel his breath on her neck. ‘Help! Gramps!’ she cried.
Gramps was in the kitchen next door cooking their morning congee. ‘Anything wrong?’ he called, sprinkling a handful of fish glue and fungus over the bubbling rice porridge. Mmm, it smelled delicious. Jasmine got up.
‘Your great-great grandpa was a pirate,’ said Gramps, between slurps. ‘In Qing dynasties, hundreds of them prowled local waters. Fights and raids were common. Little girls like you needed had gramps like me to take care of them.’
Jasmine shivered. How lucky she was to be living in the twenty-first century. There were only three MTR stops from Ho Man Tin to Mr. Crew Man, for example.
No seats on the train but Jasmine looked for information about Cheung Po Tsai on her app: leader of the Red Banner fleet. He became so rich that his cave wasn’t big enough to store his treasure. It’s believed there’s a secret entrance to a second cave.
The ferris wheel was packed with holiday makers smiling and waving from their capsules. Jasmine wondered if it was only capsule number eight that was magic when - whoosh! – she landed on Cheung Chau. The last time she’d seen there was on TV with boys racing up a tower for the Bun Festival.
Jasmine and Gramps walked through a scary cemetery to reach the cave. The hollow itself was surprisingly small and smelt fishy. Jasmine didn’t dare to go deep inside.
But – hurrah!- there was the next envelope, hanging from the roof of the cave: it is somewhere where your wishes may come true, she read.
The next letter of the message was E.
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