Hong Kong Movie: At the beginning, Big Boss B asked me to draw the death lottery

Chapter 202 I'm not making a deal with you; you should even thank me.
Three days after the press conference, in an Indian restaurant near Kowloon Walled City, old Raj's trembling fingers could barely hold the newspaper.

On the front page, Ho Yiu-chung's face, with a half-smile, seemed to be staring at him through the newspaper.

"Father, the tea is getting cold."

The son, Sanjay, gently reminded him, but the old man grabbed his wrist.

Look at this!

"Old Raj pointed to the details of the immigration fund in the Ming Pao newspaper: 'Are the British really going to abandon us?'"

"What's so strange about that? When have you ever expected the British to treat us like one of their own?"

Sanjay shrugged and sighed, "You actually know better than anyone else, otherwise you wouldn't have given me a Chinese name when I was born."

"I've used this name for so many years, and it still sounds neither Chinese nor English. Even in our ancestral home, we have nowhere to go!"

Old Raji closed his eyes in pain, recalling those days, feeling as if time had passed and it was a lifetime ago.

Looking back, these people of Indian descent were enslaved to the core by British colonialism.

Indian soldiers like them, who followed the British to Hong Kong Island, always felt awe towards the foreigners, never hatred.

It wasn't until he saw the once-mighty British Empire begin to decline and the Hong Kong British government suffer defeat after defeat in the hands of a Chinese that old Raj realized that there was truly a fire burning in his heart!
“I think Ho Yiu-chung is right. The Governor’s House taught us how to fight for our legal rights on Hong Kong Island in the future, but they kept silent about what they should do for us!”
Sanjay, my good boy, they can't just walk away like this. At the very least, they should give us a reliable guarantee, not just an empty promise!

We need British citizenship, and we need it now!

Sanjay let out a long sigh, and then took a newspaper from the bar.

"Father, look at this!"

The front page of the Oriental Daily News—Ho Yiu-chung's stern face occupied half the page, with a shocking headline—"Britain brought you here, now they should take you away!"

Next to it was a faded old photograph that looked very familiar to old Raj.

He suddenly remembered that in 1946, his father stood in front of Government House wearing a Sikh police uniform, with the Union Jack fluttering behind him.

"What are we?"

Old Raji muttered to himself, his murky tears dripping onto the newspaper.

His family had served the British for three generations. His grandfather had been a lackey of the British colonialists when he was in India, and his father was beaten to death in the Kowloon riots in 1956 while protecting British merchants.

But what he holds in his hand now is still a "Hong Kong Island Identity Certificate", not a British passport.

In a corner of the restaurant, several young South Asian workers were having a heated argument.

Some of them were British mercenaries, and some were low-ranking employees of the Hong Kong British government, but without exception, they all only had Hong Kong identity cards and not British passports.

"My grandfather fought for the British his whole life, and now they want to just walk away?"

A young Sikh man with a full beard slammed his fist on the table and stood up, his brass bracelet making a dull thud as it hit the surface.

Such scenes are playing out all over Hong Kong. Ho Yiu-chung's remarks are like a depth charge, detonating beneath the calm surface of the sea, and the shockwaves are spreading at an alarming speed.

In the study of He Yaozong at Bijia Mountain Villa, his advisor Su hurriedly pushed open the door and entered, holding a stack of photos in his hand.

"Mr. He, as you instructed, we have already contacted the heads of seven South Asian labor union organizations."

The advisor, Su, spread the photos on the table: "These are their files."

He Yaozong picked up a photo at random: the Sikh man in the photo was wearing a striking red headscarf, and his eyes were sharp as an eagle's.

“Bahadur Singh, vice president of the Gurkha Veterans Association, he… his father saved the life of a British colonel during the Malayan campaign.”

The advisor, Su Run, cleared his throat and continued, "This man has a fiery temper, but he is highly respected within his clan."

It's worth mentioning that this guy has never done anything illegal, and he has agreed to organize protests demanding that the British government grant full citizenship to Gurkha veterans.

"very good!"

He Yaozong's lips curled up slightly: "Tell the finance department to allocate 200,000 yuan in activity funds to each eligible union member who is willing to speak out, but it must be done through a third-party account!"

The advisor, Su, hesitated for a moment: "Mr. He, wouldn't this be too obvious? What if the Governor's Office traces the flow of funds..."

