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

Chapter 211, Part Two: The Leader
"Based on the jury's review, this court finds Cheng Zhiqiang and Liang Yingjie guilty of trafficking in dangerous drugs!"

Cheng Zhiqiang was sentenced to four years and three months in prison, and Liang Yingjie was sentenced to three years and eight months in prison, without parole!

As the judge's gavel fell, Cheng Zhiqiang felt a sharp pain in his eardrums.

The air conditioning in the courtroom was so strong that goosebumps rose on his bare wrists.

Several henchmen in the gallery exchanged glances, while lawyer Paul, sitting in the last row, made a reassuring gesture to him.

In contrast, Liang Yingjie, who is a year younger than Cheng Zhiqiang, appears much calmer due to his family background as a gangster.

"Take away!"

The bailiff's voice was devoid of any emotion.

The pain of the handcuffs digging into his wrist bone brought Cheng Zhiqiang back to his senses. Two correctional officers flanked him on either side as they passed through the side door of the courtroom. He caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the glass—his dark blue shirt was wrinkled like pickled vegetables, and a few strands of his slicked-back hair fell across his forehead.

The fluorescent lights in the corridor hummed, making his face appear bluish.

"the first time?"

The older correctional officer asked, his keychain jingling at his waist.

Before boarding the vehicle, the discipline personnel appeared to be fairly 'amiable'.

Cheng Zhiqiang twitched his lips but didn't answer. During the thirty seconds the elevator descended, he counted the floor indicator lights, his back teeth aching from clenching them.

On the prison van heading to the prison, the smell was like moldy rags mixed with bleach, and the new inmates inside coughed and cursed incessantly.

Upon entering the prison area, the sky seemed to darken.

"Take off your clothes!"

In the locker room, Cheng Zhiqiang's fingers paused for two seconds on the button knot.

The correctional officer impatiently banged on the metal cabinet with his baton: "You motherfucker, are you deaf?!"

The shirt and pants were thrown into the plastic basket one by one, and the fake Rolex watch was the last item thrown in.

When the metal watch strap made a crisp sound as it hit the edge of the basket, Cheng Zhiqiang's eye twitched. This was a watch that his boss had personally put on him last year.

It was as natural as when the correctional officers put handcuffs on him today.

"Turn around, bend over, cough."

As correctional officers issued emotionless orders, some apprehensive inmates began to comply.

But this order still made Cheng Zhiqiang, the young gangster, somewhat unhappy.

“Sir, even if we are criminals, we should still have human rights.”

What are you trying to do by making these gestures? You want to…

"Zhiqiang, shut up!"

Although Liang Yingjie was reluctant, he quickly did as he was told, while reminding Cheng Zhiqiang of his own shortcomings.

But it was clearly too late. The discipline rubber baton had already been used, giving Cheng Zhiqiang, this arrogant gangster, his first lesson in prison.

"what--"

A sharp cry of pain rang out, and the locker room immediately fell silent.

"Remember, here, unless the officer tells you to answer, any sound you make is invalid!"

The guard could spot Cheng Zhiqiang, the biggest troublemaker in the crowd, at a glance. While intimidating a group of new inmates, he didn't stop wielding his baton.

Another cry of pain rang out, accompanied by Cheng Zhiqiang's screams, and his attitude immediately softened considerably.

"Officer... I've already done as instructed, why do you need to..."

Snapped--

A crisp slap rang out across his face.

A prison guard, who looked like a menacing figure, grinned maliciously, grabbed Cheng Zhiqiang by the hair, and angrily rebuked him.

"When the officer speaks to you, you should answer 'Yes, officer!' Do you understand?!"

"I...I understand...Yes, sir!"

The cold touch of the plastic gloves made his muscles tense, the smell of disinfectant suddenly became strong, and the nozzle above his head sprayed water without warning.

Cheng Zhiqiang held his breath in the sudden cold water and heard the correctional officer's mechanical voice: "You can only stop after three minutes of washing!"

Standing soaking wet in the middle of the changing room, he took the light gray prison uniform handed to him—a short-sleeved shirt, knee-length shorts, and plastic slippers, all the tags of which had been cut off.

All dignity vanished in the wash of disinfectant; a white cloth strip was sewn onto her left chest: 142857.

"Remember your number; that will be your name from now on!"

The correctional officer pushed a stack of forms over: "Sign."

During the process of entering the cell, the group of people seemed much more obedient.

As the gates of the prison area rose, the iron chain winch emitted a teeth-grinding creaking sound.

Cheng Zhiqiang was led into an assessment room with walls covered in protective padding. A doctor in a white coat shone a small flashlight into his pupils.

"Does he/she have suicidal tendencies?"

"No, my boss said that people who commit suicide will become water ghosts!"

