The Neon Hangul
- Peter K F Cheung SBS
- 13 minutes ago
- 3 min read
FADE IN
Act 1
INT. LIVING ROOM - 9:45
Sunlight slants across the room. PETER sits on the sofa, checking phone messages.
PETER (V.O.): Oh, I've got an upvote on one of my posts on Quora.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): I haven't posted since the rise of AI. What did I write?
Peter checks his post on Quora.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Oh, someone asked me about the two tones of the Chinese character for "human" in Cantonese.
Reading.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): I explained that the higher-pitched tone for "human" conveys a negative connotation.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): That's why Cantonese is nearly an unlearnable language for outsiders. The meaning lives in the music.
Act 2
INT. LIVING ROOM - 11:30
Peter taps choices on his phone screen, repeats some Korean sentences and completes his daily Duolingo lesson in Korean.
PETER (V.O.): Done.
A triumphant fanfare plays. Duo, the green owl, fills the screen with a shocked expression.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Not a single mistake?
We see Duo's query on screen: Are you sure you're human, Peter?
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): When I make many mistakes, Duo would intervene and say "You're still learning".
Recalling.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): The introductory Korean course that I took with my wife two years ago provided me with a solid foundation.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): But the various Korean characters still look quite similar to me.
EXT. ESTATE STREETS - 18:00
Peter and his WIFE walk towards a MTR station. He carries a swim bag, while she has a bag filled with Korean books.
PETER: I miss our early Thursday dinners...
Peter sighs, a soft sign of regret.
PETER (Cont'd): I really enjoyed our quick meals before our Korean evening classes.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.): When we're classmates, my wife knew how poor my Korean dictation was.
WIFE: You know, I've been on diet and don't have dinner before class anymore.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Our goal of learning Korean isn't fluency, but connection.
EXT. MTR CABIN - CONTINUOUS
Crowded. Peter and his wife stand near the door. His wife is about to exit.
PETER: Take care, see you at home.
WIFE: You too. Don't swim too hard. Your back.
A split in the crowd.
EXT. STREET IN KOWLOON - 21:15
Peter has a window seat in a bus. As his neigbourhood approaches, he looks out. He reads the neon Hangul sign of a small restaurant
FLASHBACK
EXT. SAME STREET - NIGHT (LATE NOVEMBER)
In a silver Previa, Peter is focused at the wheel, his wife sits beside him. In the back are their elder DAUGHTER, SON-IN-LAW and his MOTHER. Suddenly, we hear the mother's remark in Korean. The daughter translates.
DAUGHTER: My mother-in-law says there's a Korean restaurant here.
Everyone follows her gaze as the sign passes by the window.
PETER (V.O.): This isn't about food. It's about a script being a beacon.
Peter drives on, the image of the sign - and her reaction - burned into his memory.
RETURN TO PRESENT
PETER (V.O.): I failed the close-book course exam in Korean, but I think I'm passing the test on why Korean matters.
Act 3
INT. LIVING ROOM - 21:30
Peter uploads a photo showing a restaurant facade with neon Hangul signs and a menu of various food items, illuminated at night to a draft on his laptop.
PETER (V.O.): Hangul is an alphabet made of circles and lines. That night, it spelled "sanctuary".
Thinking.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): We're all walking past signs we can't read, waiting for the one that suddenly make us feel addressed.
Reflecting.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): The Neon Hangul suggests that the furtherest distance isn't miles, but the space between a sound and its meaning.
The END
FADE OUT
Comments