Yeung Hak Keung was dead.

The newspaper headlines weren't lying for once. Yan smirked. How many people had been waiting for this day to come?

Hak Gor had always wanted the world to remember him and the legacy he'd leave behind. In a twist of fate, he'd gotten what he'd wanted. It had always been like that, even when he was young: he was the golden child, and she was the odd one out—the black sheep of the family.

Yan scoffed. My, how the tables had turned.

The woman ran a hand through her graying hair, masked with shades of vibrant rainbow dye. She reclined in Hak's (no, it was her) office swivel chair and took her feet off the mahogany desk. Yan's feet accidentally knocked over the golden dragon statue, and it landed with a resounding thump into the trash can. She let out a laugh at the irony—sweet, sweet, irony that had now given her so much power—and the sheer absurdity of it all.

The woman turned around to face the outside world. Yan believed the window on the eighty-eighth floor of the Global Commerce Building offered the best view of Cantonesia's harbor. Skyscrapers reached for the clouds in an effort to populate the skyline, smothering the natural landscape in exchange for a booming economy. The silhouettes of the old mountains silently watched the peninsula grow for centuries, biding their time before Mother Earth was forgotten. In exchange for the verdant flora, bright green netting covered polished bamboo stalks lining the sides of old buildings still undergoing reconstruction. If she squinted, Yan could see the sheets moving in the wind. She watched the purple taxis speed in between the metal giants noiselessly.

Yan waited for a moment in silence. Then, she heard Cantonesia.

Automated beeps and clicks arose through the traffic-filled streets below: monotonous sounds of doors opening and closing, heels clicking on the pavement. There was a whooshing of wind as a motorbike sped by, chasing after a Ferrari that revved its engine up through the winding hills towards the residential districts. Yan thought it was much too...quiet. Gone were the days when the city erupted around her in a symphony of real noise. 

She could still remember when the sounds of men cursing on the streets intertwined with the angry honks at a stoplight not far away. The cacophony in the wet market refused to disappoint. Sze-lais* and vendors argued (unabashedly) loudly over the price of a grouper, haggling for the best prices. And where were the shouts to hail a red taxi? When was the last time she'd heard the laughter of exuberant children and the familiar tune of the ice cream truck? Humans were far too reliant on technology to maintain order. The little chaos that came with the din wouldn't hurt—after all, Yan's family thrived on it.

Once upon a time, even before she'd arrived, the Bauhinias had taken root across the harbor amidst the erratic music of the city. Yan's father transported them to the Global Commerce Building. Hak Keung had brought his ambition and turned a mere family triad into an underground organization that spanned continents. To this day, she still didn't know how Hak Gor had managed to achieve so much on pure ambition. All she knew was that the Yeungs had sacrificed too much to become the Bauhinias.

The late afternoon sunshine crept in through the side of the window, nearly blinding Yan for a moment.

"He never even turned to look at this," Yan murmured. "Wasted opportunity."

And how many opportunities had Hak Keung singlehandedly squandered? Yan sighed. She wouldn't repeat the same mistakes as he had. The Bauhinias had never been hers to control, nor had she ever wanted to be in the spotlight.

Yan turned away from the view. They had to get going, so she had to clean up as soon as possible. She stood, letting out a sharp exhale. The cabinets were filled with—who knew what Hak Gor kept inside those? More secrets to uncover, she supposed. And no time like the present to excavate them before he came back.

Yan shook her head. Hak Keung was dead—gone for good.

For the better.

The woman opened the cabinet to the right of the desk. She found a tiny golden key attached to the top drawer on a hook. It was engraved with Hak Gor's initials—YHK—and shaped like a bauhinia. Yan expected nothing less from her extravagant brother and used the key to unlock the drawer. She yanked it open, expecting a heavy ton of corporate secrets and encoded files (what else would a mafia boss keep under lock and key?). It was the complete opposite.

A jade necklace was the only item inside the drawer.

Yan inspected the necklace with a frown of confusion and curiosity. It was the same one she'd bought ages ago—from Hak Keung himself.

"How in the world did he manage to find it?" Yan whispered to herself. "It's been fifty years."

The woman scoffed and shook her head with a rueful smile. "Hak Gor, you scoundrel."

Just then, Yan heard three solid knocks on the door. "Come in," she called. "Shut the door behind you, please."

"I thought we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago." A young woman poked her head through the doorframe.

"Amelia, your aunt has never been on time and never will be. That's called being fashionably late." Yan quipped. "Help me sort out a few things before we leave."

Amelia rolled her eyes and stepped into the office. "Sure," she sighed, "but only because I don't want to go to the funeral."

"Why don't you?" Yan turned around to look at her niece, still clutching the necklace.

"He never respected me. Why should I pay him the same amount of respect?"

"Amelia—" Yan started.

"Ah Ba never cared for us. The only thing that ever mattered to him was his reputation."

"That isn't true." Yan shook her head. "He really did care, albeit in a twisted way. He loved you, and his ambition led the Bauhinias to success—"

"Why are you defending him?" Amelia questioned. "Ah Ba all but forgot about you. He ruined my perception of the world—taught me how to lie, cheat, and steal—now I don't even know what's right or wrong. I stole that necklace you're holding from Chow Tai Fook just weeks before he died."

Yan stared, wide-eyed, at Amelia. "Fifty years ago, your father stole this. And I bought it from him."

Amelia looked at Yan skeptically.

"I don't know why he asked you to take the necklace, but this shows he hasn't forgotten—he didn't forget about me. He named you after me, Tze Kei, because he cared. He loved you. Well, in the beginning, he tried to love you, but the Yeungs never lived by a good moral code. He wanted more—he always wanted more power, money, fame...which ultimately led to his demise."

"Say all you want, Aunt Yan," Amelia looked at the necklace, "but that love didn't last. I'm this close to throwing a 'good riddance' party in Lan Kwai Fong** tonight," she chuckled. "Maybe I'll bring along that golden dragon in the trash can. See, even you decided to throw it out."

With that, Amelia strode out of the room.

Yan picked up the dragon statue and put it back on the table. She closed the drawer and the cabinet door with a resolute sigh. The woman took one last look at the dragon and the office room that seemed so dull without Hak Keung's presence.

Yan was the only one in the Bauhinias with a genuine conscience—perhaps that was why her family, with their fragmented moral code and lack of ethics, refused to talk about her. After the funeral, she'd finally get to set things right.

Yan had promised herself that the day Hak Keung took over the Bauhinias.

She put on the necklace and left.

Word Count: 1287

Glossary
*Sze-lai: Cantonese slang term for 'middle-aged woman.'
**Lan Kwai Fong: An area in Hong Kong famous for its nightclubs and boisterous nighttime atmosphere.