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

Chapter 212, Part 3: Against My Will

On a late June morning, a blinding sun hung over the exercise yard of Stanley Prison.

Fat Li squatted in the shadows in the corner, scratching white marks on the cement floor with his fingernails.

His prison uniform hung loosely on his body—after eight months in prison, the once burly magazine owner had become nothing but skin and bones.

"Sector A, Unit 10711, step forward!"

The prison guard's roar struck Fatty Li like a blow to the back. He jumped up reflexively, his knees cracking under the strain.

Today it was the workers' turn to work at the Lantau Island quarry, and his name was on the list.

Fat Li's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and sweat slid down his temples into his collar.

For the past few months, he has lived in the shadow of Sanghao like a frightened bird.

He had memorized the prison rules, but then Sanghao and the others suddenly stopped torturing him, which was more chilling than the continued abuse.

Just like a butcher stopping whipping a pig awaiting slaughter—that's not mercy, it's a signal that the knife is about to fall.

"What are you dawdling about?"

The prison guard's baton pressed against his lower back, and Fatty Li staggered into the line, glancing out of the corner of his eye as he saw Sang Hao exchanging glances with several henchmen.

They wore knowing sneers, and this behavior only fueled Fatty Li's rage.

"Sir, I'm not feeling well today. Could I ask for a day off to see a doctor?"

When Fat Lai asked the question, the prison guard only gave him a "what do you think?" look, then gestured for him to be quiet and continued to read out the next list.

As the prison van carrying prisoners to work crossed the Tsing Ma Bridge, Fat Lai pressed his forehead against the scorching iron bars.

The sea outside the window shimmered like scattered silver light; freedom seemed so close yet so far away.

He suddenly recalled the wild party he had held here on a yacht with a boatload of models, a scene that seemed so distant now…

"We've arrived! Everyone get off the bus!"

The prison guard's shout interrupted his thoughts.

The quarry is like a gaping maw, devouring an endless stream of stones.

The giant crusher roared, spewing out dust that formed a gray curtain in the sunlight.

Fat Li mechanically took the shovel. The moment his fingers touched the metal, a chill ran down his spine—this tool was perfect for smashing a person's skull.

"Fatty Li, long time no see!"

A familiar voice came from behind him, and Fatty Li froze. He slowly turned around and saw Chuiji leaning against a pile of rubble, smoking, with two young prisoners standing behind him.

Fatty Li's knees began to tremble. The moment he saw Chuiji, his unease was further confirmed.

"Blow...blow chicken brother..."

Fat Li's tongue seemed to be tied in knots: "It's not my business... it's the Political Department... it's the foreigners who are messing with you..."

But Chuiji looked away and spoke to the young man beside him.

"Hey kid, did you see that? No matter how powerful a boss is, one wrong step and he'll be finished!"

He flicked his cigarette ash: "The waters of the gang are very deep. Today you may be riding high, tomorrow you may be lying dead in the street."

How many big bosses can emerge from ten thousand gangsters? And think about it, how many of those big bosses will have a good end?
"So what if I'm the head of Wo Shing Wo? I'm still here in jail with you all!"

Cheng Zhiqiang curled his lip and said, "Uncle, loyalty is what matters in this business. Although my boss, Dwarf Ming, has wronged me, I would never betray him!"

"I'm not discussing loyalty with you!"

Chuiji suddenly burst into laughter, then looked at Liang Yingjie beside him: "Ah Jie, what do you think?"

Liang Yingjie lowered his head, his voice soft but clear: "Uncle, I've thought it all through. I'm willing to do anything after I get out of prison... but I'll never be a gangster again!"

Fat Li stood there, like a forgotten ghost.

The chicken's indifference was more frightening than a direct threat—it meant he had been handed over to someone else.

He subconsciously looked around and found the Number Gang members pretending to work not far away, but their eyes were locked on him like vultures.

The midday sun was high overhead, and the roar of the crusher was mixed with the whistles of the prison guards.

When lunchtime arrived, Fatty Li felt like he had been granted a pardon and dragged his shovel toward the rest area.

Just then, he felt something hard pressing against his lower back.

"Fatty Li, let's talk in private!"

Sanghao's henchman, Ah Gui, whispered in his ear, the iron rod in his hand pressing lightly against his kidney.

Fat Li was half-pushed and half-shoved to the top of the pile of rubble.

From here, you can overlook the entire work area. The crusher's feed inlet looks like a hungry mouth, constantly devouring the cascading rocks.

"Brother Hao asked me to ask you!"

Ah Gui's voice was laced with laughter: "Have you suffered enough these past six months?"

Fat Li's pupils suddenly contracted.

"I...please tell Brother Hao that I still have some family assets deposited in overseas banks."

"Brother Hao, I'll bail you out! I can pay you!"