Cheng Zhiqiang stared at the curry stains on the doctor's collar: "Even reincarnation requires queuing."

The doctor just smiled and shook his head: "Remember this, young man. Here, discipline is more effective than any big shot's words."

Especially someone as hot-blooded as you, I certainly don't want you coming to me for mental health issues later!

The fingerprint scanner flashed red, and as his right hand was pressed against the cold glass plate, a heart-wrenching scream echoed down the corridor.

"I'm from the Tung Ying Society! Who dares to lock me up in the water room!"

The footsteps and the dull thuds of batons striking flesh lasted for more than ten seconds before silence fell.

"Routine procedure."

The doctor handed over a psychological test questionnaire: "Choose the option that best matches your answer."

The corridor of the C block cell was cleaner than I had imagined, but the smell of ammonia was still pungent.

Cheng Zhiqiang's slippers pattered on the cement floor. Countless probing arms stretched out from behind the iron railings on both sides. Some people whistled, while others tapped the iron railings with their fingernails, playing the melody of "Shanghai Bund".

"142857, your bed."

In the six-person cell, five pairs of eyes were fixed on him at the same time.

The burly man on the upper bunk by the window, with a blood-dripping Guan Gong tattoo on the back of his neck, was filing the edge of a plastic spoon with a nail file. Cheng Zhiqiang folded the distributed towel into a square and placed it beside his pillow. He heard a hoarse voice behind him:
"Is Heyi Sheng so poor that it has to send in traitors to make up the numbers?"

The plastic spoon snapped in two. Cheng Zhiqiang slowly turned around and saw the snake tattoo on the burly man's forearm—a distinctive mark of the Xinji Wanchai area.

The cell suddenly became so quiet that you could hear the sound of water flushing the toilet next door.

"Is that you, Brother Silly Biao?"

Cheng Zhiqiang took out a mint from his pocket, which was issued by the Correctional Services Department, and gently placed it on the other person's bed: "Our boss has been wanting to have tea with you to explain what happened in Yau Ma Tei last time."

The man called Sha Biao crushed the candy in his palm: "Explain your mother! My little brother is still on a ventilator at Mary Hospital!"

The aroma of mint burst forth in the sweltering cell, and Cheng Zhiqiang saw that four other prisoners had already formed a fan shape around him.

"We'll pay double the medical expenses."

He took a half step back, his heel touching the metal bed frame. "Also, I know who reported your warehouse to the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau."

At the same time, he gave Liang Yingjie, who was imprisoned with him, a wink, signaling him to be prepared.

Back in the gang days, a big shot taught me well at a food stall. If I were ever lucky enough to end up in prison, even if I had to be subservient to others, I would still put on a tough front.

The first beating upon entering the warehouse is unavoidable, but even if you have to endure it, you must earn the value you deserve!

Unexpectedly, Liang Yingjie, Cheng Zhiqiang's best friend, had already obediently squatted down, covered his head with his hands, and looked like he was being slaughtered.

"Hey A! You son of a bitch, how can you be so spineless?!"

Cheng Zhiqiang couldn't help but curse, but without his companions to support him, his courage had already waned considerably.

Just as he was bracing himself for the beating, an old voice came from the corner of the cell.

"Come on, you idiot Biao. He's one of our gang's youngsters. You're slapping him in front of me? Aren't you disrespecting me?"

Upon hearing this, everyone in the warehouse stopped moving in unison.

Cheng Zhiqiang mustered his courage and glanced into the corner, where he saw an overweight old man putting down his newspaper and smiling at him.

Sha Biao gritted his teeth, then shoved Cheng Zhiqiang in annoyance.

“Uncle, it’s rare to see you in charge. Since you’ve spoken up this time, I’ll let this kid off the hook for now.”

But when you can't see me, you can't blame me for not giving you face!

The old man just smiled and waved his hand: "It doesn't matter, you don't need to give me face!"

Anyway, when I'm out in public, I don't see many people who are willing to give me face.

Even with the "Wo" prefix, there are still people willing to acquire our Wo Luen Shing company!

"This……"

Sha Biao gritted his teeth and finally could only glare fiercely at Cheng Zhiqiang.

"You're lucky, kid."

Uncle will be released from prison in eight months. You'll have your time to enjoy life!

Then, with a wave of his hand, Sha Biao dismissed the prisoners.

Cheng Zhiqiang was a shrewd young thug. When he saw that Sha Biao was afraid of the old man in the corner, he immediately realized that this man was someone important.

Seeing that the other person seemed to be protecting her, she quickly ran over, ready to strike up a conversation with the old man. "Uncle, thank you for your kindness. May I ask your name?"

Cheng Zhiqiang subconsciously reached into his pocket for a cigarette, only to realize that he was already in prison and didn't even have the right to pick up cigarette butts to smoke.

