Chapter 14: Three years have passed...

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After visiting Ah Chung, the three men from Mad Dragon’s crew went with Cheung Kam-wing to the hotel to collect the money. Each carried a backpack before leaving the room.

Cheung Kam-wing held a cigarette between his fingers. Watching the riffraff disperse, he took a drag and said, “Boss, when are we bringing Yun, Chi Wai, and On Chuen back?”

“It’s not that I look down on those pond boys. It’s just that old hands know how to play rougher.”

“And they’ve got more nerve!”

Lam Tin-shing sat on the edge of the bed, drinking tea without comment. “If we call them back, we’ll need positions for them. There’s no reason to transfer three people into the Major Crimes Unit all at once.”

“Besides, Yun and On Chuen are easy enough to deal with. If I remember correctly, one is working traffic in Tsuen Wan, and the other manages vehicles for the Mobile Unit at headquarters, acting as a parking attendant. But Chi Wai…”

“There are already two stars on his shoulder.”

Of the former Four Heavenly Kings of Eating, Drinking, Women, and Gambling, only Chen Chi Wai—the King of Women, nicknamed the Top Scholar—had taken a different path. After the police reforms, he had entered the London Police College through the Special Talent Scheme.

Upon graduation, he was appointed a probationary inspector. Two years later, he was promoted to senior inspector and assigned to the Criminal Intelligence Bureau. He had left the other four far behind and become the rising star of the force.

After three years in the pond, the men they had once been able to summon at will might no longer consider them brothers.

Cheung Kam-wing looked dejected, his eyes distant. “Chi Wai… His English was already good back then. He was naturally clever, and he even knew how to avoid trouble through examinations.”

“Tell me, why didn’t I think of applying to London back then?”

Lam Tin-shing rolled his eyes. “Because you knew you were an idiot and wouldn’t get in.”

Cheung Kam-wing lifted the liquor pot and tipped it, only to find two drops. The bottle was empty. He gave an awkward laugh. “Fine, forget Chi Wai, then. Yun and On Chuen aren’t exactly better off than me.”

“Even if we can’t transfer them to our side for now, we should at least get in touch. Otherwise, they’ll think we’ve abandoned them.”

Lam Tin-shing gave a slight nod. “Call them. In a few days, arrange somewhere for us to have a meal.”

“We should see them.”

Cheung Kam-wing nodded. “No problem. I’ll arrange it. Since we’re reminiscing, shall we use the old place?”

“Fine.”

Lam Tin-shing searched his memory and managed to recall where the old place was.

Cheung Kam-wing understood his concerns. But without the Four Great Sergeants, could the Five Poisons Detective still be called the Five Poisons Detective?

They had to gather their brothers and rebuild their momentum. Only then would the old remnants look upon them with greater respect—and be willing to place their bets.

After bidding farewell to Cheung Kam-wing, Lam Tin-shing left the Regent Hotel with a heavy heart and the money in hand. He did not deposit it in an underground bank. Instead, using the false passport left behind by Ko Chun-hung, he opened an account at the Far East Exchange and, with his eyes closed, bought three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of Cheung Kong Holdings stock, code 0001.

He then took a taxi home and, that afternoon, requested leave under the pretext of visiting an injured colleague.

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Taking half a day off to rest after a small unit had just completed an operation was standard practice at the police station. After all, the foreign devils had not paid them any extra allowance for working overtime the night before.

Lying on the bed, he held a pen and paper, writing and sketching. To an outsider, it looked like the scrawlings of a madman. In truth, he was organizing the money-making ideas stored in his memories.

A windfall could ease an immediate thirst, but it could not relieve a great famine. Even if the coming years would bring an economic boom, with the property and stock markets climbing together into a golden age, three hundred thousand dollars in starting capital would only be enough to scrape his way into a modestly comfortable life.

If he wanted a source of income capable of supporting and building up his forces, he would have to plan slowly and carefully.

And it had to be a legitimate business. Using his authority to make money on the side would merely mean repeating Brother Lok’s mistake.

He had to learn from the foreigners and play the revolving door between business and politics.

But property, movies, foreign trade, and finance were all too large for him to handle. Should he find a parking attendant and collect parking fees? That was extra income for traffic officers.

Should he ask hotels for inspection fees?

Damn it—that was extra income for the fire department.

Apart from shaking down robbers, the Major Crimes Unit had only one other option: blackmailing them for ransom.

