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

December 23, interrogation room of the Western District Police Station.

The walls were a somber, cold gray, and the fluorescent lights on the ceiling hummed softly, casting a pale, eerie glow that made the space feel exceptionally desolate. The air was thick with the smell of cheap coffee and a pungent, metallic scent reminiscent of a detention center, carrying with it the smell of rust and fear.

Ni Yongxiao and Lin Kun were detained in two separate interrogation rooms in the deepest recesses. Facing the two powerful demolition bosses who had once wielded immense influence in this city and controlled the fates of countless people, the police gave them no chance to breathe this time. The case files laid out in front of them were astonishingly thick, each page weighing a ton.

In interrogation room A, Lin Kun's sallow face appeared somewhat distorted under the light.

"Caught red-handed, a full 700 kilograms of heroin, with a purity of 70%." Raymond's voice was cold and powerful, each word like a heavy hammer striking Lin Kun's heart. "Lin Kun, you've been in this business for quite a few years now, you should know very well what this means—enough to put you in Stanley Prison for the rest of your lives, and if Hong Kong hadn't abolished the death penalty, you'd be choosing your funeral clothes right now."

Lin Kun stared intently at the photograph, the entire fortune he had amassed over years of drug trafficking, now the irrefutable evidence sent to the gallows. He coughed violently, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably due to the loss of his regular insulin injections.

He finally lowered his head in dejection: "I request a plea bargain..."

In the adjacent interrogation room B, Ni Yongxiao's demeanor was frighteningly calm. He still kept his tie perfectly straight, and his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses remained deep and unfathomable.

Lu Qichang sat opposite him, fiddling with a voice recorder in his hand.

"Ah-Xiao, you planned everything, but you didn't expect Ah-Lai to abandon his evil ways and come to the light, did you?" Lu Qichang's tone carried a hint of satisfaction at the fulfillment of a long-cherished wish. "The evidence is overwhelming, and you were caught red-handed at the transaction site. Moreover, Ah-Lai has already revealed all your hidden warehouses and distribution points. And Luo Ji, his ledger that has been kept for seven years is right on my desk. So, let's talk."

Looking at his reflection in the window, Ni Yongxiao suddenly revealed an extremely bleak smile. He knew that he had not only lost this game, but had lost it completely.

Faced with such overwhelming evidence, any rebuttal seemed pale and powerless. In order to preserve the last shred of dignity as a godfather, to gain some "efficiency" in court, and even more so for his family who were far away overseas and had just escaped the clutches of the tiger, he ultimately chose to compromise after remaining silent—he began to confess to the crimes that could no longer be concealed, but every word he uttered was an excuse for the rest of the Ni family to escape punishment.

He had considered struggling, considered using the Ni family's vast and top-tier legal team to find loopholes in the law. But as Lu Qichang said, the evidence was overwhelming, especially the 700 kilograms of goods—evidence that no amount of eloquence could erase. What made him even more desperate was that his two most trusted men—Luo Ji and A Lai—were currently sitting in the interrogation room next door, meticulously dissecting every clue the Ni family had woven over the years.

"Ah Chang, give me a cigarette." Ni Yongxiao spoke slowly, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper was scraping the ground.

Lu Qichang was silent for a moment, then pushed open the door, lit a cigarette, and handed it to him.

Ni Yongxiao took a deep breath, and amidst the swirling smoke, his expression gradually returned to a calm as still as a withered tree. He knew very well that the tide had turned; the Ni family's behemoth, which had sailed for decades, had finally crashed into the iceberg of the law that night.

With these two tycoons simultaneously "speaking," the entire underground network of Tsim Sha Tsui, and even the whole of Hong Kong Island, suffered a devastating blow within just 24 hours. Raymond Lam personally oversaw the command center, and the second phase of Operation Digital—"Removing the Thorn"—officially began. Hundreds upon hundreds of police officers took to the streets, raiding, arresting, and searching homes. That night, the sirens of police cars on Hong Kong Island almost echoed through the sky. Countless ruthless gangsters were handcuffed in their sleep, and the once invincible Ni family business crumbled under the heavy hammer of the law.

……

One day later, at Kai Tak Airport.

A commercial airliner from Hawaii slowly landed on the runway.

Ni Yongxiao's eldest brother, second sister, and the several still-shaken children disembarked from the plane under the guidance of the flight attendants. They had originally thought that returning to Hong Kong would allow them to see their all-powerful younger brother and return to their warm ancestral home.

