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

October 6, 1983, early morning.

Inside the Governor's Mansion on Victoria Peak, the lights stayed on all night.

Governor Sir Edward sat alone behind his large black walnut desk, the ashtray in front of him overflowing with burnt-out cigar butts.

His face was so gloomy it seemed like it could drip water, and he clutched a diplomatic telegram that had just been sent from London.

The secret telegram was laced with deadly detail: Buckingham Palace and 10 Downing Street were extremely disappointed with Thomas's "incompetence" and "greed." Most importantly, the so-called "list of vested interests" in Thomas's possession had become a Damocles' sword hanging over the entire British cabinet.

London's stance is clear—to address the hidden dangers at all costs.

Yude sighed deeply, recalling Lu Chen's "friendly" reminder before he left.

"Shut him up forever..." Yud muttered to himself, a resolute glint in his eyes. "Lu Chen, you greedy dragon, you even scheme against me for this dirty work."

Yude knew perfectly well that if he let Lu Chen's men take action, he, as governor, would become a complete laughingstock in Lu Chen's eyes, and might even give Lu Chen new leverage against him... Therefore, he had to issue the order himself. This was not only to solve the problem, but also to show those important figures in London that he, Yude, was still the Empire's sharpest and most obedient scalpel in the Far East.

"Someone come here." Yud pressed the megaphone on the table, his voice cold and devoid of any warmth.

……

The following evening, at the Central Police Station headquarters, a specially made cell for serious offenders.

The walls here are painted with a cold, soundproof gray paint, and the incandescent lights in the corridor emit a monotonous and unsettling hum.

Thomas was curled up in the corner of the single bed. The once high-spirited and powerful Customs Commissioner of Hong Kong now wore a loose prison uniform and looked dejected.

Although he had no visible external injuries, after several days of intense interrogation by Chen Jun and Li Shutang, his mental state was on the verge of collapse.

The interrogation methods were extremely "sophisticated." Although they did not cause him physical pain, they used sleep deprivation, exposure to bright light, and endless psychological attacks to grind down every inch of his inner defenses.

Even so, Thomas still harbored a last glimmer of hope.

After all, he controlled the interests of countless nobles and even a key figure in the London cabinet, and held the "smuggling pledges" of dozens of wealthy British men in his hands. In his view, this "bargaining chip" was too heavy, so heavy that Youde and Han Yili dared not easily let him die.

"They will come to save me...they have to come to save me." Thomas stared intently at the closed iron gate, his fingernails digging white marks into the wall. "If I go to court, all of London will go to hell with me."

What he failed to realize was that in the balance of political games, when the threat posed by a person's existence far outweighs their usefulness, they cease to be a "bargaining chip" and become a "source of pollution" that must be eliminated.

Time passed second by second, and midnight arrived, the darkest and deepest time of the night.

The rhythmic footsteps in the corridor outside the cell had vanished. An eerie, deathly silence engulfed Thomas like a tidal wave.

Just then, a faint and rapid beam of flashlight suddenly flashed through the observation window of the iron gate and then landed on Thomas's face.

Thomas was jolted awake, his eyes glazed over by the bright light. He instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes, but his heart pounded wildly with intense anticipation.

"Click".

A very faint sound of a key turning was heard.

The heavy alloy door was slowly pushed open a crack. A young man in a dark blue prison guard uniform slipped in, looking nervous, clutching a bunch of keys tightly in his hand, and made a shushing gesture to Thomas.

"Mr. Thomas, keep your voice down!" the young man said in a low voice, his tone urgent as if he were firing off a machine gun.

Thomas stumbled out of bed, grabbed the young man's arm, and his voice trembled with excitement: "Who are you? Who sent you? Is it the Governor?"

"You don't need to know the name of the important person up there," the young prison guard said in a low voice, glancing warily down the corridor. "Everything's been arranged outside. The car is in the underground parking lot. As soon as you leave the police station, we'll take you to Saigon Pier. There's a cargo ship there that goes directly to Canada. Your passport and money are in the car. This is your only chance!"

"Come to Canada University...yes, let's go to Canada University!" Thomas seemed to have grasped at a lifeline, and without even bothering to put on his coat, he excitedly followed behind the young prison guard.

The two walked through the dimly lit corridor.

This stretch of road felt like an eternity to Thomas.

The young prison guard was clearly very familiar with the security procedures here. He led Thomas around several key surveillance cameras, taking the fire escape route that was usually only used by maintenance workers.

"Wait!" Thomas suddenly stopped, looking at the dark corner ahead with suspicion. "Why aren't there any guards over there?"

"The schedule for tonight has been changed by a big shot. Those guys are having a late-night snack in the canteen right now." The young prison guard turned around, his eyes filled with anxiety. "Sir, hurry! If the patrol comes back, we won't be able to leave!"

Blinded by the idea of ​​"freedom," Thomas no longer had any doubts. He followed the young man down to the third underground level, panting heavily.

This is an underground parking lot that the police headquarters doesn't use often. The air is filled with a musty smell of stale engine oil and dampness, and a few dim motion-sensor lights only emit a faint glow when the two approach.

In the empty parking lot, the huge load-bearing columns stand like silent giants, casting long shadows on the ground.

Thomas leaned against a pillar, panting heavily, his eyes greedily searching for the car that could take him out of the country.

"Where's the car? Where's the car?"

"Behind that stone pillar," the young prison guard pointed ahead.

Thomas quickened his pace, but the instant he rounded the stone pillar, he froze on the spot.

Instead of the expected car, there was an older, stern-faced prison guard. He was leaning against a black police car, holding a loaded .38 revolver.

