Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

Under the halo of the solitary lamp on the workbench, Zhang Wenjie was carefully inspecting the "goods" he had just received.

Two sets of miniature monitoring equipment, each only the size of a matchbox, with a common black plastic casing that is inconspicuous.

But once disassembled, it contains sophisticated circuit boards, miniature lenses, and magnetic tape drive mechanisms.

He picked up one of the miniature lenses, examined its clarity in the dim light, and then tested the switch and indicator light with professional and swift movements.

Next up was the "Black Star" pistol.

The gun body shows obvious signs of use, the blueing is worn, and there are several fine cracks in the wooden handguard, giving it an old and menacing look.

He skillfully removed the magazine—empty—pulled the slide to inspect the chamber, his fingers brushing over the internal mechanisms, feeling the tension of the springs and the fit of the parts.

The entire set of movements was fluid, fast and steady, with a cool sense of rhythm.

Tan Jianwen, sitting opposite him, was a little stunned, his eyes behind his glasses widening slightly.

He muttered to himself: This bastard... he's been hiding his true colors! This gun-detecting technique could only be mastered by someone who's spent years in truly dangerous situations.

He became increasingly convinced that the "Brother Jie" in front of him was no longer just the somewhat ruthless street kid he used to be.

"Where are the bullets?" Zhang Wenjie put down his gun, looked up at Tan Jianwen, and asked calmly.

"Go outside, and on the third flower bed on the left, at the very back against the wall, there's a flattened McDonald's paper bag."

Tan Jianwen pushed up his glasses, his tone returning to that of a businessman with a calm demeanor.

Providing guns and bullets separately is an unwritten but tacit rule in this industry. It's not about morality, it's just for safety.

"See you next time, Brother Wen."

Zhang Wenjie put the equipment and the carefully wrapped pistol into an inconspicuous black nylon bag, got up and walked towards the closed roller shutter door.

The moment his hand touched the cold iron gate, he suddenly stopped, turned halfway to the side, and glanced back at Tan Jianwen.

Under the dim light, his eyes were deep and unreadable.

"Brother Wen," his voice was low but clear, "don't forget the code of the martial world. I know where you live."

Tan Jianwen's facial muscles twitched almost imperceptibly, then he forced a smile: "Brother Jie is joking. I, Tan Jianwen, am very disciplined and trustworthy. Don't worry!"

The smile on Tan Jianwen's face slowly disappeared only after Zhang Wenjie gently pulled down and locked the roller shutter from the outside.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

The code of honor among江湖义义?

How much is this thing worth?

He knew it perfectly well.

In this industry, whoever pays you is the boss.

As for Zhang Wenjie's last remark, which sounded like a reminder but also a threat...

For him, as long as there is no conflict of interest, why would he want to offend a skilled, ruthless, and desperate bandit?

That's just plain stupid!

Besides, the transaction just now went quite smoothly.

Such a ruthless character who has crawled out of dire straits, if he can survive this ordeal, may very well become a prominent figure in the future.

Getting to know more people is never a bad thing.

Outside the shops, the dew was heavy on Apliu Street.

Zhang Wenjie, carrying a convenience bag he'd casually bought at the 7-Eleven next door, containing two cans of beer, looked like a weary office worker after finishing overtime, and slowly walked toward the location Tan Jianwen had indicated.

In the third flower bed, the plants drooped listlessly under the dim streetlights.

He crouched down, pretending to tie his shoelaces, and with his left hand concealed by his body and the convenience bag, he silently reached into the damp soil and fallen leaves deep in the flower bed.

My fingertips soon touched the texture of a crumpled piece of paper.

It's that McDonald's takeout bag.

With two deft fingers, he opened the bag and felt inside two magazines wrapped in oil paper.

With a flick of his wrist, two magazines slid into the inner pocket of his robe, the movement swift and discreet, taking only two or three seconds.

He quietly stuffed the bag containing empty bullet casings and shredded paper back into its original place and covered it with fallen leaves.

All in one go.

He stood up, stretched, and his bones made a slight "clicking" sound.

With a convenience bag in his left hand and a can of beer already opened in his right, he tilted his head back and took a big gulp.

The cool liquid slid down my throat, easing some of my fatigue.

He stood there by the roadside, enjoying the slightly salty night breeze, smoking, and gazing at the dazzling and mesmerizing neon lights of Hong Kong, like an ordinary urban night owl, lost and uncertain about the future.

Who would have thought that this seemingly down-on-his-luck young man was carrying a deadly weapon and plotting a tumultuous plan?

Inside the "Wenji Electrical Appliances" store, Tan Jianwen did not immediately go to rest.

He sat at his worktable, a cigarette dangling from his lips, staring at a small black-and-white monitor in front of him.

The screen was divided into several images, one of which was facing the flower bed from before. Although the light was dim, the outline of a person could still be barely seen.

His capable assistant, a skinny young man nicknamed "Wasabi," was standing to the side, pointing to a brief, frozen image on the screen.

That was a fleeting, seemingly unintentional glance Zhang Wenjie made as he crouched down towards the hidden camera.

"Brother Wen, this guy surnamed Zhang... his vigilance is unusually high. And..."

Wasabi swallowed hard and lowered her voice.

"It seems like he noticed our 'eyes' hidden in the shadows the moment he sat down after entering the room. His action by the flower bed just now... it seemed like he did it on purpose to show us."

Tan Jianwen silently smoked his cigarette, his expression obscured by the swirling smoke.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse from staying up all night: "Just pretend nothing happened. Tell those 'newspaper sellers' outside (referring to the informants roaming around Apliu Street) to keep their mouths shut. In business, I, Tam Kin-man, put my reputation first. There's no need for me to, and I can't afford to, provoke such a powerful outsider."

"Understood, boss!" Wasabi nodded emphatically, immediately pressed the miniature communicator hidden in his ear, and whispered instructions to the "rats" scattered throughout Apliu Street.

Zhang Wenjie stopped in front of a roadside stall and bought two skewers of steaming hot fish balls coated in thick yellow curry sauce with his change.

He leaned against the rusty roadside railing, eating slowly and deliberately in the salty night breeze.

The night view of Hong Kong unfolded before his eyes, with neon lights spreading and flashing between buildings like veins. Beneath the prosperity lay endless desires and undercurrents.

Just as he popped the last fish ball into his mouth and casually tossed the bamboo skewer into the nearby trash can, a slightly old but well-maintained white Toyota van silently pulled up beside him.

The driver's side window rolled down, revealing a round, chubby face wearing round-framed glasses.

"Brother Jie!" The voice carried a deliberate familiarity and a hint of barely perceptible flattery.