Seeing that I remained unmoved, Gun Youliang grew even more frantic.
“Brother Jin! There’s no place for you in the gang anymore. Fat Tong is the boss now, and he’s always had a grudge against Uncle Rong—he’ll kill you!”
I picked up a bottle of cola beside me and twisted off the cap.
“Gun Youliang, just go.”
“Go…?”
“What comes next is between me and Tong. If you stay, you’ll only get dragged into it.”
I took a sip of the cola. Room temperature. Tasted awful.
Gun Youliang was silent for a long moment before slowly standing up.
He paid the noodle shop owner for the meal, then turned and bowed to me. “Brother Jin, you helped me in the past. If you ever need me in the next life, just say the word…”
“Alright, go.” I waved him off.
Gun Youliang hesitated, then pulled a folding knife from his pocket and set it in front of me. “Brother Jin, for self-defense.”
“I don’t fight with knives,” I shook my head. “Take it.”
“Just keep it, Brother Jin. There’s nothing else I can do for you.”
Watching him leave the noodle shop, glancing back every few steps, my heart still couldn’t settle.
I was such an idiot. What the hell was really going on?
The old man from the shop and I sat in silence—he washed dishes, I drank cola, neither of us speaking.
Twenty minutes later, the sound of cars rumbled from the street outside. A dozen black vehicles pulled up, blocking the entrance.
A crowd of grim-faced men filed in, one after another.
Most of them I didn’t recognize, but I knew the man leading them.
Brother Chong, the gang’s strategist.
A long scar ran diagonally from his left temple to his right jaw, impossible to miss.
Brother Chong walked up to me, sat down slowly, and grabbed another bottle of cola.
“It’s room temperature,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter.” He bit off the cap and gulped down several mouthfuls.
He chewed his lip, looking like he had something painful to say.
“Brother Chong, did you really need this big of an escort just to see me?” I glanced at the dozens of men crammed inside, expressionless.
“Four years ago, you were the most feared enforcer in the gang. You took down thirty-seven men barehanded. How else was I supposed to come prepared?”
“So… does Tong have something to say to me?”
Brother Chong thought for a moment, then turned to the others. “Wait outside. Don’t come in unless I say so.”
“Yes, Brother Chong.”
Once they were gone, Brother Chong sighed deeply.
“Ah Jin… why did you have to come back?”
“This is my home. Why shouldn’t I?”
Brother Chong grabbed my collar, his voice low and tense. “Ah Jin! Both Tong and I wanted to let you go, but you swagger back in and start trouble. How the hell is he supposed to handle this? You were the right-hand man of a traitor!”
If Brother Chong wanted to spare me, I could understand—he’d always looked out for me.
But why would Tong let me off?
“Uncle Rong wasn’t a traitor,” I said. “There’s got to be some misunderstanding.”
Brother Chong sighed helplessly, releasing me. He reached into his jacket and pulled out two things.
On the left, a plane ticket. On the right, a motorcycle key.
“Ah Jin, your choice. Fly to Thailand—Tong’s got work for you there. You’ll never starve. Or take the bike out back and disappear. Never show your face again.”
It was like Brother Chong didn’t know me at all, giving me a choice like this.
“I’ll take neither. Brother Chong, I’ll ride with you.” I stood and headed for the door.
Brother Chong shook his head, pocketed the items, and followed.
Just before stepping out, I remembered something.
“Brother Chong, I’m broke. Pay for those two colas, will you?”
……
The gang hadn’t changed much, except all the foot soldiers were now Tong’s men.
I knew Tong was unpredictable. He’d clashed with Uncle Rong for years, and to him, I was nothing but a thorn in his side.
“Boss, Ah Jin’s here,” Brother Chong knocked on the door.
“Let him in.”
Brother Chong nodded, opened the door from the outside, and I stepped in.
The room was dim, thick with smoke, the faint sound of prayer beads clicking in the shadows.
“Boss Tong, it’s Ah Jin,” I said.
“Pay respects to Lord Guan,” Tong’s low voice rumbled from the darkness.
I nodded, walked to the statue of Guan Yu, raised three incense sticks above my forehead, and bowed three times with reverence.
“Come.” Tong beckoned from the shadows.
I sat down across from him. “Boss Tong.”
“Hmm, Ah Jin…” Tong reclined on the sofa, his massive belly rising as he toyed with his bracelet. “I’d heard about you back when you worked for Gambler Rong. Made quite a name for yourself.”
“You flatter me, Boss Tong. I’m just a brute who knows how to fight.”
“Bullshit.” Tong coughed weakly. “I heard Gambler Rong sent you to train in the best international combat techniques. If not for those four years inside, you’d be a pro fighter by now.”
“That’s right. Uncle Rong taught me how to survive. I owe him everything.”
At that, Tong’s fingers stilled on his bracelet for a split second before resuming. “But Ah Jin, Gambler Rong broke gang rules. How do you think we should settle that debt?”
I nodded. “I don’t believe Uncle Rong stole the money. Two million isn’t pocket change—he wouldn’t be that stupid.”
Tong snorted, tossed his bracelet onto the table, and leaned forward from the shadows, revealing his bloated face.
“Ah Jin, it wasn’t ‘stealing.’ It was a debt. He borrowed two million from me, then vanished when it was time to pay.” Tong ground his teeth. “That bastard didn’t take the gang’s money—he took mine!”
“What…?”
Tong looked furious. He took a few deep breaths before calming down slightly, still clenching his jaw. “So tell me, how should we settle this?”
“Will my life cover it?” I asked.
Tong said nothing, just picked up his bracelet again, closed his eyes, and resumed fiddling with it.
After a few seconds of silence, I understood.
“Thank you, Boss Tong.”
I stood, pulled the folding knife from my pocket, stepped back, and pressed it to my throat.
But before I could cut, two men lunged from behind and slammed me onto the table.
I hadn’t realized others were hiding in the room.
“Good lad. Got guts.” Tong nodded, chuckling dryly before his face hardened again. “Ah Jin… but what good is your worthless life to me? Where’s my money?”
“Boss Tong, I’m useless. I don’t have two million.” Pinned to the table, I gritted my teeth. “How do you want to settle this? What will it take to spare Uncle Rong?”
“Ah Jin… Ah Jin, you’re really something.” Tong held out a hand, and someone passed him a lit cigarette. “You did four years for Gambler Rong, and now you’re still taking bullets for him. What’s the point?”
“I told you. I owe him.”
“But he’s always used you as a weapon, never cared if you lived or died.” Tong took a drag, his voice grave. “That idiot Gun Youliang isn’t my man or yours. So why the hell did he bring you to Mong Kok?”
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