Fat Li took a half step back, his heel already dangling over the edge of the pile of rubble.

Ah Gui ignored Fatty Li's words, but suddenly showed a terrified expression: "Hey Fatty Li! Don't do anything rash!"

As he shouted, his right hand suddenly shoved into Fatty Li's chest.

Fat Man Li's world suddenly tilted.

In the instant of his fall, he saw Chuiji standing in the shade in the distance, smoking, his eyes indifferent as if watching a boring movie; he saw Cheng Zhiqiang with his mouth wide open but unable to make a sound; he saw Liang Yingjie covering his eyes, unable to look directly at him.

The roar of the crusher grew closer and closer, drowning out his final scream.

Beep—beep—

The prison guards' whistles were heart-wrenching.

When Cheng Zhiqiang arrived at the accident site, he only saw stone chips mixed with blood and foam at the outlet of the crusher.

A few pieces of pebbles covered in minced meat rolled to his feet, with a small patch of tattooed skin stuck to them—the only recognizable part of Fatty Li's body.

"vomit--"

Liang Yingjie turned around and vomited. Cheng Zhiqiang tried to suppress the churning in his stomach, but found that his hands were shaking like a leaf.

The cold, inhuman machine grinds a person into mincemeat, leaving no trace of their body.

This scene is far beyond what a street brawl can compare to!
"Everyone, assemble!"

The assassin leading the team today had a grim face: "Who witnessed what happened?"

No one answered.

"Alright! Forget about eating, just stand here in the sun for two hours, and we'll talk when the investigation team arrives!"

Sanghao was the first to raise his hand: "Sir, Fatty Lai has been saying lately that he doesn't want to live anymore."

He heard the whistle for mealtime and suddenly ran towards the pile of rubble!

"Yeah yeah!"

Ah Gui chimed in, "We tried to stop him, but he's the one who wants to die. Who can stop him?"

Several prisoners in Section A nodded in agreement, their statements remarkably consistent.

The prison guards questioned each prisoner individually, and all they received was the same answer—it was a suicide.

The assassin was well aware of the situation. Seeing that everyone in Area A had agreed on the same story, he immediately gave a wink to one of his subordinates.

"142857!"

The prison guard suddenly pointed at Cheng Zhiqiang: "Where were the people in Block C at that time?"

Cheng Zhiqiang opened his mouth, but saw Chuiji shaking his head slightly behind the prison guard.

He swallowed hard. "Reporting to the officer, we were moving stones on the east side when we heard the shouting and came over."

"143022!"

The prison guard then pointed at Leung Ying-kit.

“Yes, sir!” Liang Yingjie stood at attention: “We…we didn’t see anything!”

The prison van was deathly silent on the way back.

No one talked about the "accident" that had just happened, but everyone's eyes revealed the truth.

Cheng Zhiqiang looked through the iron bars at the receding quarry, where the screams of Fatty Li falling seemed to still echo.

He suddenly realized that in this dog-eat-dog world, without the protection of the chicken, he might not even survive a single day.

That evening, while washing up, Liang Yingjie climbed to Cheng Zhiqiang's bedside.

"Brother Qiang..."

His voice was choked with sobs: "I remembered my dad. Since he died, you've been the one who took the best care of me."

Take my advice: sever ties with the gang. Uncle Chicken promised us that once we're out, he'll find us legitimate jobs!

Cheng Zhiqiang silently moved to the side, and Liang Yingjie curled up beside him like a frightened raccoon.

“When I was seven years old, my dad was slashed more than ten times in Tai Kok Tsui.”

Liang Yingjie's voice was as light as a feather: "My mother said he was a hero, that he sacrificed himself for the gang."

But I know that my mother remarried less than three months after his burial, and when he died, he lay like a stray dog ​​in the back alley; there wasn't even anyone to collect his body!

Cheng Zhiqiang wanted to say something comforting, but found his throat tighten.

He remembered the fake Rolex that Dwarf Ming had put on him, and the promise the big boss had made.

These illusory glories seem so laughable in the face of Fat Li's dismembered corpse.

"Little A!"

Cheng Zhiqiang finally spoke: "The gang is for those who have guts. Don't say such discouraging things. Let's get out of here..."

"There is no 'us' anymore, Brother Qiang!"

Liang Yingjie interrupted him: "I've finally figured it out today. If this continues, I'll either die a horrible death like Fat Lai, or end up like Uncle Chik, spending my time in prison and then in Stanley. This is not the life I want!"

Cheng Zhiqiang sat up abruptly: "Then what do you want? To work as a waiter in a tea restaurant? To live like a dog?"

"At least they're alive."

Liang Yingjie's voice suddenly became firm: "Brother Qiang, haven't you figured it out yet? Today it's Fatty Li who dies, tomorrow it could be you or me!"
The gang won't remember small fry like us!

"Shut up!"

