Chapter 132: My Name Is Qiao Jiading
My name is Qiao Jiading.
I lied.
I don't actually live in Guangdong. I'm just here looking for someone.
But for me, it doesn't matter where I am.
After all, after doing four years in the slammer for Uncle Rong, Bolan Street had become a place I no longer recognized.
The day I got out, only one low-level thug came to pick me up.
None of the brothers from the gang showed up. Uncle Rong didn't show up either.
In those four years, only Jiu Zai had come to visit a few times, but I hadn't seen him in a long while either.
"Brother Jing! Over here!" The thug saw me come out and waved enthusiastically from across the street.
"You are…" I sort of forgot where I'd seen him before.
"Liang the Lowlife, Brother Jing."
Liang the Lowlife—I'd heard that kind of common street name countless times. I couldn't put a face to it.
Four years ago, I had over a hundred underlings, and those underlings had their own underlings. How was I supposed to remember them all?
I had no choice but to pretend I recognized him. "Why are you here?"
"Brother Jing, I came to pick you up." He pulled me over to a beat-up old pickup truck parked nearby. "Get in quick. Hard time in the slammer, huh? I'll take you to have some fun."
At that moment, I couldn't describe the feeling in my heart.
I had taken the fall for Uncle Rong, but in four years, he hadn't so much as glanced my way.
But if you asked me if I regretted it?
No regrets.
When I was eleven years old, Jiu Zai and I stabbed a local thug to death with a knife.
If Uncle Rong hadn't taken us out of the Kowloon Walled City, taught me how to fight, and given us jobs, we'd have been dead in the gutter by now.
Four years wasn't enough time to repay that debt.
Uncle Rong and Jiu Zai must have been busy. I'd just have to go to the gang to see them.
The truck kept driving toward Mong Kok, but instead of entering Bolan Street, it circled around on Shandong Street for a while before finally stopping in front of a noodle shop.
It was a tiny noodle shop. I didn't know why we were here.
Liang the Lowlife pulled the handbrake and turned to me with a smile. "Brother Jing! You hungry? Grab a bite first?"
"I'm not hungry. Take me to see Uncle Rong."
"Aw…" Liang the Lowlife opened the door and got out, saying to me, "You gotta see Uncle Rong with a full stomach. You don't want him to have to feed you, do you?"
I couldn't argue with him, so I got out and walked into the noodle shop. The place was empty. The owner was an old man.
"What'll it be?" the old man asked, not exactly friendly.
"Anything'll do!" Liang the Lowlife grinned. "Bring us the special!"
I sat down, sighing at how fast the times had changed. Mong Kok looked completely different from four years ago. I wondered who was running Shandong Street now.
Was it still Rotten Teeth?
The old shopkeeper brought over two bowls of assorted noodles, tossing them onto the table none too gently, splashing broth everywhere.
I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite.
It was good.
Much better than the garbage in the slammer.
I barely chewed. I just gulped down the scalding noodles, and only then did I feel like I was truly alive.
I set down my soup bowl and noticed there were other customers in the shop now. A few guys were picking their teeth with toothpicks, their eyes fixed on us the whole time.
When they saw I was done eating, that table of four stood up and came over to us.
Liang the Lowlife sensed something was off and quickly stood up. "Uh… brothers… what can I do for you?"
"All done eating?" the lead thug said with a smile. "There's a 'noodle-eating fee' here. One hundred bucks a head."
I looked up at the old shopkeeper. He was muttering curses under his breath, "All day long, come and collect, collect and collect—go spend it on your mother's grave!"
But despite his loud mouth, the shopkeeper just went on washing dishes, obviously used to this kind of scene.
"Watch your mouth, you old bastard!" one of the lackeys pointed at him.
"So what?!" The old man slammed down a bowl and grabbed a cleaver. "Want a piece of me?!"
"Alright, alright…" The lead thug waved his hand. "We've already collected the protection fee. By the rules, we can't mess with him. Today, we're just collecting the 'noodle-eating fee.'"
I really didn't get it.
Times had changed. Changed to the point where I couldn't understand them.
Collecting a protection fee from the shopkeeper—that I could understand. But what about the "protection"?
Now, not only were they not protecting him, they were even trying to shake down the customers.
"Who are you working for?" I asked.
"What's it to you? You wanna see my boss?" The thug slapped the table. "Who the hell do you think you are? What turf you from?"
"Where am I from?"
Hearing that, I couldn't sit still anymore. Mong Kok was Uncle Rong's territory. How could there be people here who didn't know me?
When I moved to stand up, Liang the Lowlife quickly stopped me. "No, no… Brother Jing, let me handle this. I got this."
He pulled a handful of loose change from his pocket, counted out two hundred dollars, and handed it over.
"Sorry about that, brothers. We'll finish up and be on our way."
The thug took the money, grinned, and patted Liang the Lowlife on the cheek. "Smart move!"
I knew I'd been out for less than three hours. Better not to stir up trouble. Besides, even a strong dragon shouldn't cross a local snake. So I didn't stop Liang the Lowlife. I just let him handle it.
But then the thug took the money but didn't leave. He spoke again, "What about the soup-drinking fee? You ate the noodles and drank the soup. Soup-drinking fee is five hundred each."
"Uh…?" Liang the Lowlife forced a smile. "Brother, we don't have that much money. Can you cut us some slack… collect it next time?"
I set down my chopsticks and slowly stood up. It was clear that this situation was beyond what Liang the Lowlife could handle.
"Brother Jing! Brother Jing!" Liang the Lowlife came over and grabbed my arm. "I can handle it…"
"What's this? Want to throw down?" The thug shoved Liang the Lowlife aside and looked at me. "The look in your eyes says you're not happy."
"Shopkeeper, how much for one table and chair?" I asked.
"Depends on how you use it," the old man said. "If you break it yourself, it's ten grand. If those four bastards break it, it's free."
"Then you might be taking a loss."
I never expected to take down these guys in just ten seconds.
No, to be exact, eight and a half seconds.
They looked like they'd never been in a real fight with dozens of people. Did this era only require bluffing to make money?
"Boss… stop hitting…" The lead thug groaned and begged for mercy. "I was wrong… what crew are you from…"
"I don't care who you work for. Tell your boss that A-Jing from Bolan Street is back. If there's a problem, he can come talk to me directly. I'll take everything on."
I saw Liang the Lowlife's face instantly fill with panic at my words. I'm not smart, so I didn't know what he was thinking.
"A-Jing…" The thug stared blankly for a moment. "You're the 426 Red Pole under Rong the Gambler?"
A meaningful expression crossed his face. Without another word, he and his men scrambled to their feet and ran off.
"Brother Jing… we're screwed…" Liang the Lowlife glanced anxiously in the direction the men had run, then turned back to me. "Your return can't be kept secret. You need to lay low in the mainland for a while!"
"Lay low?" I didn't understand at all. "What do I need to lay low for? Take me to see Uncle Rong."
Had I done something wrong by taking the fall for Uncle Rong?
I'm too dumb. I couldn't figure it out.
"You can't see Uncle Rong anymore!" Liang the Lowlife said urgently. "Brother Jing, Uncle Rong took the gang's money and skipped town with Brother Jiu!"
"What?" That hit me like a thunderbolt. "Uncle Rong stole from the gang?"
"He took two million. The whole gang is hunting him down now!"
Hearing that, I slowly sat back down.
Nonsense.
Jiu Zai was with Uncle Rong. How could they do something so stupid?
Ever since I was a kid, Uncle Rong always said one thing—
"A-Jing, A-Jiu—you two are my fists and my brain. I can't do without either of you."