Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

After watching the car drive away, Zhang Wenjie turned around and walked at a leisurely pace toward the brightly lit and bustling Wanchai Ferry Terminal area not far away.

At night, the Wan Chai pier is like a giant beast awakening, exuding a noisy and vibrant energy.

The whistles of ferries coming and going echoed throughout the area, mixed with the muffled flight information broadcast over the loudspeakers.

Passengers, carrying large bags and small suitcases, hurried along, their faces showing either eagerness to return home or bewilderment about their long journeys.

The air was filled with the salty dampness of the sea breeze, the slight pungent smell of fuel, and... a complex aroma of various foods that made one's mouth water.

The roadsides opposite the pier have long been occupied by various food vendors, forming a bustling night market.

The simple light bulb cast a long beam of light, illuminating the steaming stove and the dazzling array of food.

Curry fish balls, shark fin soup, egg waffles, pan-fried stuffed three treasures, beef offal, fried large intestine...

Vendors loudly hawk their wares in accented Cantonese, while diners stand or sit, enjoying their meals in disposable lunchboxes, creating a vibrant and bustling scene of Hong Kong's underclass nightlife.

Zhang Wenjie, like a tourist visiting for the first time, walked slowly with the flow of people, filled with a sense of curiosity.

My gaze swept over the familiar stalls, finally settling on a stall with a sign that read "Zhuang Ji Dumplings".

The stall owner was a middle-aged woman with quick hands and a cheerful smile. She was rapidly wrapping dumplings. The broth in the pot was boiling, and the plump white dumplings were bobbing up and down, emitting a fragrant aroma.

He walked over and ordered a bowl of their signature shrimp wonton dumplings.

Sitting on a small plastic stool set up next to the stall, with a simple folding table, take a bite and you'll find the wonton skin thin and the filling tender, the shrimp meat bouncy, and the soup fresh and mellow.

The taste was indeed exceptionally delicious, with a homely, unpretentious sincerity.

No wonder this signboard will make a name for itself in the future and become one of the landmark delicacies at Wanchai Ferry Pier.

Zhang Wenjie thought to himself, and in a few bites he finished a bowl of dumplings, soup and all, and felt a long-lost, comforting, and warm feeling of fullness in his stomach.

After being locked up for months, my mouth was so bland I could barely taste anything.

This simple meal of dumplings seemed to open the floodgates of my taste buds.

He touched the pocket of his change of clothes and pulled out a pack of cigarettes that Ma Zhixiong had prepared. They weren't the cheap stuff from the prison, but a decent brand from the market.

He pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, lit it with the residual heat of the stove on the stall, took a deep drag, let the pungent smoke swirl in his lungs, and then slowly exhaled, as if expelling the stale air accumulated in the prison along with it.

Following the flow of people, he left the core area of ​​the dock and headed towards a relatively quiet area of ​​mobile vendors.

The shops here mainly sell cheap clothes, small handicrafts, pirated cassette tapes, and other miscellaneous items, and the lighting is dimmer.

As you walk further, you gradually leave the area affected by the dock and enter a narrow, old street full of the marks of time.

The streets are lined with low, old tenement buildings. Most of the shops on the ground floor are closed, with only a few shops selling groceries, hardware, or old appliances still lit up. The shop owners are either watching small televisions or dozing off, looking bored.

Contrary to expectations, there was no dazzling, bustling scene of neon lights; instead, there was a sense of quiet desolation, as if the world had temporarily forgotten it.

Zhang Wenjie didn't care; he just strolled along, enjoying the long-lost freedom and the slightly cool night air.

He tossed the cigarette in his hand into a roadside trash can after it burned out.

After walking for about ten more minutes, we passed through an inconspicuous alleyway, and the view suddenly opened up before us!

The originally dimly lit street seemed to have been enchanted, instantly becoming flooded with colorful, flashing neon signs!

"Fresh and fresh seafood," "caught and cooked on the spot," "affordable and delicious," "king of the deep sea"... all sorts of exaggerated words flowed through the light tubes.

The salty, fishy smell in the air became even stronger, mixed with the domineering aroma of various seafood dishes, such as stir-fried with ginger and scallions, deep-fried with salt and pepper, and steamed with minced garlic, directly and rudely stimulating the olfactory nerves of passersby!

This is the real, hidden gem of a seafood street deep within an unassuming old neighborhood!

Rows of brightly lit seafood restaurants stood side by side, their entrances filled with huge, transparent aquariums. Oxygen pumps gurgled and bubbled, housing all sorts of lobsters, crabs, and other fish whose scales shimmered enticingly under the lights.

The diners' chatter, the waiters' shouts, the clanging of spatulas against iron pots, the clinking of beer bottles... all intertwined to create a vibrant, bustling soundscape, full of the lively atmosphere and vitality of the marketplace.

Zhang Wenjie glanced around and chose a shop that wasn't too crowded and looked fairly clean.

The shop is small, with tables and chairs placed on the sidewalk, and a huge awning overhead that also serves as a rain shelter.

He found a less conspicuous spot to sit down.

A young waiter wearing an apron, looking tired but still diligent, jogged over with the menu.

"Just bring me a few of your restaurant's signature seafood dishes, make sure they're fresh and cooked in an authentic style."

Zhang Wenjie didn't look at the menu and gave the order directly, his voice sounding a bit rough because of Da Mi's voice.

"Another half dozen chilled beers, please."

"Okay, boss! Coming right away!" The waiter noted it down and quickly ran to the kitchen.

The kitchen is semi-open, just a simple shed set up next to the store entrance.

Suddenly, a burst of flame appeared!

The crimson flames almost licked the roof of the shed. The chef skillfully tossed the large iron pot, and the seafood and ingredients inside rolled and collided in the raging fire, making a "sizzling" sound.

The rich aroma of the wok, a blend of ginger, scallions, garlic, chili, and fermented black beans, acted like an invisible hook, fiercely tugging at Zhang Wenjie's appetite and causing his mouth to involuntarily produce saliva.

Soon, a bottle of chilled beer was served. Fine water droplets condensed on the bottle.

Zhang Wenjie flicked the metal bottle cap open with his thumb, making a soft "ding" sound.

He picked up the bottle, tilted his head back, and took several large gulps of the icy liquor, which carried a slight bitterness and the tingling sensation of bubbles. The liquor washed over his throat and into his stomach, bringing a refreshing coolness.

"Hiccup..." He put down the half-empty bottle, let out a long, slow hiccup, and a satisfied look appeared on his face.

This is life, even if it's just for a moment, or life under a facade.

Soon, the first dish arrived—the signature "Typhoon Shelter Crab," made with plump, meaty crabs. After being dissected, the crabs were stir-fried with golden-brown, crispy garlic, breadcrumbs, fermented black beans, chili peppers, and other ingredients. The aroma was irresistible, and the color was enticing.

Zhang Wenjie originally wanted to maintain some semblance of decorum, so he picked up his chopsticks.

But looking at the glistening, garlicky crab pieces, he paused, then simply put down his chopsticks and reached out with his left hand—deliberately avoiding using his right hand to avoid leaving any trace of his habits—to pick up the largest piece of crab with its claws attached from the scalding hot plate.