Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

Such words can only fool those hot-headed, ignorant young men who fantasize about getting ahead overnight.

Zhang Wenjie felt a chill in his heart.

What kind of compensation?

This is clearly a last meal before death, a carrot tied in front of a donkey's eyes—visible, but never to be eaten.

But he still nodded emphatically, forcing a grateful expression on his face, his eyes even slightly reddening: "Thank you so much for your guidance, boss! Ah Jie will definitely not let you down!"

"Good! Good brother!" Smiling Tiger seemed very satisfied, turned to Ah Ming and said, "Take Ah Jie downstairs to get some rest, and also tell him what to do tomorrow..."

Having finished displaying his divine power in front of others, there's naturally no need to maintain that false warmth any longer.

The smiling tiger's final pat on the shoulder carried a hint of urging and impatience.

Zhang Wenjie bowed deeply, then followed the dark-skinned, thin old man, Amin, out of the incense hall.

As he reached the door, he paused slightly and slowly turned his head.

In the dim light, half of his face was in the light and shadow, and the other half was in the shadow.

Those eyes, which had previously feigned honesty and obedience, were now as cold as ice, with a ghostly fire burning deep within their pupils.

His gaze slowly swept over everyone in the incense hall: the smiling tiger whose smile had not yet completely disappeared, Ah Ming standing respectfully with his hands at his sides, the seven henchmen with different expressions, and the Guan Gong statue on the altar with its indistinct face.

That glance was like a knife.

Then, urged on in a low voice by Amin, he turned and disappeared into the deeper darkness outside the door.

As the two left, a person stepped out from the line that had been standing there.

This man was burly and covered in old and new scars, earning him the nickname "Copper Head Seven".

He habitually touched his sparse hair, his face plastered with lewd flattery, and moved closer to the smiling tiger.

"Boss, have a smoke!" Copperhead Seven pulled out a brand new pack of cigarettes, tore open the seal, carefully pulled out a cigarette, handed it to him with both hands, and quickly lit it.

The smiling tiger squinted, took a sip, and glanced at him sideways: "What? You're not usually this filial, you bastard. Did you get into trouble again?"

Tongtouqi is not very bright and acts rashly, often causing trouble for him.

If it weren't for his loyalty and ruthlessness in fights, I would have kicked him out long ago.

Tongtouqi chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his hands together. "Boss, well... it's only a year or two of probation, I... I also want to take a probationary period!"

His tone was clearly tinged with jealousy and resentment.

He had followed Smiling Tiger for so many years, fighting to the death, and had countless scars all over his body, but he still hadn't managed to get a promotion.

That kid named A-Jie, isn't he just going to take the blame?

Why can someone suddenly become a "red pole" (a political figure)?

The smiling tiger's face darkened, his eyes turning dangerous: "Damn it! Do you really want to go to jail? The food in Stanley isn't good!"

He took a step closer, his smoke rings hitting Tongtouqi's face. "Anyway, it's not dawn yet, the candidate... can still be changed. How about I send you? Ten or eight years is just a blink of an eye, what do you say?"

Copperhead Seven trembled at the look in his eyes, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He hurriedly waved his hands and backed away, saying, "No, no, no, boss, I was just joking! Just joking! I'm not qualified... I, I'll go outside and check the place!" With that, he ran out in a panic.

The incense hall returned to silence.

The smiling tiger stared at the doorway, his smile vanishing completely, leaving only exhaustion and malice.

He stubbed out his cigarette and whispered to one of Amin's trusted men, "Keep an eye on that kid, don't let him get away. Tomorrow... send him on his way as planned."

"Yes, Brother Tiger."

"Stay here and don't move. Don't cause trouble for yourself..."

The dark-skinned, thin old man stretched out his right hand, his withered index finger pointing straight at Zhang Wenjie's chest, speaking as he forcefully pointed.

His attitude was utterly rude, with his lips pursed and his cloudy eyes filled with contempt.

This is an old room of about ten square meters, with peeling lime on the walls, revealing yellowed cement underneath.

A spiderweb hung in the corner of the ceiling, and a spider was suspended in mid-air.

The room had only one small window with iron bars, and outside the window were the gray walls of the back alley.

Inside the room, besides a broken sofa with collapsed springs, a wooden table with a missing leg propped up by bricks, there was only a squat toilet separated by a curtain.

The air was filled with a strange smell, a mixture of musty, urine, and cheap cigarette smoke.

"Where am I?" Zhang Wenjie asked, his first question after stepping out of the small dark room.

He casually turned his head to look around the room, his gaze sweeping over the door—an old-fashioned wooden door with a rusty lock—and then over the gaps in the iron bars of the window.

"Why ask so many questions! Who do you think you are! Do you really think you're some kind of high-ranking official?"

The old man chuckled, pulled a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his crumpled shirt, and threw it at Zhang Wenjie's face. "Hey! Memorize what's on this paper. Someone will come to pick you up before dawn!"

The papers scattered in the air and fell to the ground.

The above is a few lines of writing scribbled with a ballpoint pen, roughly stating the time, place, and admitting to assaulting a police officer in a drunken impulse.

The old man didn't care at all what Zhang Wenjie had to say.

He saw Zhang Wenjie lower his head like a startled partridge, not daring to argue, and let out a disdainful "tsk" sound. He slowly took out a cigarette, shook it out, put it in his mouth, and lit it with a cheap plastic lighter.

The old man took a deep breath, turned around and walked towards the door, preparing to leave this dilapidated house filled with the smell of mildew.

Just as I placed my hand on the doorknob, I heard a calm voice behind me: "Hey... what did you just say? Nobody will come before dawn!"

The sound wasn't loud, but it made the old man pause.

He frowned, wanting to turn around and mutter a few curses. This newly appointed red stick, even when he's about to die, still dares to be sarcastic?

As soon as I turned my head...

boom!!

A dull thud came from the worn-out tiled floor.

Zhang Wenjie, who had just been cowering like a partridge, suddenly stomped his right foot!

The old tiles under the shoe dented instantly, and the cracked lines spread outwards like a spider web from the point of impact!

The old man didn't even see the movement clearly; he only felt a strong gust of wind rush towards him!

The thin figure from just now is now like an arrow shot from a fully drawn bow, moving so fast that it leaves a trail of afterimages in the dim light!

A huge, fan-like hand, accompanied by a terrifying whistling sound, came crashing down on my face!

The shadow that appeared instantly blocked the old man's entire vision!

"Snap!"

That large hand precisely grasped the old man's entire face!

The five fingers dug deeply into the flesh like iron hoops!

Immediately afterwards, an irresistible force shoved him backward!

The back of his head slammed hard against the wooden door behind him!

"Bang—crackling..." The thick wooden door was slammed in, creating a shallow dent, and the sound of the wood fibers breaking was clearly audible.

The old man felt dizzy, a sharp pain exploded from the back of his head, stars flashed before his eyes, and a metallic taste filled his nostrils.