Wok Hei St

Through the window, a small patch of black, polluted brighter by shopping mall lights. It was about all that I could see of hope.

An interrogation. A theft. A shopping center. A magic user. A hired grunt. A wok that could be magical.

Read if you like: Movies where it’s largely two people talking but each of them is thinking ‘do they that I know that they know’; humid weather with blasts of air conditioning; Malaysian take-out.

Read for free online.

Published in Strange Horizons as part of their Southeast Asia Special Issue, August 2022. (Edited by Jaymee Goh. Thanks to all the backers that make special issues like this one possible.)