"I'm afraid they'll investigate? Does this kind of thing even need to be investigated?!"

He Yaozong turned around, a cold glint in his eyes: "I want Fei Peng to know that if he can use foreigners to his advantage, he should be prepared to be devoured by them!"

A week later, at Statue Square, nearly a thousand South Asians gathered at the foot of the statue of Queen Victoria.

Bahadur Singh stood on the makeshift platform, his red headscarf standing out conspicuously in the blazing sun.

"Our fathers shed blood for Britain!"

He shouted in heavily accented English, his voice carrying throughout the square through the loudspeaker.

"What if the British decide to leave one day, leaving us on Hong Kong Island like stray dogs?"

An elderly, impeccably dressed Indian lawyer held up the British Nationality Act and roared at the camera.

"According to Article 17 of the Nationality Act before its amendment, all overseas citizens and their descendants who have served the British Empire for more than five years automatically acquire citizenship!"

He suddenly loosened his tie, revealing a hideous scar on his neck: "This is from when I was maintaining order during the 1967 riots!"
Later, I left the police force and took the bar exam, but decades later I still haven't been able to obtain British citizenship. Is the law just a piece of paper?!

The crowd erupted in angry roars.

The signs read slogans such as "Equal citizenship" and "Britain cannot abandon us," and there were even radical signs that said "The Hong Kong British government has broken its promise."

At the edge of the square, several reporters were interviewing a Chinese man wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

"Mr. Chen, as the legal advisor of the 'British Rights Alliance,' do you believe the British government has an obligation to accept these people of foreign descent?"

"In accordance with the British Nationality Act 1948 and subsequent supplementary provisions..."

The man pushed up his glasses and began to speak eloquently. No one knew that Chen Tianyi had just received 20 million from Hengyao that morning.

Now Chen Tianyi is increasingly realizing how wise it was to choose to study law back then.

At the same moment, in the Governor's office, Fat Peng slammed a stack of photos onto the table.

"Have you found out who is funding this so-called alliance?"

Chen Fang'an's face was pale: "The funds went through three layers of offshore companies, but... all signs point to Hengyao!"

"It really is He Yaozong!"

Fei Peng took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his anger.

He understood that the angrier he was at this moment, the more his opponent would find his weaknesses.

After much deliberation, Fei Peng finally calmed down.

"These ungrateful bastards!"

He loosened his tie, revealing bloodshot blue eyes behind his glasses.

"Chen, the Prime Minister has made it clear that it's impossible to issue passports to 100,000 South Asians. By the afternoon in London, the far-right was already holding protests."

Chen Fang'an nervously handed over a document: "Governor, this is the draft 'Special List of British Distinguished Persons,' which contains only 327 people..."

"327 people?"

Fat Peng sneered: "There are more than three thousand people protesting in the streets right now!"

He suddenly pushed open the window, and the sounds of demonstrations in the Legislative Council Square could be faintly heard in the distance.

Chen Fang'an seemed somewhat at a loss; compared to these shrewd and calculating politicians, she still appeared too young.

But then Fatty Peng sat back down and spoke again.

"He Yaozong has created a problem for us. If we focus on solving this problem, we are doomed to lose!"
The most urgent task now is to quell the grievances of these foreigners, and then observe the situation. If necessary, I will make a deal with He Yaozong to suppress this matter for now!

Chen Fang'an quickly responded, "Sir, what kind of pressure have they put on us from London?"

"No! Nobody wants to come to Hong Kong Island and take over the position of Governor anymore, at least not now!"

Fat Peng sneered: "But that's perfect, I will fully realize my political ambitions here."

Let those cabinet ministers see clearly: besides me, no one else can properly execute their plans for Hong Kong Island!

Two days later, in the evening, Ho Yiu-chung met with three South Asian labor union leaders at the Peninsula Hotel.

Under the crystal chandelier, security guards poured tea for the three people.

"All three of you are sensible people!"

Ho Yiu-chung cut to the chase: "The British government cannot accept all foreigners, but as far as I know, the Governor's Office is drafting a 'List of Special Contributors for Citizenship'."

Bahadur looked up abruptly: "Mr. He, what do you mean by this?"

"It means that Fei Peng is planning to divide you."

