Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

1983 1 Month 30 Day.

Kowloon, DOA Group.

Victoria Harbour outside the window remains bustling and vibrant, the ferry horns piercing through the sea mist, long and resonant. The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, laps against the glass curtain walls of this concrete jungle.

In the general manager's office of DOA Group, the only sound was the gentle lapping of water as tea was poured from a purple clay teapot.

Song Zihao sat behind the large mahogany desk, holding a file containing incriminating information about "Killer Xiong," the head of the security department at Stanley Prison. His brows were slightly furrowed, and his eyes held an indescribable gloom.

Ever since that day when he returned from the prison visit, Lu Jiayao's scarred face and Zhong Tianzheng's seemingly relaxed yet helpless gaze felt like a thorn stuck in his throat.

"Brother Hao."

The office door was pushed open.

Chow Yun-fat strode in, wearing his signature trench coat, sunglasses, and still with a toothpick dangling from his mouth.

This time, he wasn't smiling and joking as usual; instead, he looked serious.

Behind him followed a young man.

The man looked to be in his early twenties, wearing a faded old military green jacket, ordinary jeans, and slightly discolored sneakers. He wasn't particularly burly, even a bit thin, and sported a neat buzz cut.

But the moment he walked in, Song Zihao paused slightly as he was pouring tea.

As a seasoned veteran who had weathered countless battles, Song Zihao was extremely sensitive to a certain aura—the scent of a ruthless person.

This young man, though standing there silently and somewhat reserved, gave the impression of a dagger without a sheath—sharp, dangerous, and ready to draw blood at any moment. Especially his eyes, with more white than black, conveyed a disregard for life.

"Brother Hao," Little Ma pointed to the young man behind him, pulled up a chair and sat down, "this is the kind of person you're looking for."

"What's your name?" Song Zihao put down the teapot, looked up, and sized up the other person.

"Ah Wu," the young man spoke. His voice was a little hoarse, devoid of emotion, as if he were stating something unrelated to himself, "Now I'm involved with the Number Gang."

"A number-based gang?" Song Zihao raised an eyebrow. "A pile of loyalty or a pile of courage?"

"He didn't pay his respects to anyone, nor did he follow any boss," Little Ma answered for him, his tone tinged with admiration. "Brother Hao, this kid is a freak. He's a 'lone wolf,' specializing in collecting debts and guarding brothels. He fights for whoever pays him, takes the money, and leaves. He never causes trouble and doesn't care about any gang loyalty."

At this point, Little Ma leaned close to Song Zihao's ear and whispered, "And he's incredibly skilled. I've tested him; he took on ten thugs wielding watermelon knives all by himself in just two minutes. And he's ruthless, always aiming for joints and vital points. That kind of fighting style... he's a natural-born daredevil."

"Hello, Lone Wolf."

Song Zihao nodded, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.

In this world, those who value loyalty are worthy of respect, but sometimes, those who only care about money are more reliable. Because money is inanimate; it doesn't betray you. Loyalty is too easily corrupted and too easily exploited.

"sit."

Song Zihao pointed to the leather swivel chair opposite him, then picked up the purple clay teapot, took another cup, slowly poured a cup of hot tea, and pushed it in front of A Wu.

This action startled A-Wu for a moment.

Having spent years in the underworld, he was used to being bossed around by big shots, but this was the first time someone had ever poured him tea. And the person was none other than the legendary Sung Chi-ho, the general manager of DOA, a big shot even the Kowloon Walled City had to give him face.

"Thank you... thank you, Brother Hao."

Awu sat down, somewhat flattered, and picked up the teacup with both hands, but dared not drink it. He just looked at Song Zihao with restraint.

"Ah Wu, since Xiao Ma introduced you, I won't beat around the bush." ​​Song Zihao leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced, his eyes piercing. "I have a business deal I'd like to find someone to do. But this deal is a bit special, you could even say... a bit unlucky."

"Brother Hao, just say it." Ah Wu put down his teacup, his eyes instantly becoming focused. "As long as the money is right, I'll do anything—murder, arson, kidnapping."

"It's not that complicated, but the level of danger is no less than murder or arson."

Song Zihao shook his head, took out a photo of Stanley Prison from the drawer, and threw it on the table.

"I'm going to take you here."

A-Wu glanced at the photo, his expression unchanged, as if going to prison and going to a restaurant made no difference to him.

"Go to jail?"

"Yes, I'll arrange for someone to fabricate a charge against you, something like assault or robbery, with a sentence of six months to a year. Then I'll send you to Stanley Prison," Song Zihao stared into his eyes. "Once you're inside, you'll need to protect two people."

