Jimmy,

I’m thinking of you.

Corresponding with you is nothing new. We usually text each other, and in the past we often emailed each other. But it is my first time writing you a letter. The world is big, and yet you are in custody. This is also a first time. Sadness abounds.

I was overwhelmed by anger, sadness and pain. And yet I saw that you were all calm as you walked in and out of the detention center and court. I also saw your high spirit as you appeared in court the other day. Majestic. That was the word I could think of. Your pace was full of dignity. No amount of groundless accusations can make you yield. Those of us who are out there have all the more reason to stay strong.

Today is Sunday. I suppose it’s the day you read the Bible, isn’t it? I’m a Catholic, too, but I don’t go to church. Lazy me.

When I was young, I was a diligent girl, and I accompanied my mother to the church every Sunday. I was not baptized yet but out of a sense of righteousness, I resisted the temptation of my soft pillow and sensual bed and got up every Sunday morning to go to the church with my mum. At the time, only my mother was a Catholic. My father believed only kindness mattered, and sleeping was his religion anyway. Seeing that my mother went to church alone while my father, my brother and I stayed in bed, I thought my mother was lonely and so I offered to accompany her when I was in Primary One. When I got to Primary Six, I wanted to learn more about Catholicism and to be baptized.

As someone going to a Catholic school, I asked my parents why some students were baptized as soon as they were born. They had a religion without having to be religious. I also asked why my brother and I were not baptized. My parents said they had thought about the issue, but they decided they should let their children decide for themselves later whether to be baptized. I was stunned by what they said and never forget that.

The taste of free will and the freedom to choose make all the difference. Before being baptized, I faithfully got up early and overcame the temptation of staying in bed or watching TV at home just to go to the church. Whether it was sunny or rainy, I stuck to the routine. But after I was baptized, going to church, according to my parents, was an obligation. They kind of forced me to go. When things that used to be civilized became undemocratic, I, as you can imagine, became a rebel and resisted. I became lazy. Religion was still in my heart but I no longer cared about the ritual.

I know you are calm in the face of adversity, but I know it is hard to stay composed without one’s palate being satisfied. But when I learned that you get to eat some nice congee that is not too bad and that you have asked your family to keep delivering you the same food, I am relieved.

During those days when I accompanied my mother to the church, we met my father and my brother at the restaurant Kam Heung Yuen to have congee after the Sunday mass. We had to go empty stomach for the church ritual of receiving sacraments. So my mum would skip breakfast in the morning and so would I, even though I didn’t take the sacraments. So every time we met my father and my brother at Kam Heung Yuen, we would have a hearty meal.

Each of us would have a bowl of congee and a rice dumpling. I would also have a piece of toast. The thick slice of butter on the toast would melt slowly on the piece of bread. That was a touching moment. My mum would cut the toast into small pieces. The one in the middle was the softest and she would give it to my dad, who sometimes would give it to me. I preferred the crusty edges but would often gladly take my father’s offer. The salty butter and the sweet syrup made a perverse combination. Such was the evil toast that I loved.

Today Nathan Law said on Facebook that apart from listening to Cantonese songs and watching Hong Kong-related programs on YouTube, he has to catch up on the latest hot topics in Hong Kong. To outlive the enemy and continue with the fight, we need not bite our lips and shout “add oil” 24 hours a day. It’s okay to talk about food and things like that. One needs to take a breather in between carrying the cross on the back.

A few days before you were remanded in custody, you hosted an epic, sumptuous white truffle lunch. According to Martin Lee, the best home dinner is one in which the host sweats and the guests moved to tears. You indeed were the one who sweat as you shaved the white truffles at breakneck speed, while your guest, an FT journalist, was moved by the white truffle dishes. The lunch was for FT Weekend’s “Lunch with FT” page published a few weeks ago. You must have stunned those foreign forces during the lunch. What impressed me most was not that you said “I’m free, even when I’m facing jail time. I know I’m not guilty, I haven’t done anything wrong, I have no weight on my conscience”.

What I found most striking was that the writer said you had “a cherubic face”. I suppose no one has ever described you like that. You are a man who has fought countless battles in the business world. You’ve made friends and enemies, achievements and mistakes. Now people see you as a person with an angelic face, courtesy of all the good deeds you have done over the years. The journalist could feel your composure and your selflessness and nobleness as you defend Hong Kong.

You started from nothing and today you are a successful businessman. You set out to look for freedom and found it, and now you are willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of a place you bloody love. You return freedom to Hong Kong, a place that made Jimmy Lai happen. Creativity is in your blood, and your biggest accomplishment is that you have created a space for accommodating democracy in Hong Kong.

Perhaps many people in the high society of Hong Kong used to look down upon you. You may not remember that, but Cheung Man-yee told me that you once said “I squat down to tie your shoelaces but when I stand up, I’m still taller than you.”

Likewise, no matter how much they get suppressed, when Hong Kong people stand up, they are all taller than the suppressor.

As a poem goes, “you have to experience some bitter cold before you get to smell the fragrance of the plum blossoms”.

Missing you.

Budming

P.S. Chained around the waste as you were escorted to court, you had a smaller belly and looked all the more cool. The blue shirt and matching blue jacket looked great too!

Click here for Chinese version

We invite you to join the conversation by submitting columns to our opinion section: [email protected]

Apple Daily reserves the right to refuse, abridge, alter or edit guest opinion columns for accuracy, length, clarity, and style, and the right to withdraw and withhold columns based on the discretion of our editorial page editors.

The opinions of the writers do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editorial board.

---------------------------------

Apple Daily’s all-new English Edition is now available on the mobile app: bit.ly/2yMMfQE

To download the latest version,

iOS: bit.ly/AD_iOS

Android: bit.ly/AD_android

Or search Appledaily in App Store or Google Play