The HSK had been seen back at O'Malleys, whispers claimed, and a thirst for vengeance seized the wharf. Driven on by food and drink, the factory boys had mocked its challenge the year before, and each had been knocked unconscious in turn. Their physical bruises had healed in time, but their brief encounter with the Chinese proficiency test had given the men something that wasn't there before.
It was shame, and it had sharpened itself in the year they waited for the HSK to return. Time had lent them a hunger for revenge. And so they had organized: spending cold weekends and evenings reviewing the Chinese language, stripping it of its mystery and coming closer to understanding the thing which had defeated them. The entire wharf had been studying Chinese for months in anticipation of just this day. And now it was here.