Cheng Zhiqiang lowered his voice and roared, "I, Cheng Zhiqiang, was born to be a gangster! It's either stand up or die! There's no third way!"

A sigh came from behind.

The two then realized that Chuiji had been standing behind them at some point, sitting on the edge of the bed silently smoking.

The flickering red glow of the cigarette butt reflected the disappointment and disdain on his face.

"Uncle..."

Cheng Zhiqiang shouted guiltily.

Blowing Chicken exhaled a smoke ring: "Young man, you chose your own path. Starting tomorrow, I won't interfere in your affairs anymore."

These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over Cheng Zhiqiang's head.

He wanted to explain, to beg for mercy, but he couldn't make a sound.

Before long, the lights-out whistle blew, and in the darkness, only the sound of Chuiji lying back on the bed and Liang Yingjie's suppressed sobs could be heard.

The next day, when they were out for some fresh air, sure enough, Sha Biao's men came knocking on their door.

"Can your uncle protect you for a while, or for a lifetime?"
"You little brat, it's time to settle the score!"

Cheng Zhiqiang took a few steps back, his back pressed against the barbed wire.

He caught a glimpse of Chicken sitting on a bench in the distance, reading a newspaper without even looking up.

"Silly Biao, it's because your younger brother's skills are inferior..."

Sha Biao's fist interrupted his words.

The first blow landed on his abdomen, and Cheng Zhiqiang curled up like a shrimp; the second blow hit his chin, and he heard the sound of his teeth breaking; the third and fourth blows overwhelmed him with pain like a tidal wave.

In a daze, he saw Liang Yingjie trying to rush over to help, but was held down by two henchmen.

"This is interest."

Sha Biao grabbed Cheng Zhiqiang by the hair and pressed his face against the scorching cement floor.

"If Fatty Li hadn't died and the prison hadn't been undergoing a cleanup, I would have sent you on your way tonight!"

It wasn't until Cheng Zhiqiang was nearly unconscious that Sha Biao and his gang of henchmen stopped.

The next three days were the longest nightmare of Cheng Zhiqiang's life.

Every morning, Sha Biao's men would block him in the washroom; at lunchtime, his food would always be "accidentally" spilled; and before lights out at night, there would always be a bedtime activity waiting for him.

On the morning of the fourth day, Cheng Zhiqiang was horrified to discover in the toilet that he was urinating blood!
He curled up on the dirty floor and suddenly remembered the scene of Fatty Li's tragic death.

Death is so close, so close that you can smell the rust in your own blood.

"Brother Qiang..."

Liang Yingjie's voice came from outside the door: "Hold on, I'm going to plead with Uncle!"

"No... no need..."

Cheng Zhiqiang struggled to his feet. He straightened his prison uniform in front of the broken mirror and wiped the blood off his face.

The young man in the mirror had sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones; he was nowhere to be seen with his former arrogant demeanor.

That afternoon, Cheng Zhiqiang dragged his battered body to the library—where Chuiji would read the newspaper every day at this time.

"Uncle..."

Cheng Zhiqiang knelt down, and the sound of his knees hitting the floor made several prisoners turn around and look.

"I know I was wrong!"

The newspaper that was blowing on the chicken didn't budge.

“I am willing to... recant my testimony to the police.”

He slowly put the newspaper down, revealing a sharp, piercing gaze: "You think I'm an informant for the cops?"

"No...no! Uncle, you're right, I just don't understand the ways of the gang!"

"Have you figured it out?"

Cheng Zhiqiang nodded emphatically, a tear mixed with blood dripping onto the floor.

This is not surrender, but awakening—preaching is useless; broken bones are the best lessons!

"Get up!"

Chick closed the newspaper: "I'll arrange for Inspector Chan from the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau to come and visit me tomorrow."

He reached out and patted Cheng Zhiqiang on the shoulder: "Remember to tell Chen Sir everything. With me protecting you, no one, inside or outside, will dare to touch you!"

After receiving Chuiji's promise, Cheng Zhiqiang returned to the prison cell, and sure enough, Sha Biao and his gang never bothered him again.

Liang Yingjie handed him a cigarette, indicating that it was left for him by Chuiji.

Hiding in the empty water room, Cheng Zhiqiang lit a cigarette and listlessly looked up at the ceiling.

At this moment, he felt a sense of relief.

As a gangster aspiring to become a big shot, he is not actually a clueless naiveté.

Taking the blame for your boss is a last resort, and so is betraying your boss!

He realized that Dwarf Ming was a scoundrel, and Blowing Chicken might not be a good person either!
The word "harmony" means mutual help and integration; this is what Chuiji originally said.

So what is oneself?

Blowing the chicken allowed him to bypass the glamour that followed success and confront the stark reality of death.

In the world of martial arts, one is often powerless to change their fate...

(End of this chapter)