Doing it once or twice might be acceptable. Do it too often, and he might as well take off his uniform and become a robber himself.

Selling pirated novels? Printing a filthy weekly magazine? Or perhaps…

Collecting protection money from gold shops?

Lam Tin-shing had spent both his lives playing with guns. He had never done business before. He possessed broad horizons, but no idea how to begin. The more he thought, the more tangled his mind became. It was like longing for the fish while standing beside the abyss, or gazing at the moon through a window.

In the end, he simply threw down the pen and paper, folded his hands behind his head, and dangled a cigarette from his lips. He began hoping that Li Ka-shing would work a little magic, sending two sharp rises in the stock market to lift his spirits and give him something to celebrate.

At last, he reached a conclusion.

“Put simply, the Major Crimes Unit is just a terrible place to be. If I could transfer to the Organized Crime Bureau or the Commercial Crime Bureau, wouldn’t money be lying all over the ground, waiting to be picked up and trampled on?”

“And there are plenty of ways to keep your hands clean.”

“There’s no need to rush. I’ve only been here a few days, and I’m already dreaming of wearing a Rolex?”

His mood immediately brightened. He picked up the landline and called the cha chaan teng downstairs, ordering them to send up some takeaway first.

“If I’m not well fed, how am I supposed to accomplish anything great?”

While Lam Tin-shing paired an ice-cold Budweiser with an egg-fried rice omelet and watched TVB’s new series The King of Gamblers, Tang Kang-wan was basking in the sun on the Kwai Tsing Highway, in the Kwai Chung section. Wearing a reflective vest and straddling his motorcycle, he stood guard at an intersection.

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The King of Gamblers, written and directed by Wong Jing, marked one of the early shoots of Hong Kong’s gambling-film genre. Starring Patrick Tse and Wong Chuen-ming, it was enjoying excellent ratings.

When the traffic light turned green, a blue Ford sedan did not drive away with the flow. Instead, it stopped brazenly in the middle of the intersection.

As the door opened, a man emerged before Tang Kang-wan. He was dressed in a suit with a striped tie and wore glasses. He stood six feet tall, with fair skin, a high nose bridge, and sharp, star-like eyes.

Tang Kang-wan had initially looked displeased. He had already pulled out his ballpoint pen to copy down the offender’s ticket when his expression suddenly froze.

In disbelief, he cried, “Chi Wai?”

Refined and scholarly, with neatly slicked-back hair and delicate features, Chung Chi Wai watched his brother approach and smiled.

“Why are you calling me Chi Wai?”

“Sorry, Inspector Chung.”

Tang Kang-wan’s expression turned cold, and he stopped in his tracks.

Chung Chi Wai sighed, thumped him on the shoulder, and cursed, “You nutter. Has your brain gone soft?”

Tang Kang-wan pondered for a long while before tentatively calling out, “Brother Top Scholar?”

“You idiot. Still as stupid as ever. When are you going to sharpen your wits?”

Among the Four Great Sergeants, Chung Chi Wai was the third oldest, only two years older than Tang Kang-wan.

Strictly speaking, even the “Boxing Addict,” who had won the police force’s martial-arts championship six years in a row, was only twenty-five. Back then, he had entered the force and immediately helped Brother Lok compete in a boxing tournament, winning the five-million-dollar grand prize and becoming a rising star of the Teochew gang. For a time, his reputation had been unstoppable.

Now, he was merely a traffic officer, copying down license plates and directing traffic.

Tang Kang-wan scratched his head. His young, dark face carried a trace of awkwardness. “I’m going to be like this for the rest of my life. I can’t compare with you, Brother Top Scholar.”

Still, his three years as a traffic officer had been quite satisfying.

Chung Chi Wai spoke. “Brother Shing has come back into the game. Did you know?”

Tang Kang-wan was stunned for a moment. A trace of remembrance passed through his eyes. “I heard someone mention it.”

“Let’s have a proper meal together tonight. Yong Kee’s pork-chop rice.”

Chung Chi Wai knew that Tang Kang-wan, who loved his food, would never refuse.

“Sure. I finish work in another hour and a half.”

Tang Kang-wan agreed as expected. He put on his helmet, swung both arms, and jogged back toward the middle of the intersection.

“Three years…”

Chung Chi Wai’s gaze grew deep and unreadable. No one knew what he was thinking.

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