Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

He hung up the phone, put his sunglasses back on, hummed an unknown tune, and strolled out of the alley.

The sunlight was just right, shining on him, but it couldn't penetrate his unfathomable eyes.

The incident in the teahouse was merely a trivial step in this grand scheme.

But the game has only just begun.

"Grandpa!"

Tianji bowed ninety degrees to Zhang Wenjie, his loud voice attracting the attention of the other diners in the teahouse.

This hothead was completely unaware of what his shout meant; he only felt that the fierce-looking uncle in front of him was powerful and intimidating enough to warrant him calling him "Grandpa."

Zhang Wenjie, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, squinted at the frog.

In the unwritten rules of the underworld, "Grandpa" isn't a title given lightly—only the boss's boss deserves it.

Layer upon layer of exploitation, like a pyramid pressing down on the spines of the gangsters at the bottom.

He originally just wanted to recruit two errand boys to make things easier later on, but unexpectedly, someone offered him a pillow when he was about to fall asleep. It seems there's something even more interesting hidden behind these two lowly scoundrels.

"Our boss, Jordan, always brags to us," Tin Kai straightened up, his face full of admiration, "Back in the day, Grandpa's iron fists swept through Yau Tsim Mong, he was incredibly loyal and righteous, always ready to risk his life for his brothers! He even took the blame for all the crimes committed by Hung Hing's leader, Chiang Chen, and went to prison with honor..."

Zhang Wenjie raised an eyebrow: "???"

Honorary imprisonment?

What utter nonsense!

Gangsters who can't even use four-character idioms properly, how can they possibly earn honors while serving time in prison?

The big joke of slipping the world.

But the words may be rough, but the principle is sound.

From Tianji's rambling and incoherent praise, Zhang Wenjie gleaned a crucial piece of information—

Someone is making a living in the underworld using his nickname "Big Mimi".

Not only did he get by, he made a name for himself and became known as "Horse King".

He grinned, his two rows of neat teeth holding a half-smoked cigarette, ash falling softly.

While waiting for the food, Zhang Wenjie took the cigarette handed to him by Ji Touming and lit it with his own light.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at a corner of the teahouse—where a man wearing a baseball cap sat, looking down at his newspaper since the conflict began, but the newspaper hadn't been turned for a full ten minutes.

interesting.

Five minutes later, Zhang Wenjie walked out of the teahouse carrying the packaged stir-fried beef noodles.

The kraft paper bag was still hot to the touch, and the aroma of the sauce wafted out through the gaps in the bag.

"Take me to see your boss," he said, exhaling a puff of smoke as he spoke to the thug who was following closely behind him.

Chicken Head Ming hurriedly nodded and bowed as he led the way.

The frog followed Zhang Wenjie around like a shadow, its face full of excitement.

The teahouse is actually not far from Jordan Road, otherwise these two lowlifes wouldn't have come here so early in the morning to chat.

Their leader was nicknamed "Jordan," and was known in the underworld as "Horse King." Naturally, they were the lowest-ranking "pimps," making a living by acting as pimps for Horse King and collecting debts.

"Grandpa, the eldest brother will be very happy to know you've appeared!" Frog was a bit dim-witted; he just thought that with "Grandpa" as his big tree, he could walk sideways from now on.

Chicken Head Ming thought about it more.

He stole a glance at Zhang Wenjie's profile and asked cautiously, "Um... Grandpa, you didn't encounter any trouble on your way out of Stanley, did you?"

Escape from prison is not child's play. If you're on the police's wanted list and caught, you'll face more severe punishment than punishment; you might even face serious reprimands.

Normally, escaped prisoners either flee far away and live under an assumed name, or they undergo plastic surgery to change their appearance and start a new life.

Who does this guy do, swaggering around having breakfast in a teahouse and then assaulting someone in public?

"It's pointless for a kid to know too much." Zhang Wenjie said without turning his head.

Does he care?

Who cares.

This "Big Mimi" alias was originally a tool used to provoke hatred and gain moral points.

The concept of morality has already given him a lot of incredible abilities at this stage, but who would complain about having too many trump cards?

Moreover, the gray "Upgrade" button at the bottom of the system interface was like the apple in the Garden of Eden, constantly tempting him.

So what if one account gets ruined?

Let's try another one.

"Grandpa, we're here!" Chicken Head Ming stopped in front of an old tenement building, pointing to a window on the second floor. "The boss's office is upstairs!"

The exterior walls of the tenement building were mottled, with large patches of plaster peeling off to reveal the blackened red bricks underneath. The stairwells were narrow and dark, with walls plastered with small GGs advertising "Drain Cleaning," "Document Processing," and "Private Investigator." The air was thick with the smells of mildew and urine.

At the end of the second-floor corridor, there are four faded red characters pasted on an iron door: "Yuefa Finance".

There was a plastic stool by the door, and a long-haired, slovenly man was sitting on it, intently picking at his toes.

Hearing footsteps, the long-haired man looked up and saw Chicken Head Ming leading his men up. He lazily stood up, scratching his armpit: "Hey, Chicken Head Ming, why didn't you bring any girls to the office? And an old man too? Come downstairs and wait to see the goods!"

He reached out and blocked his way, his palm emitting a mixed odor—sweat, foot odor, and the smell of cheap cigarettes.

"Damn it! Get out of here!" Chicken Head Ming puffed out his thin chest. "This is Grandpa! Jordan's boss!"

"Grandpa?" The long-haired man called Shrimp Hair sneered, and poked Chicken Head Ming's chest with the middle finger that had just been picking at his toes.

"I'm your great-grandfather! The younger brother is stupid, and the older brother is stupid too. Now we've been tricked into coming here by an old man? Chicken Head Ming, have you lost your mind?"

"Fuck you!" Tianji, like a firecracker that had been lit, grabbed Xia Mao's long hair and slammed his right fist into Xia Mao's face!

Shrimp Hair staggered from the blow, blood gushing from his nose. He froze for two seconds, then roared in fury, "You dare lay a hand on me? You damned frog!"

The two immediately started fighting, their bodies slamming against the walls in the narrow corridor with loud bangs.

Zhang Wenjie ignored the farce.

His gaze passed over the two wrestling men and looked toward the office door—where half a head was peeking out; it was a man with a buzz cut and a beard, frowning as he peered out.

"Stop! You two good-for-nothings!" The crew-cut, bearded man—Jordan—finally stepped out and slapped Tianji and Xiamao once in each hand.

He wore a gold chain around his neck, about the thickness of a little finger, which reflected a cheap gold light in the dimly lit corridor.

The collar of his white shirt was open, revealing a patch of dark chest hair.

Jordan shook his neck, the gold chain clinking. He sized Zhang Wenjie up, a calculating glint in his eyes: "Brought by Chicken Head Ming, he should have some credibility. How much do you want to borrow?"

Being a "horse king" is never as comfortable as sitting in your office waiting for suckers to come and borrow money.

After figuring out the tricks of loan sharking, Jordan opened this shell company.

Just when I was worried about how to expand my business, a "sucker" came to my door - although he was an old man, every little bit helps.