Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

At 8:30 a.m., the noise at Shun Kee Teahouse reached its peak.

The ceiling fan creaked and groaned overhead, but it couldn't dispel the stale air mingled with the steam from the steamer and the fumes from the cigarettes.

Zhang Wenjie sat with his legs crossed, having already devoured all the shrimp dumplings and siu mai in front of him, leaving only a few chicken feet bones scattered in the steamer.

He slowly flipped through the newspaper, from the society section to the entertainment section, and then back from the entertainment section to the society section.

The thought of paying the bill crossed my mind, but I ultimately decided against it. It wasn't that I wanted to freeload, but the persona "Big Brother Mimi" required a certain demeanor befitting a江湖人 (jianghu person, someone from the underworld).

Free food and drink, and rampant tyranny—that's what gangsters should be like.

Moreover, after the conflict, Uncle Shun, the teahouse owner, had been hiding behind the counter, afraid to utter a sound, lest this fierce man set his sights on his small business.

The gossip at the next table had shifted from family feuds to江湖新闻 (jianghu news, a term referring to the underworld or江湖义气, a code of honor among gangsters).

In Hong Kong, the secrets of the wealthy are merely fodder for casual conversation, while the affairs of triads are the eternal theme in teahouses.

Which newcomer from which gang has risen to the top, which boss has been seriously injured in the street, which gang is fighting with which gang over territory—these are the everyday things that tea drinkers enjoy talking about.

Zhang Wenjie listened intently, a playful smile playing on his lips. These rumors were three parts truth and seven parts falsehood; as they were passed down, they became distorted, which was quite amusing.

"Do you know?"

The one who spoke was the thinner of the two blond thugs from earlier, nicknamed "Frog." He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, one hand resting on the back of his chair, striking a pose of a seasoned veteran.

"Know my ass!" "Chicken Head Ming" across from him slammed his fist on the table impatiently. "Frog, can you at least get to the point when you're bragging? You always do this, leaving only half the story out!"

"Don't interrupt me!" Frog exhaled a smoke ring, lowering his voice but deliberately making sure the surrounding tables could hear. "This is explosive news! You all know who's been making headlines in Hung Hing lately, right?"

"Big B's henchman, Chan Ho-nam, who doesn't know him?" Chicken Head Ming scoffed. "Handsome, good at fighting, he's got all the girls in Causeway Bay! And then what? Which boss's woman did he hook up with and get chased down?"

"If only that were true!" Frog leaned forward mysteriously. "Weren't we talking about Liu Yaozu's case? I heard that Liu Yaozu sent an assassin into Stanley to kill his father-in-law, Robinson! Guess who the assassin is?"

Several tea drinkers at the next table perked up their ears.

Frog was quite satisfied with the effect and cleared his throat: "It's that con man who escaped from prison, Qian Wendi! He's not a con man at all, he's a disguised assassin! After succeeding, he even teamed up with a big shot in Stanley called 'Big Mimi' to escape from prison!"

Zhang Wenjie almost burst out laughing when he heard this.

What is all this about?

The rumors are getting more and more outrageous. When did Qian Wendi become a killer?

However, the name "Dami" did pique his interest.

He put down the newspaper, turned around, and revealed a friendly smile befitting a seasoned veteran—although his fleshy face still looked menacing no matter how he smiled.

"Young man, you're clearly a talented fellow in the martial arts world." Zhang Wenjie's voice was rough yet deliberately refined. "This 'Big Mimi' you mentioned, what's her background? What untold story does she have?"

This behavior surprised Tianji.

The man in front of him had a fierce appearance, but spoke in a refined and polite manner, with a hint of flattery, which pleased him greatly.

He puffed out his thin chest and raised his voice a second louder: "This uncle really knows his stuff! That big-breasted girl is no ordinary type! The Hung Hing brothers received a lot of help from him when they entered Stanley, otherwise they would have been bullied to death by those Wo Luen Shing and Tung Sing gangs long ago!"

The teahouse was much quieter now, and even the waiters serving breakfast were walking quietly.