A few 'meritorious' individuals will receive British passports; the rest... well, they'll have to fend for themselves.

Bahadur immediately responded, "I'd like to know what will happen to us on Hong Kong Island after the British leave?" "How would I know? But to put it bluntly, you should know the answer!"
Hong Kong Island is, after all, a Chinese island. When the British were around, some people called you "cops and robbers." Now that the British are gone, I'm afraid that...

He Yaozong didn't finish his sentence, but the room fell into a deathly silence.

After a long pause, Rao, the vice president of the Indian Chamber of Commerce, asked in a trembling voice, "Mr. He, do you have any suggestions?"

He Yaozong's eyes were piercing.

"I suggested that you insist on the requirement of equal citizenship for all, and then Fat Peng would have no choice but to give in."

Furthermore, Hengyao is willing to provide all necessary support. I don't know what promises Fei Peng made to you before, but Hengyao is willing to provide you with real financial support!

The value of the phrase "real gold and silver" surpasses all empty boasts and grand pronouncements.

Putting everything else aside, the money He Yaozong promised was enough for them to return to their ancestral homes and live the life of wealthy men who never had to worry about food or clothing for two lifetimes.

With money, what wouldn't they dare to do?

I was lucky enough to get British citizenship.

Even if you're unlucky, you'll still get your full pay and be able to go back to your ancestral home to live a happy life. No matter how you look at it, you won't lose out!
In an instant, these people's impression of He Yaozong completely changed.

“Bahadur, we used to criticize Mr. Ho in the media, but now I feel ashamed!”

Rao was the first to give He Yaozong an answer, while the other two also laughed awkwardly and nodded in agreement.

After the three left, He Yaozong immediately spoke to Su Jiao, the clerk behind him.

"Notify the Oriental Daily News that tomorrow's front page will feature a report titled 'Hong Kong Government Plans to Differentiate Between Foreigners,' revealing details of the so-called 'Special Contributors' draft!"

……

The oak doors of Government House were once again closed.

Fei Peng sat at his desk, lost in thought for a full half hour.

As he predicted, the more than 300 citizenship applications did not appease the community; instead, they exacerbated the conflict among ethnic minorities.

People are more concerned about inequality than scarcity, which forced Fat Peng to cancel the more than three hundred citizenship applications before the situation got out of control.

After a long pause, he suddenly grabbed the landline receiver on his desk, dialed a number, and called his secretary.

"Go and tell Ho Yiu-chung to come to Government House at 8 p.m. tonight. Tell him I have something important to tell him!"

……

At 8:20 p.m., He Yaozong finally arrived and entered Fei Peng's office.

"He, I'm so sorry to disturb your rest so late at night!"

Even though the two were secretly at odds, on the surface, Fat Peng still had to maintain that facade of respectability.

Ho Yiu-chung also smiled and chimed in, "Not at all, I was late because I had to deal with some urgent business. I hope I didn't take up too much of the Governor's time."

"sit!"

Fei Peng didn't waste any more time on pleasantries and immediately got straight to the point.

"Well, you and I both know that London can't possibly accept so many foreigners!"

"Can Hong Kong Island do that?"

"Why not? Since Hong Kong Island was restored to its former glory, the population of this place has skyrocketed from hundreds of thousands to millions. You should know in your heart how many of them came from the mainland, right?"

Fat Peng smiled again: "Since we need to deal with historical issues, shouldn't we also address the problem I just mentioned?"
Hey, take my advice and stop this farce!

Ho Yiu-chung laughed along, "So, the Governor wanted a way out!"

Fat Peng slowly took off his glasses: "No need for further words. Since you understand that London cannot accept so many foreign citizens, just state your conditions!"

“Mr. Christopher, you’re much more straightforward than Wei Yixin!”

He Yaozong held up two fingers: "First, immediately launch a program to repatriate illegal immigrants, especially those Vietnamese refugees."

Second, large-scale deportation of South Asian illegal immigrants!

"In exchange?"

"Hengyao stopped supporting the British rights advocacy alliance, and the public opinion storm subsided within a week."

Ho Yiu-chung paused for a moment: "Governor, I believe you know better than anyone why this matter arose."

I'm not making a deal with you; you should even thank me. You could say I'm cleaning up someone else's mess!
Before you reject my terms, I hope you'll think it over carefully. After all, next time, I might not be so willing to talk to you!

