Chapter 132: My Name Is Qiao Jiajin

My name is Joe Ka-kin.

I lied.

I don’t actually live in Guangdong—I’m just here looking for someone.

But to me, it doesn’t matter where I am.

After all, after serving four hard years in prison for Boss Wing, Portland Street had become unrecognizable to me.

The day I got out, only one “rolling friend” came to pick me up.

Not a single brother from the gang showed up. Boss Wing didn’t either.

In those four years, only Gau-tsai visited me a few times, but I hadn’t seen him in ages.

“Kin-gor! Over here!” The rolling friend waved enthusiastically from across the street when he saw me come out.

“You are…?” I couldn’t quite remember where I’d met him.

“Rolling Friend Leung, Kin-gor.”

Rolling Friend Leung—a dime-a-dozen name I’d heard a thousand times. I couldn’t place him at all.

Four years ago, I had over a hundred underlings, and those underlings had their own underlings. How was I supposed to remember them all?

I pretended to recognize him. “What brings you here?”

“Kin-gor, I came to pick you up.” He pulled me toward an old pickup truck parked nearby. “Get in, prison must’ve been rough! Let me take you out for some fun.”

At that moment, I didn’t know what to feel.

I took the fall for Boss Wing, yet in four years, he never once looked my way.

But if you asked me if I regretted it?

No.

When I was eleven, Gau-tsai and I stabbed a local bully to death with a pocketknife.

If Boss Wing hadn’t taken us out of the Kowloon Walled City, taught me how to fight, and given us work, we’d have been rotting in the streets long ago.

Four years wasn’t enough to repay that debt.

Boss Wing and Gau-tsai must’ve been busy. I’d have to go to the gang to see them.

The truck drove straight to Mong Kok but didn’t enter Portland Street. Instead, it circled Shantung Street for a while before finally stopping in front of a noodle shop.

It was a tiny place, and I wasn’t sure why we were here.

Rolling Friend Leung pulled the handbrake, turned to me with a grin, and said, “Kin-gor! You hungry? Let’s grab a bite first?”

“I’m not hungry. Take me to Boss Wing.”

“Aiya…” Rolling Friend Leung opened the door and stepped out. “Even if you’re seeing Boss Wing, you gotta eat first. You expect him to feed you?”

I couldn’t argue, so I got out and walked into the shop. It was empty except for an old man running the place.

“What’ll you have?” the old man grumbled.

“Whatever’s good!” Rolling Friend Leung laughed. “Give us your specialty!”

I sat down, struck by how much the world had changed. Mong Kok looked nothing like it did four years ago. I wondered who controlled Shantung Street now.

Was it still Rotten Teeth?

The old man brought over two bowls of mixed noodles, slamming them onto the table with no regard for the splashing broth.

I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite.

Delicious.

A thousand times better than prison food.

I barely chewed, gulping down the scalding noodles in one go. Only then did I feel truly alive again.

As I set the bowl down, I noticed other customers had entered—four guys with toothpicks in their mouths, eyeing us the whole time.

When they saw I’d finished eating, they stood up and approached our table.

Rolling Friend Leung sensed trouble and quickly got to his feet. “Ah… big brothers… what can we do for you?”

“Done eating?” the leader smirked. “Eating here comes with a ‘noodle fee.’ A hundred bucks per person.”

I glanced at the old man. He cursed under his breath. “Always coming here, taking, taking, taking—save it for your mother’s grave!”

Despite his harsh words, he kept washing dishes like this was just another day.

“Watch your mouth, old man!” one of the thugs snapped.

“Or what?!” The old man threw down a dish and grabbed a cleaver. “You wanna try me?!”

“Alright, alright…” The leader waved them off. “We already took his protection money. Rules say we can’t touch him. Just here for the ‘noodle fee’ today.”

I didn’t get it.

Times had changed—changed beyond my understanding.

Taking protection money from shops was one thing. But where was the “protection”?

Now they didn’t even pretend. They just shook down customers too.

“Who do you answer to?” I asked.

“What, you wanna talk to my boss?” The leader smacked the table. “Who the hell are you? Which crew you with?”

“Which crew?”

That question made my blood boil. Mong Kok was Boss Wing’s turf. How could anyone not know me?

As I started to stand, Rolling Friend Leung quickly held me back. “No, no, no—Kin-gor, let me handle this!”

He pulled out a wad of small bills, counted out two hundred, and handed it over.

“Sorry, big brothers! We’ll be out of your hair soon!”

The thug took the money, grinning as he patted Rolling Friend Leung’s cheek. “Smart man.”

I knew I’d only been out for a few hours. Best not to stir trouble. Besides, even a dragon shouldn’t provoke a snake in its own den. So I let Rolling Friend Leung handle it.

But then the thug spoke again. “What about the ‘soup fee’? You didn’t just eat noodles—you drank the broth too. That’s five hundred each.”

“Huh?!” Rolling Friend Leung forced a laugh. “Big brother, we don’t have that kind of cash. Can you do us a favor? Next time?”

I set my chopsticks down and slowly stood. This was beyond Rolling Friend Leung now.

“Kin-gor, Kin-gor!” He grabbed my arm. “I can fix this—”

“What, you wanna fight?” The thug shoved Rolling Friend Leung aside and glared at me. “You look like you got a problem.”

“Old man,” I said, “how much for a table and chairs?”

“Depends,” the shopkeeper muttered. “If you break ’em, ten grand. If those four trash break ’em, free of charge.”

“Then you might be losing money today.”

I didn’t expect to take them down in ten seconds.

No—eight and a half, to be exact.

They fought like they’d never been in a real brawl before. Was intimidation all it took to make money these days?

“Big brother… stop…” The leader groaned, begging for mercy. “I was wrong… who the hell are you with…?”

“I don’t care who you work for. Tell your boss Ah-Kin from Portland Street is back. If he’s got a problem, he can talk to me himself. I’ll take whatever he’s got.”

Rolling Friend Leung’s face twisted in panic. I wasn’t the sharpest—I didn’t get why.

“Ah-Kin…?” The thug froze. “You’re that 426 enforcer under Gambler Wing?”

His expression darkened, but he didn’t say another word. He and his men scrambled to their feet and ran.

“Kin-gor… we’re screwed…” Rolling Friend Leung stared after them, frantic. “They’ll spread the word you’re back. You gotta lay low in the mainland!”

“Lay low?” I didn’t understand. “Why should I? Take me to Boss Wing.”

Had I done something wrong by serving time for him?

I wasn’t smart enough to figure it out.

“You can’t see Boss Wing!” Rolling Friend Leung blurted. “Kin-gor, he stole from the gang! He and Gau-gor ran off!”

“What?!” The words hit me like a thunderbolt. “Boss Wing stole from the gang?”

“He took two million. The whole gang’s hunting him now!”

I sat back down, numb.

Bullshit.

Gau-tsai would never let Boss Wing do something that stupid.

Ever since we were kids, Boss Wing drilled one thing into us:

“Ah-Kin, Ah-Gau—one of you is the fist, the other is the brain. I need you both.”