"I heard he used to be a 'Double Flower Red Stick' in Hung Hing!" Fung Kee got more and more excited as he spoke. "Back then, he went to prison to take the blame for the leader, Chiang Chen. Who knew he'd be there for ten years!"

Chicken Head Ming, intrigued, chimed in, "I heard from the guys at Wan Chai Pier that after Big Mimi escaped from prison, he had a late-night snack there! He even got into a fight with Big B! Chan Ho-nam fought him and was taken down in no time! Even Big B didn't dare utter a sound in front of him!"

The frog nodded repeatedly, sighing, "Ah, if only my boss were that powerful..."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Chicken Head Ming slapped him on the back of the head: "What are you bragging about! Aren't I your boss?"

A snicker came from the next table.

"Tch, what 'Double Flower Red Stick'? They act all high and mighty." The speaker was a group of seven or eight thugs sitting at a table against the wall. Their leader was a bald man with a blue dragon tattooed on his neck. "If he runs into our Prince, heh heh..."

That "heh heh" was full of disdain.

Zhang Wenjie hates it when people interrupt him to listen to gossip.

Without turning his head, he grabbed a chicken claw bone from the table and flicked his wrist—

"call out!"

The chicken claw bone struck the bald man's head precisely, making a crisp "smack" sound.

"Shut up." Zhang Wenjie's voice wasn't loud, but it instantly silenced the entire teahouse.

The bald man froze for two seconds, rubbing the spot on his head where he'd been hit, then abruptly stood up: "You old bastard! Where do you think you're from? How dare you embarrass me?"

His seven or eight underlings at the table also stood up in unison, grabbing whatever they could find—folding stools, beer bottles, ashtrays—and everything else they could get their hands on.

Seeing that things were not going well, the diners in the teahouse shrank into the corners, and some of the more timid ones were already moving towards the door by hugging the wall.

Zhang Wenjie ignored him, tapped the table, and said to Tianji, "Hey, keep talking."

"You bastard! How dare you look down on our Prince!" Baldy—nicknamed "Copper Head Seven"—grabbed a folding stool and charged forward first.

His henchmen swarmed forward, instantly filling the small teahouse aisle to overflowing.

Tianji and Jitouming turned pale and hurriedly got up and backed away, almost knocking over the steamer behind them.

They never expected their boasting would escalate to such a huge extent.

Feeling the overwhelming malice, Zhang Wenjie's smile deepened.

Even a mosquito's leg is still meat; he accepted it out of a sense of morality.

"These young people nowadays are getting more and more unruly." Zhang Wenjie slowly stood up, his 1.8-meter height making him stand out in the crowded teahouse.

He twisted his neck, making a "crackling" sound, and the grin on his fleshy face became even more ferocious.

"You have no sense of hierarchy, no respect for elders—even Gan Zitai wouldn't dare to utter a word in front of me, and you bunch of trash dare to do that?"

"How dare you address the Crown Prince by his name?!" Copperhead Seven roared, raising the folding stool high in his hand and bringing it down on Zhang Wenjie's head!

That blow was incredibly powerful; if it had landed squarely, a head injury would have been the least of his worries.

Zhang Wenjie didn't even lift his eyelids.

Just as the folding stool was about to fall, his right hand shot out like lightning, his five fingers gripping the stool surface like iron clamps. With a twist and a pull, Copperhead Seven felt a tremendous force, and the folding stool slipped from his grasp!

Before he could react, Zhang Wenjie had already grabbed the stool leg with his other hand, flicked his wrist, and sent the folding stool flying through the air in an arc, changing from a chop to a slap!

"Bang!"

The stool slammed solidly into Tongtouqi's face!

The sound of the nasal bone cracking was clearly audible, and blood gushed out of the nostrils and mouth instantly!

But it's not over yet.

Zhang Wenjie took a half step forward, and the folding stool in his hand became a blur, making seven consecutive "snap snap snap snap" sounds!

Every step, every strike, landed precisely on a gangster's face, chest, and shoulder!