Fat Peng tapped his fingers lightly on the table, and time ticked by.

"Deal! But the repatriation plan will be submitted to the Legislative Council in your name."

After a long silence, Fatty Peng finally nodded in agreement, but added his own condition.

Ho Yiu-chung laughed: "Inspector Peng is indeed well-versed in politics. Rest assured, you have left a peaceful Hong Kong Island for future generations. With this 'achievement,' the general public will remember you!"

Fei Peng was speechless. As he watched He Yaozong leave, his fists began to clench involuntarily.

He didn't know if the people of Hong Kong Island would remember his so-called 'achievement,' but he was certain that London would definitely make a big mark on his resume!
The Hong Kong British government detained these Vietnamese refugees for so many years under immense pressure, all in an effort to cultivate them into loyal believers in 'democracy'.

The entire Kowloon was abuzz with excitement on the day the Hong Kong government's official gazette was released.

The title of the "Emergency Repatriation Plan for Illegal Immigrants" prominently features the words "Proposed by Legislator Ho Yiu-chung".

Inside the Baishi refugee camp, Vietnamese refugees gathered around a broken radio, listening to news broadcasts in Cantonese.

A man with a scarred face suddenly kicked over a bucket of water: "It's He Yaozong again! He was the one who suppressed us Vietnamese people at Moxing Ridge last time, and now he's the one trying to drive us away!"

"Calm down, Nguyen Van Hung."

The older pastor pressed down on his shoulder: "The broadcast said they're only deporting those without temporary residence permits..."

"Those without certificates have to leave today, and those with certificates will be leaving tomorrow!"

Ruan Wenxiong roared, "We just want to stay on Hong Kong Island, what's wrong with that?!"

A group of Vietnamese men echoed the sentiment, showing no sign of finding such rhetoric particularly shameless.

At the same moment, in the study on Bijia Mountain, the clerk Su Zheng paced anxiously back and forth: "Mr. He, now all the Vietnamese people in Hong Kong think you're going to wipe them out! Fat Peng's move is too vicious!"

He Yaozong, however, leisurely read the newspaper: "What do you mean by thinking I'm going to wipe them out? I am going to wipe them out!"

"But... but Mr. He, the government's methods of repatriation are too drastic and violent. I'm afraid that... it might trigger a full-scale riot in the refugee camps."

If these Vietnamese guys get away, I'm afraid they'll turn their anger on you!

"What's there to be afraid of in a bunch of cowardly bastards who are afraid of fighting and have left their homes?"

Master Su, immediately notify the security team, and then, as my assistant, go to the refugee camp to oversee the repatriation process!
If the Vietnamese dare to riot, we'll strike them right where it hurts!

"what?"

The advisor, Su, asked in surprise, then immediately understood.

Without saying anything more, he nodded to He Yaozong and quickly left He Yaozong's study.

The next day at noon, the sun was blazing.

As another repatriation convoy drove into the White Rock refugee camp, no one noticed that several sallow-faced Vietnamese men quietly climbed onto the roof.

"Fuck off!"

A sharp whistle pierced the sky, followed by a hail of Molotov cocktails raining down on the police car.

In an instant, flames shot into the sky. Hundreds of refugees rushed out of the shacks, armed with iron bars, kitchen knives, and even homemade spears made from scraped sheet metal.

The sirens blared through the sky, but were quickly drowned out by roars.

This marked the beginning of another riot at the White Rock refugee camp.

……

Inside Government House, Fat Peng stared at the live surveillance footage, his lips twitching slightly.

He immediately called Lu Minghua of the police department: "Lu, notify the riot police that the suppression must be carried out with great force."

Vietnam is peaceful now, so don't feel pressured. Repatriating these Vietnamese doesn't violate the Refugee Convention!

Meanwhile, surrounded by a group of security personnel, Master Su, acting as He Yaozong's representative, began to earnestly persuade the people of the Baishi Refugee Camp.

"I am Mr. He's assistant. Friends in Baishi Refugee Camp, Vietnam is... is your homeland!"

Now that Vietnam is at peace, it's time for you... to go home. Don't stay on Hong Kong Island; we can't let you stay there. Hong Kong Island is not your territory!

(End of this chapter)