21st December 2025 – (Hong Kong) For many Hongkongers, the Winter Solstice is traditionally even more important than Lunar New Year, a cherished day for family reunions and lavish meals. But for survivors of the devastating blaze at Wang Fuk Court in Hong Fuk Estate – which claimed 161 lives – this year’s festival has become a painful reminder of loss rather than a cause for celebration. Some residents say the day has “lost all meaning”, with trauma and sorrow now overshadowing what was once a highlight of the year.
Reporters from local media outlet Oriental Daily revisited several affected families and found that, for many, normal festive routines have collapsed. One family that lost a beloved pet has decided to stop marking festivals altogether. Another resident, who narrowly escaped the inferno, now relies on sleeping pills every night; whenever he closes his eyes, memories of the raging flames and the destruction of his home return in vivid detail. Once a proud host of elaborate nine-dish Winter Solstice banquets, he says the idea of preparing a festive feast for relatives is no longer bearable. Others who lost close relatives say they are overwhelmed by grief and find themselves breaking down in tears, admitting that today’s Winter Solstice scarcely registers with them. “If you journalists hadn’t mentioned it,” one said, “I honestly wouldn’t have realised the festival had come around again so soon.”
Among those most deeply affected is Mr Ip, formerly of Wang Tai Court, who lost his wife in the fire. Months on, he says he misses her intensely every day. “I’ve kept her WhatsApp account,” he explained softly. “Every morning I still send her a few words.” The family has been consumed with handling funeral and posthumous arrangements, and each task reopens old wounds. When he recalls their daily routines – simple moments such as having breakfast together and then walking to Tai Po Market to buy groceries – the emotion rapidly overwhelms him and tears well up. Returning alone to the same market, whether to the wet market or the nearby supermarkets, he finds that every corner triggers memories of errands once shared with his wife.
After the fire, Mr Ip moved with his younger son Ting and daughter‑in‑law into the flat of his elder son, Yin, in another estate in Tai Po. Three nuclear families, seven people in total, now share a home of just over 600 square feet under one roof. The cramped conditions have only reinforced their sense that festivals can no longer be celebrated in the old way. The family readily admits they have no heart for marking the Winter Solstice this year. In the past, it was Mrs Ip who held the family together and organised every detail of festive gatherings. “Family meals for festivals,” Mr Ip said quietly, “basically don’t happen any more.” Yin added that items and places associated with his mother are now almost too painful to confront; even fleeting reminders bring back a flood of memories. “Mum used to come over to my home to cook for my two kids,” he recalled. “Since the fire, I really haven’t wanted to step into the kitchen.”
Despite their grief, the family is trying to find ways to remember and honour Mrs Ip. Mr Ip frequently returns to Hong Fuk Estate simply to “look up at the flat” that used to be their home. With the help of neighbours, a temporary memorial tablet for his wife has been set up at Tsz Shan Monastery, offering a place for quiet reflection and remembrance.
Another couple, Mr and Mrs Yeung, former residents of Wang Fuk Court, have recently moved with Mr Yeung’s younger brother into Eminence Tower, a Hong Kong Housing Society estate in Hung Shui Kiu. Yet they say their new surroundings cannot compare to what they lost, and that this year’s Winter Solstice will be a far more modest affair. The family’s former home in Wang Yan Court enjoyed an expansive sea view; every morning they could watch the sunrise – the “salted egg yolk” – from their windows. Inside, they had furnished and decorated the flat with care, using what they described as the best and most expensive appliances and furniture. Returning home each day felt like stepping into “a five‑star hotel”, Mrs Yeung recalled.
All of that was destroyed in the blaze. The couple now struggle with poor mental health and chronic insomnia, haunted by fears that a similar disaster might strike again. Since the tragedy, they have sought psychiatric treatment to cope with flashbacks. “When I close my eyes,” Mr Yeung said, “the scenes from that day all come flooding back.”
Wang Fuk Court’s proximity to Tai Po Market once made daily life – especially grocery shopping and dining – convenient and enjoyable for residents. Every Winter Solstice, the Yeungs would spend the day at the nearby market, choosing ingredients for a large family gathering. Mrs Yeung would personally prepare a banquet for more than a dozen relatives, filling the table with sea cucumbers, abalone and other delicacies. Recalling those scenes, she became animated, describing how much she loved to cook elaborate “nine big dish” festive spreads for both Winter Solstice and Lunar New Year. “Everyone said the food was delicious,” she said with a brief smile. “Those times really made us very happy.”
Yet the thought of the well‑equipped kitchen she once had – including decades‑old dried tangerine peel and other cherished ingredients – now reduced to ashes leaves her visibly shaken. In Eminence Tower, the kitchen is small and basic, barely spacious enough to cook instant noodles, she lamented. The downstairs market offers only limited choice, making it impossible for her to recreate the grand feasts of previous years. This Winter Solstice, the family plans only a simple gathering at their son’s home. “I don’t have the mood,” she sighed, “and I don’t even have the cookware any more to make a big festival meal.”
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