"You..." Thomas hadn't even had a chance to ask.

The older prison guard suddenly displayed an exaggerated, even deliberately conspicuous, look of "terror" on his face. Then, he let out a deafening roar into the empty parking lot:

"Halt! An inmate has escaped! Thomas has taken a prison guard hostage and escaped!"

This roar completely shattered Thomas's head.

He turned in astonishment to look at the young prison guard who had led him out, only to find the guard staring at him with a cold, indifferent gaze, as if he were looking at a dead man.

"No...no, it's a misunderstanding! This isn't..."

"Bang!"

The first gunshot echoed powerfully through the enclosed parking lot.

Thomas's body jerked backward, a splash of blood instantly blooming on his prison uniform. Before the intense pain could even register in his brain, two more dull thuds followed.

"Bang! Bang!"

The older prison guard's facial muscles contorted slightly as he pulled the trigger. Three bullets, arranged in a triangular pattern, precisely penetrated Thomas's chest and abdomen.

Thomas staggered a couple of steps, his back slamming heavily against a concrete pillar before sliding limply down the wall to the ground.

He coughed up mouthfuls of blood, and his vision began to blur.

In the final seconds before he lost consciousness, he saw the young prison guard who had always been "caring" towards him calmly pull out his own handgun, which he had prepared beforehand, from his pocket.

Then, the young man knelt down on one knee, placed the gun into Thomas's increasingly cold hand, and pulled the trigger, pointing the muzzle diagonally at the ceiling.

"Do you understand, Chief Constable Thomas?" The young man's voice turned low again, but it carried a chilling, hellish quality. "No one can save you. London doesn't need a talking dead man, and neither does the Governor."

Thomas's pupils contracted violently. He wanted to utter a curse, to shout those names. But all that came out of his throat was the gurgling sound of blood bubbles.

He finally understood.

All that talk about rescuing him, all that talk about flying directly to MIT, it was all a scheme to make the "prison break and murder" story a reality.

What he held in his hand was not the hope of life, but the last nail to be placed on the coffin.

"Tap, tap, tap."

A steady sound of leather shoes came from the entrance of the parking lot.

The foreign chief inspector on duty tonight strode over. He looked at Thomas lying in a pool of blood, then at the two "still in shock" prison guards.

"How is he?" the chief inspector asked.

"Sir, the criminal Thomas has taken a prison guard hostage and attempted to escape through Exit 3 with a gun. Our attempts to stop him were unsuccessful, and he tried to open fire, forcing us to return fire." The older prison guard calmly repeated the draft he had long since memorized.

The chief inspector glanced down at Thomas's unfocused pupils, reached out, and checked his pulse. Confirming he was dead, he straightened up, adjusted his cap, and said expressionlessly to the two witnesses:

"That was very professional. Go write the report, just as I said. Remember, he was killed because he was trying to escape from prison."

"Yes, sir!"

……

The next morning, the sun shone brightly on Hong Kong once again.

But for countless citizens, today's news is even more explosive than yesterday's.

The latest developments were released almost simultaneously by major media outlets under Golden Harvest and official police announcements.

Customs Commissioner Thomas confesses to attempted prison break in the early hours of the morning, was shot dead at the scene!

The newspaper headline was extremely eye-catching. It detailed how Thomas, deeply implicated in a serious crime of antiquities smuggling, orchestrated a clumsy prison break in the early hours of the morning due to immense psychological pressure. He attempted to use the influence of the customs chief to coerce and bribe a young prison guard, but was ultimately discovered by the police and apprehended in the underground parking lot.

The announcement also emphasized that Thomas refused to surrender during his escape and attempted to fire his weapon. In order to maintain public order, the police were forced to take decisive measures.

Immediately afterwards, several media outlets with good relations with the police began a large-scale "positive guidance" campaign.

"The net of justice is vast, and though its meshes are wide, nothing escapes it! Even the head of customs has no special privileges before the law."

"The police force enforces the law impartially and treats everyone equally. Even when facing former high-ranking officials, they remain fearless and decisive in the face of danger!"

For a time, public opinion that had been questioning the corruption within the Hong Kong British government was successfully guided into a hymn to "police justice" due to Thomas's "death".

Inside a tea restaurant in Kowloon Walled City.

The citizens, munching on char siu buns, looked at the announcement in the newspaper and sighed with emotion.

"Hey, these foreigners are really tough this time. They even killed their own customs chief. Looks like they're serious."

"Indeed, those foreigners stole so many good things from us. This is what they mean by 'those who do many evil deeds will surely perish'."

"Screw you, this is obviously those foreigners trying to silence him and make this warden take the blame. Let me tell you, my second uncle's wife's brother is a prison guard, it's all over there..."

Guided by these media outlets, most people in Hong Kong exclaimed that justice had been served. Those who had worried that the Nakajima Group would escape punishment due to its powerful backing now raised their glasses in celebration.

Only certain established families sitting in their mansions in Deep Water Bay and Repulse Bay, and the lords far away in London, let out a long sigh of relief the moment they saw the newspaper.

The storm appears to have subsided.

But at the Lu family manor on the mountaintop, Lu Chen looked at the outdated report on the dining table and simply smiled faintly at the boy beside him.

"You see, the Governor's efficiency has always been very high."

Lu Chen cut open the sunny-side-up egg on the plate, watching the yolk slowly flow out. His eyes were as deep as the opening scene of last night's murder. "Thomas is dead. Wheelock's dinner party should begin."

The wind blew across Victoria Harbour once again.

A funeral for the dead has ended, but a process of capital's devouring has only just begun.