Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

He paused at just the right moment, giving Zhang Wenjie enough space to "digest" the "pain" of being betrayed and the "desire" for the huge sum of 500,000 yuan.

Not far away, Robinson was lying on the grass, pretending to sleep, but actually half-closing his eyes, his gaze constantly glancing in the direction of Zhang Wenjie and Sha Biao.

He saw Sha Biao affectionately putting his arm around Zhang Wenjie's shoulder, and the two were "chatting happily." Zhang Wenjie nodded from time to time as Sha Biao spoke, his face showing the flattery and "gratitude" of a junior to a "senior."

Robinson silently assessed himself: "Acting...not bad, a decent old fox. But unfortunately, he's still too young; some parts seem a bit too contrived..."

If he were still the powerful and successful man he once was, he would never have looked down on someone like Zhang Wenjie, a nobody from the bottom of society who made a living by fighting and killing.

But things are different now. He's in jail now. This guy named Zhang Wenjie has extraordinary fighting skills, which are a valuable asset in prison.

Under these circumstances, Zhang Wenjie's current display of "showing off his cleverness" and "being easily provoked" seems somewhat superfluous and even a little naive to Robinson.

True intelligence lies in concealing one's shortcomings and keeping others guessing.

"Uncle, who's that guy chatting so enthusiastically with Stupid? He looks unfamiliar, but seems to know Stupid pretty well?" A slightly slick voice sounded from the side.

Robinson turned his head and saw a young face with a fawning smile approaching him; it was the new guy named Qian Wendi.

From the moment the kid started exercising, he'd been hovering around me, like a buzzing fly.

Robinson knew in his heart that this person was most likely approaching him with some kind of purpose.

He pretended his throat was itchy, coughed violently a few times, turned his head away, and didn't reply.

"Throat sore? Here, have a smoke to clear your throat!"

Qian Wendi reacted very quickly, immediately taking out a pack of cigarettes that looked good from his inner jacket pocket (it's unclear how he brought it in), taking one out, and eagerly offering it to Robinson.

For professional conman Qian Wendi, cultivating relationships and getting close to people is practically an instinct ingrained in his bones.

"Hey...you're pretty savvy, kid!" Robinson's eyes lit up. He propped himself up with one hand, finally turning his gaze away from Zhang Wenjie and onto the cigarette.

He swallowed involuntarily, a longing expression on his face, and eagerly took it.

Qian Wendi struck a match with a "snap" and carefully cupped the flame with his hand before handing it over.

Robinson took a deep drag, filling his lungs with smoke, and slowly exhaled after a long while, a look of utter ecstasy on his face: "Wow! Perfect! It's roasted tobacco! You can't get this good stuff in Stanley!"

He took two more greedy breaths, and his whole body seemed to relax. He simply lay half-reclined on the grass, squinting his eyes to enjoy the sensation.

"I'm glad you like it, Uncle," Qian Wendi said with a smile, and sat down next to him.

As the saying goes, "He who takes a man's gift is bound to do so." Having received a good cigarette from someone, Robinson Crusoe wouldn't mind sharing some common knowledge as a form of repayment.

He pointed vaguely in Zhang Wenjie's direction with the finger holding the cigarette: "Look, that young man who looks like a pretty boy, that's Zhang Wenjie, the most prominent figure in Stanley recently, the newest red pole of Tung Sing. The one with his arm around his shoulder is one of the local tyrants in Stanley, Tung Sing's 'Silly Bill,' a high-ranking and influential figure."

He gestured towards the basketball court with his lip: "See that guy sitting on that bench over there, his right leg slung over his shoulder like a dead dog? That's Big Mimi, the former leader of Hung Hing in Stanley. But that's all in the past. His leg was broken by that 'pretty boy' Cheung Man-kit. Now? Hmph, a cripple."

After saying that, Robinson stubbed out the cigarette that was still half-smoked up, looked at the cigarette butt with a hint of reluctance, and then patted Wendy Qian on the shoulder, his tone carrying a hint of advice from someone who had been through it all.

"It's normal for a newcomer to want to find a backer or a reliable source of support. But let me give you a piece of advice: keep your eyes open. Stanley is a very dangerous place. Don't blindly follow anyone. If you follow the wrong boss or the wrong master... at best you'll lose a hand or a leg, at worst... well, there are several people every year who die mysteriously from illness, fall to their death, or commit suicide."

That final "heh heh" was full of meaning, carrying the chilling atmosphere unique to prisons.

Qian Wendi's face showed a suitable expression of "learned" and "fearful," and he quickly offered her another cigarette: "Thank you for the reminder, Uncle! My name is Qian Wendi, you can just call me Wendi. I hope you'll take good care of me in Stanley in the future!"

He adopted a very humble posture, completely like a newcomer trying to curry favor with a seasoned veteran.

Robinson accepted the cigarette without hesitation, lit it using the lighter Qian Wendi offered him again, and took a satisfying drag: "Wendi? What a nice name, what a nice name!"

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Zhang Wenjie not far away, who seemed to be glancing in his direction unintentionally.

As Robinson lowered his head to light a cigarette, he nodded very slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if in response to something.

Then, he looked again at Qian Wendi, who had a blank expression and a thirst for knowledge. He took a drag of his cigarette, slowly exhaled, and the smoke blurred the expression on his aged face. All that could be heard was his calm reminder: "Be careful..."

"Beep—! Beep—!"

A piercing whistle suddenly rang out throughout the exercise yard, shattering the undercurrents of conversation and scheming.

"Exercise time is over! Everyone, line up immediately! Prepare to return to the barracks!"

Armed prison guards, armed with black batons, poured out from the surrounding passageways, scattered in key positions, their eyes sharp as eagles, keeping a close watch on every prisoner in the room to prevent anyone from causing trouble at the last moment.

The crowd began to move slowly and orderly, gathering into loose queues according to their respective warehouse numbers.

Right at this transitional and somewhat chaotic juncture.

On the bench beside the basketball court, Da Mi was sprawled out in the sun like a dead dog when a muscular, dark-skinned, and fierce-looking man suddenly appeared beside her.

This man, nicknamed "Crocodile Guy," was a notorious thug in Stanley. He had committed serious crimes and received long sentences, and he acted with considerable ruthlessness.

Crocodile Man spat out a thick, yellow phlegm at a prisoner who was slowly walking by, hitting the man squarely on the calf.

The prisoner dared not speak out in anger, and walked away quickly with his head down.

The crocodile man then bent down, approached Big Meow, and said in a very low voice with a hint of arrogance, "Big Meow, my boss has spoken. If you get that thing done, I'll give you fifty."