"Don't bother, I won't take the cigarettes offered by the medicine seller!"

The old man sat cross-legged on the bed, then looked Cheng Zhiqiang up and down a few times before continuing to speak.

"You haven't been in this business for very long, how old are you?"

"I'll be twenty next month. I finished Form Five last year and then came out to work with my boss, Shorty Ming."

Working in the North Point area, it's just a pity I didn't know this old hand at the business!

Cheng Zhiqiang adopted a humble demeanor and earnestly tried to get close to the old man in front of him.

"I'm just bragging. I know you, Brother Shorty Ming. You used to make fish balls, but it seems you've improved. You've even gone to sell medicine!"

Chuiji sneered, then took out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from the bedside, opened it, and handed one to Cheng Zhiqiang.

Upon hearing this, Cheng Zhiqiang was so shocked that he didn't know what to do. No wonder Sha Biao and his group gave him so much face. It turned out that the person sitting in front of him was the former leader of He Lian Sheng, Chui Ji.

After silently offering prayers to the gods, Cheng Zhiqiang hurriedly accepted the cigarette offered by Chuiji and let Chuiji take out matches to light it for him.

Just then, a prison guard on duty came to visit a new inmate and caught a glimpse of Cheng Zhiqiang smoking a cigarette as he entered the cell.

This startled Cheng Zhiqiang so much that his face turned pale. Remembering the prison guards' methods, he instinctively reached out to stub out the cigarette in his hand.

Unexpectedly, when the prison guard saw the bag of Marlboro in Chuiji's hand, he simply walked over without saying a word, and his expression softened considerably.

"Uncle, steak again for dinner?"

Hearing the prison guard's question, Cheng Zhiqiang was so shocked that his jaw dropped.

After Chuiji nodded slightly, the prison guard turned his head and gave Cheng Zhiqiang a meaningful look.

He immediately said, "From now on, when Uncle enjoys smoking, he should find a secluded place to squat down and smoke!"

If you still don't understand the rules, the kitchen staff will teach you!

"Yes sir!"

Cheng Zhiqiang stamped his foot and answered with a resounding thud.

Only after the prison guard left did he kneel down in front of Chuiji with a thud.

"Uncle, I want to stay with you in the prison from now on."

I know massage, I can prepare foot baths, and I can help loosen up your muscles and joints. You can trust me, I promise I won't let you down!

The dull thud of the iron door closing still echoed in his ears as Cheng Zhiqiang knelt before the sledgehammer, his forehead pressed against the cold cement floor.

In the shadow cast by the overhead light in the cell, he could see the worn lines on the plastic slippers.

"Get up, young man."

The sound of blowing on the chicken was like sandpaper rubbing: "I'm not your boss, no need for such formalities."

When Cheng Zhiqiang looked up, he saw that Chuiji was fanning himself with a fan made of folded newspaper.

"Uncle, I..."

"Go take a shower first."

Chuiji interrupted him, pointing to the bucket in the corner: "You smell like disinfectant, it's giving me a headache."

As cold water was poured onto his back, Cheng Zhiqiang heard the sound of the prison cell's iron gate opening and closing.

After showering, he returned to his cell and saw two prisoners wearing orange vests hunching over as they entered, carrying something in their hands.

"Uncle, afternoon tea today."

The lead prisoner lowered his voice to a whisper: "The pineapple buns that Ah Bing specially saved for us in the kitchen, along with milk tea and steak, will arrive later."

Chuiji grunted in agreement, casually breaking open a pineapple bun, the crispy crust falling onto the bed sheet.

Cheng Zhiqiang's stomach growled involuntarily, and he realized that he hadn't even had a sip of water since the interrogation that morning.

"Let's eat!"

Blowing the chicken, he tossed his other half over: "Why are you staring at me like that?"

The moment the sweet aroma of the pineapple bun exploded in his mouth, Cheng Zhiqiang almost bit his tongue.

The milk tea was in a plastic bag with a straw inserted, and it was still warm.

He stole a glance at the chicken as it ate slowly and methodically, and suddenly realized the significance of the name "Wo Luen Shing".

"Uncle, why are you so good to me?"

"My uncle had a dream a while ago that his family went to the Tin Hau Temple to offer thanks to the gods."

The Goddess of the Sea gave me a revelation: "I should be eliminating my karma. Saving even one of you young people would be a great act of merit!"

During the evening exercise, Cheng Zhiqiang followed closely behind Chuiji.

The setting sun hung over the barbed wire fence of the playground, and dozens of prisoners strolled in twos and threes, as if there were an invisible boundary, automatically making way for the prisoner.

"Uncle!"

