Chapter Two: The Big Boss Arrives

Yan Xu endured the pain as he stood up and slowly walked to the window. Perhaps it was a side effect of his journey through time, but his wounds healed with remarkable speed. In just a few days, the long gash on his back had scabbed over completely; in some places, the scabs had already fallen off, leaving not even a trace of a scar behind.

Now that he knew he was in Hong Kong, Yan Xu’s heart brimmed with curiosity about this city. His impressions of Hong Kong came from movies and television; although he’d had a few chances to visit as a tourist, fate had always intervened, and he had missed them. Everything about Hong Kong in the 1980s fascinated him, and knowing that he was now living on the famous Apliu Street only intensified his urge to go out and explore.

Apliu Street had evolved over the decades: a second-hand goods market in the fifties and sixties, it turned into an electronics market in the seventies, an audio equipment market in the eighties, and a mobile phone market in the nineties—before finally becoming a thoroughfare selling all manner of goods in the new century. Electronic parts, mobile phones, car accessories, high- and low-end audio equipment—this was truly a shopping street that could satisfy men of all ages.

But his injuries kept him confined to this little room of barely a dozen square meters. Especially these past days, with Chicken Feather and Ghost Dong always out with their boss negotiating, he had no one to talk to. And with no television or computer for entertainment, his meals were delivered from the restaurant downstairs. All he could do was watch the endless stream of people on the street below through his window and listen to the popular music of this era blaring from the high-end speakers of the shops below—a small pleasure in his current life.

Over these days, Yan Xu had done much thinking, all for the sake of his future. He knew he could never remain a street thug. Never mind that there was no future in it after 1997—even now, the daily violence was not something he wanted any part of. It was nothing like the schoolyard brawls he’d once joined as a teenager. The gang warfare depicted in movies was lethal—one could lose one’s life at any moment.

Yet, getting out of the organization wasn’t so simple. Even though he was only a low-level member, he still had the boss who had brought him in. This so-called boss was just a low-ranking “49” in the gang; after more than a decade in the underworld, he hadn’t advanced, and he was slippery and shrewd. Still, in Yan Xu’s experience, the man genuinely cared for them. When he, Chicken Feather, and Ghost Dong had just graduated and were being bullied, it was this boss who had stood up for them. From then on, the three had followed him. In three years, they hadn’t gained much, but they’d also avoided major trouble; their boss took on the dangerous jobs himself. While other underlings got injured or replaced, the three of them had remained unscathed.

Of course, this time was an exception; the whole crew had been mobilized.

If he wanted out, he’d need his boss’s approval. Thankfully, his boss was not well regarded in the organization; in three years, he hadn’t even had the chance to burn incense and officially become a “49.” Otherwise, things would be much more complicated.

“Nine-Day, the boss is here to see you!”

Just as Yan Xu was wracking his brains over his future, the door burst open. Chicken Feather’s loud voice nearly drowned out the heavy bass from the electronics shop below.

“Boss!” Yan Xu immediately recognized the short man at the front.

This was Bald Qiang, his boss. Though his face was fierce and even his neck bore tattoos, Yan Xu knew it was all just a façade. Those who truly knew him understood that Bald Qiang was actually quite timid. Following a boss like this meant he’d never soar high, but it also meant he was unlikely to face real danger.

But today, Bald Qiang was different. His face was flushed, his eyes sparkled with rare confidence and excitement. Usually, it was only Yan Xu, Chicken Feather, Ghost Dong, and a few underachievers who trailed behind him. Now, at least a dozen men followed, most of them unfamiliar faces—a turnout reserved for the top bosses.

“Ah Xu, why are you up?” Bald Qiang hurried to him when he saw Yan Xu standing by the window.

“It’s nothing, Boss. I’m almost recovered!” Yan Xu flexed his arm, proving he was nearly healed.

“I didn’t expect you to recover so quickly. That gash was so deep at the time.” Bald Qiang seemed amazed; such a serious wound had healed in just a few days.

“I have good genes. I could even handle a few girls right now,” Yan Xu joked, being quite at ease after so many years with Bald Qiang.

“Finding a few girls is easy now. Our status has changed—if nothing else, we have plenty of beauties.” Bald Qiang took a seat as Ghost Dong brought over a chair, then waved at the men crowding the doorway. “Well? Bring the stuff in.”

Yan Xu watched in disbelief as all sorts of goods were carried in—not just an array of fruits, but also high-end delicacies like bird’s nest and fish maw. These were all expensive. While Bald Qiang was generous, this heap of gifts, nearly as tall as a person, was beyond his usual means.

Bald Qiang seemed pleased with Yan Xu’s astonishment. He pulled an envelope from his pocket and slapped it onto the table in front of Yan Xu.

“I haven’t been able to visit you sooner, brother. There’s been too much going on in the organization. You know all the lieutenants have been negotiating lately—it’s a tense time. Here’s ten thousand dollars for your recovery—company money. I never forget my brothers.”

The sight of another ten thousand dollars stunned Yan Xu even more. As compensation for an injured brother, this was a princely sum. Even a university graduate earned just over two thousand a month, a company manager might get this in two months, and it was nearly a police inspector’s monthly wage. For those at the bottom rung, this was generous indeed.

But more surprising than the money was Bald Qiang’s mention of the “company.” Most gangs didn’t rebrand themselves as companies until the nineties; now, everyone still called them gangs. The sudden use of “company” puzzled Yan Xu.

“Boss, this is too much.” The sight of ten thousand bright red bills was tempting. In Hong Kong, this was no small sum, with considerable purchasing power.

“Nine-Day, if the boss gives it to you, just take it. You don’t know—our boss’s status is different now. Our hard times are over. The boss has been promoted to White Paper Fan!” Chicken Feather sat down and pushed the envelope towards Yan Xu.

“This is a reward for merit. You contributed the most this time, and you were injured. You deserve it. Ghost Dong, I, and a few old brothers all got our share.”

Within a lodge, the White Paper Fan held a pivotal role, akin to a military strategist. Each lodge under the gang had a resident head and a “holder of the purse,” who handled all affairs. Only those qualified as White Paper Fan could serve as treasurer. In negotiations, the White Paper Fan also commanded deployments.

Every “49” could be promoted to Straw Sandal, White Paper Fan, or Red Pole—but only to one, and not successively. After promotion, the position was for life.

Red Poles were the enforcers, eligible to become resident heads but always on the front lines during negotiations—hardly suitable for Bald Qiang’s temperament, as he would avoid risk if he could. Straw Sandal was the lowest post after “49,” mostly responsible for errands and had little power or profit. Becoming a White Paper Fan had always been Bald Qiang’s ambition.