Shengliver’s Note: This “tempest in a bowl” is the brainchild of a Chinese teen called Tan. He is the student who ate the noodle soup at the end of the story.

When I was born, I knew I would be leading a different life from the other subjects in my kingdom. Yes, I was a fly and I could fly. My ambition, however, went far beyond that. It was a bit crazy.

Seeing my brothers and sisters swarming into a toilet and licking faeces, I felt awful. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I was confident I deserved more decent meals than the disgusting stuff. I made up my mind to have soup as my meal.

Soup looked so inviting that anytime I saw it, I would lick my lips. I could hardly wait to dive in and lap it up. My instinct warned me to do otherwise, in spite of the temptation. Once trapped in the gluey stuff, I would be doomed. Although eating soup seemed a bit too far-fetched for a small-brained insect like me, I would not let myself live a mundane existence like my peers. I resolved to become the first fly in the world to swim in soup and eat it.

Mind made up, I started to practise every day. I ran fast for one thing. I learned to manipulate my wings like a bird, for another. In the end, I was able to control my flying speed at will. Best of all, I was able not only to hover in the air but also to change direction in flight.

One day, I felt it was time to put my newly acquired skills to the test. Sniffing noodles being served in a restaurant nearby, I put on my goggles and dived into the bowl. Swimming in the delicacy, I sucked it to my heart’s content. When waves were surging, I elevated myself into the air and narrowly escaped death. After the soup calmed, I plopped down and resumed consumption.

I was lost in the heavenly dining experience when, all of a sudden, bubbles started to shoot out of the soup and the temperature skyrocketed. Before I knew it, I found myself stuck in it. I attempted to beat my wings, but my efforts were to no avail. They were too heavy to flap.

Death would be a sure thing this time. It was well worth it, though, because I had set a record in the world of flies. The feat would be meaningless to me since I would be dead, but it would be celebrated posthumously everywhere in the Kingdom of Flies.

While I was struggling painfully for the last gasps in the hot noodle soup, a YYHS student called Tan walked into the diner and ordered a meal. The bowl of noodles was served on the table. Picking up the chopsticks, the Chinese teenager started to savour the meal, with a record-breaking dead fly in it. Taking the carcass for a titbit of ginger or garlic, he lifted it with the chopsticks and sent it into his mouth.

“Hmm, today’s meal is a lot tastier than usual,” Tan mused.