As he spoke, he took out two more photos.

One photo is of Chung Tin-ching, and the other is of Lu Chia-yao.

"The guy with glasses is called A-Yao, he'll be released in three months. The one who's laughing like a monkey is called A-Zheng, he's my old brother, he'll be serving a few more years."

"There's a prison leader named Datun and a security chief named Killer Xiong who's causing them trouble."

"Your task is simple: be their bodyguard."

"In the three months before Ah Yao is released from prison, I don't want to see him get another wound. As for Ah Zheng, you have to keep him on for six months. During these six months, I will try to arrange for him to be transferred to another prison or apply for parole."

After hearing the mission, A-Wu remained silent for a few seconds.

He picked up the photo, looked at it, memorized the faces of the two people, and then put it back.

"We can't bring weapons into prison," A-Wu said calmly. "Besides, that Da-Tun guy definitely has a lot of men under him, at least a dozen."

"What? Scared?" Little Ma provoked from the side, "If you're scared, you can leave now. We at DOA don't keep cowards."

"Afraid?" A cold smile curled at the corner of Wu's mouth, a confidence that belonged to a top-notch thug and an extreme thirst for violence. "I can't say for sure outside, but in those enclosed places... if you're ruthless enough, I can take on a whole group by myself."

"Very good," Song Zihao nodded in satisfaction. "Since you are confident, let's talk about the price."

He opened the drawer, took out two stacks of brand-new Hong Kong dollars, and placed them on the table.

"This is the deposit. As for the payment..." Song Zihao looked at A Wu and held up three fingers. "Since you're in this business, let's settle it according to the rules of the underworld."

"Three thousand yuan for each attack, if the opponent has three or fewer people."

"If there are more than three people on the other side, or if they use weapons, it's five thousand dollars."

"If it's a leader of the level of Datun, and they send you to 'teach' him a lesson, it'll cost you six thousand yuan."

"Furthermore, if you get injured inside, I'll cover all your medical expenses, plus additional disability benefits. After you get out, DOA will arrange a high-paying job for you, and you'll be working for me from now on."

This is an absolutely astronomical price.

In Hong Kong in 1983, the monthly salary of an average worker was just over a thousand dollars. This was considered a generous salary.

However, A-Wu did not take the stack of money.

He sat there, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. After a long while, he looked up, his eyes revealing the shrewdness of a businessman.

"Brother Hao, this price isn't right."

"You think it's too little?" Little Ma frowned. "Ah Wu, you should be content. This price is already the highest in the underworld. It's only because Brother Hao is generous that the price is so low. If it were anyone else, the price would be at least halved."

"It's not that I think it's too little," A-Wu shook his head, his tone serious, "it's that this calculation method is wrong."

"Brother Hao, you want me to keep those two safe, right?"

"If I'm ruthless enough and famous enough to scare that big guy into submission in the first fight, and he never dares to make a move again, then wouldn't I get no money at all? What's the point of going to jail then? Is it because the food there is good?"

"Besides, even if we don't fight, I still have to keep an eye on them all the time, which is also labor. How about compensation for that?"

Song Zihao paused for a moment, then smiled.

This kid is not only good at fighting, but also quite smart.

"So how do you want to calculate it?" Song Zihao asked with great interest.

Ah Wu held up six fingers: "Base salary plus commission, six thousand yuan per month."

"This six thousand dollars is my hard-earned money for going to jail, and also my bodyguard fee. Whether there's a fight or not, I have to pay this money."

"As for the money for the fight, we'll settle it as you just said. One fight, one bill."

"But I can assure you," A-Wu's eyes instantly turned sharp as knives, "that once they take your money, no one can touch a hair on their head unless I'm dead."

"Whether it's that Da Tun or Killer Xiong, as long as the money's right, I'll beat him to a pulp even if the King of Hell comes."

"Great!" Song Zihao slammed his hand on the table. "That's satisfying!"

He likes this kind of money-driven approach. People who treat life like business are actually the most trustworthy. Because as long as you can afford it, they will never betray you.

"Six thousand it is! I will transfer the money to your designated account on the first of every month."

"in addition……"

Song Zihao threw the HK$20,000 directly to Awu.

"Take the deposit you were promised. Before you go in, eat and drink well, and get yourself in good shape."

"Also, if you need to 'pay more,' don't be stingy," Song Zihao stood up and offered his hand. "As long as you can protect my brother, I'll give you as much as you want."

A-Wu hesitated for a moment when he saw the outstretched hand, then wiped the sweat from his hands on his clothes and gripped it tightly.

"Brother Hao is so generous."

A-Wu grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, looking harmless. "Pleasure doing business with you."