However, before they could even step out of the waiting hall, dozens of uniformed police officers surged up like a tide.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ni and Ms. Ni. You are suspected of being involved in the Ni family's illegal asset transfer and money laundering. Please come with us to assist in the investigation."

The cold, clattering sound of handcuffs was particularly jarring in the bustling airport.

When the news reached the interrogation room, Ni Yongxiao was looking down at the bowl of congee in his hand. He didn't show much emotion, because this was exactly what he had expected.

However, in order to protect his family as much as possible, Ni Yongxiao made a final effort. He used the promise of handing over all of the Ni family's secret accounts in Southeast Asia as leverage to obtain leniency from the police. He took all the core charges—from planning the assassination of the police to directing large-scale drug trafficking—on his own.

Ultimately, under his "suicidal" protection, the eldest brother and second sister, because of their lesser involvement and their primary responsibility for managing legitimate overseas assets, were only sentenced to three to five years in prison.

But the third son of the Ni family, the arrogant and reckless younger brother, couldn't escape this fate. He was deeply involved in all of the Ni family's criminal decisions, even leaving direct evidence in several gangland raids. Most importantly, he was too arrogant; the thick stack of intelligence files contained countless testimonies about him. It was foreseeable that this third young master of the Ni family would spend the longest years of his life in that cold, dark room in Stanley Prison.

The Ni family's empire had come to a complete end. That night, Ni Yongxiao sat in the prison van, taking one last look at the neon lights of Tsim Sha Tsui. He knew that from this day forward, this land would no longer belong to the Ni family.

Meanwhile, in an old apartment building in the western district.

The winter rain outside the window pattered against the glass, making a dull sound.

Amei sat on the sofa, a photo of her and Chen Jiaju in front of her. The man in the photo was laughing carefree, trying to shove a large ice cream into her mouth.

For the past week, Ah Mei has been completely distraught. She locked herself in her room, looking at old newspapers over and over again, staring at the headlines about "Super Cop Chan Ka-kui's Death in the Line of Duty." Her tears had long since dried up, leaving only a deep-seated numbness and despair.

"Ka-Kui...you big liar." Ah-Mei stroked the photo, her voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "You said you'd take me to Bali, you said you'd help me pick out my wedding dress...how could you just leave like that?"

The room was terribly cold, but she was completely unaware of it.

Just then, a very faint, heavy footstep came from outside the door, followed by the slight friction sound of the wheelchair's axles turning.

Amei was stunned for a moment, thinking she was hallucinating, until the familiar knocking sound rang out rhythmically.

"Thump, thump-thump, thump."

That was Chan Ka-kui's special code word every time he came home, meaning "I'm home, open the door quickly".

Amei's body trembled violently. She stood up in disbelief, the photo in her hand falling to the ground with a thud. She stumbled towards the door, her hands trembling as she opened it.

Outside the door, the corridor lights were dim.

Uncle Piao was standing there, a complex and gratified smile on his face. And his hand was pushing a specially made wheelchair.

Sitting in the wheelchair was the man whose body was bandaged, but whose eyes were still bright as stars, grinning foolishly at her.

"Ami... I'm back. Um, I might have to reschedule my flight to Bali. I'm afraid I won't be able to get through security looking like this."

Chen Jiaju's voice carried a familiar, lazy quality that Ah Mei both loved and hated.

"Ka...Ka-Kui?!"

Amei suddenly covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face like a burst dam. She didn't care about Chen Jiaju's injuries at all, and rushed over, burying her head deeply in his arms that still smelled of medicine.

"You're not dead! You're really not dead! You bastard! You big bastard!"

Despite the excruciating pain in his chest, Chan Ka-kui reached out his still-functioning hand and gently patted Ah Mei's back, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"Alright, alright, Uncle Piao is still here, give me some face." Chen Jiaju coaxed Amei while winking at Uncle Piao, who was wiping away tears.

At this moment, at the door of this dilapidated little apartment, the hero returned from hell and found his only safe haven.

……

However, this winter night in 1983 was destined not to end in warmth.

Just as the entire Hong Kong police force was basking in the jubilation and self-satisfaction of the resounding victory of "Digital Operation" and the arrest of Ni Jia and Lin Kun, Lu Qichang was sitting behind his desk in a spacious inspector's office at the Western District Police Station, holding a top-secret briefing that had just been delivered.

The coffee on the table had gone cold, and the incandescent light on the ceiling was buzzing.

Lu Qichang's face did not show the joy of a victor; instead, it showed an almost frozen, extreme shock and grief.

His phone had just received a message from a fellow police officer: Wong Chi-shing was dead.