Liang Yingjie suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his face still bearing bruises: "The kitchen needs someone to wash dishes, so I applied..."

"Crazy line!"

Cheng Zhiqiang grabbed Liang Yingjie by the collar: "Stay close to your uncle and don't wander off!"

But Chuiji laughed: "Young man, you know how to think. The kitchen is a good place."

He patted Leung Ying-kit on the shoulder and said, "Tell Ah Bing that you are the one I'm talking about."

Suddenly, a commotion broke out at the other end of the playground. Cheng Zhiqiang saw Sha Biao leading four or five people to surround a thin prisoner. The dull thud of batons striking flesh could be heard from a great distance.

Two prison guards stood in their guard post smoking, seemingly oblivious to the scene.

"The newcomer owes money."

He didn't even look up when he blew on the chicken's head, and crushed the cigarette butt with the sole of his shoe: "Silly Biao, collect your debts, wolf is dead."

Cheng Zhiqiang felt a cold sweat break out on his back. If he hadn't been bragging, he would be the one being ganged up on right now.

If I hadn't been assigned to the chicken-blowing prison to have him atone for his sins before the Goddess of Heaven, then wouldn't I be...?

Just as he was about to express his gratitude, he suddenly heard a sharp whistle.

"142857!" The prison guard called out his number from the iron gate.

"Lawyer visit!"

The glass partitions in the visiting room were so blurry they looked like they were covered in oil. Cheng Zhiqiang picked up the phone and heard Paul's anxious voice.

"The boss told me to ask you where the warehouse key is hidden. The police didn't find enough goods..."

Cheng Zhiqiang caught a glimpse of the prison guard taking notes, and his Adam's apple bobbed a few times: "Tell the big boss that there's a letter behind the ancestral tablet in my house."

After hanging up the phone and turning around, Cheng Zhiqiang obediently returned to his cell under the guidance of the prison guard.

Chuiji was reading an evening paper that still smelled of ink when he saw Cheng Zhiqiang and Liang Yingjie come over to pay their respects. He put down the paper and greatly appreciated the two young men's sensible behavior.

"The lawyer came to visit on the very first day we were in the warehouse. It seems things have to get urgent!"

Cheng Zhiqiang was secretly startled. Subconsciously, he wanted to find an excuse to get by, but deep down he was unwilling to lie to Chuiji.

So he stood there, his face flushed, stammering for a long time, not knowing what to say.

Chuiji stretched and yawned. Cheng Zhiqiang, seeing the opportunity, quickly went around to the side and massaged his shoulders.

"You loser, you're asking me to take the blame for a young upstart like you, and you're not even willing to spend money to bribe the big shots in prison. I advise you not to follow me!"
Why not tell the police? You might get a reduced sentence!

As he spoke, Chuiji turned his head and smiled at Cheng Zhiqiang: "Do you know any cops? If not, I can introduce you to one!"

Cheng Zhiqiang stopped massaging, and for a moment he wondered if the police were setting him up.

But he quickly dismissed the idea, after all, a person like Chuiji couldn't fake it!

"Uncle, you've been secretly colluding with the imperial aura. How am I supposed to face the world after this?"
Furthermore, didn't you say that the two factions should look out for each other? How could I possibly put my boss in such a predicament...?

"The pharmacy is filthy! A scoundrel like Shorty Ming would be doomed if he fell into the hands of us and the Wo Shing!"

Chuiji gestured for Cheng Zhiqiang to stand aside, then spoke earnestly.

"I know you're obsessed with chivalry right now, but that's alright. In time, you'll naturally come to terms with reality."

"So, come with me to the mine the day after tomorrow. Once you see clearly what happens when no one cares for you in the prison cell, maybe you'll change your mind!"

Cheng Zhiqiang was confused by what Chuiji had said, but a bad feeling began to creep into his heart.

However, he didn't say anything more, but just sighed helplessly, turned around and picked up Chuiji's foot basin, preparing to go to the water room to fetch water for Chuiji to wash his feet.

Cheng Zhiqiang was a perceptive man; he knew that in Zone C, a chick's foot basin was more effective than anyone else's face.

With this thing by his side, aside from being unable to leave the cell, basically no one could restrain his behavior.

……

That night, an hour after lights out, most of the prisoners in Area A, who had finished work at the mine during the day, were exhausted and went to sleep early.

One man, however, was an exception. He lay on the hard bed, staring at the dark ceiling. An invisible pressure seemed to be pressing down on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

This man was none other than Fatty Li, who had become emaciated. Nearly a year in prison had long since instilled in him a habit of passive acceptance of his fate.

However, recently, Sanghao and his ilk have stopped trying to torment themselves in various ways.

Fatty Li felt increasingly uneasy. He felt that the day he feared most was getting closer and closer...

(End of this chapter)