Although Uncle Deng couldn't settle things with a single word, his influence was still the greatest.
Whoever he supported would have a very high chance of being elected.
Among the middle generation within Liansheng, there were two people that everyone—without prior coordination—generally agreed were promising.
One was Ah Lok, the hall boss of the Yau Tsim district, full name Lin Huailok (known as Liansheng's "Imperial Goodwill Ambassador").
He always looked warm and pleasant, specializing in small favors and little kindnesses, playing the benevolent Song Gongming type.
The other was Tai Po Black, the hall boss of the North District (nicknamed the "Icy Fresh Chicken King").
Ah Lok was known for being "approachable," always respectful and courteous toward the elders in the society.
Long Gen once said that Ah Lok's emotional intelligence was even higher than Uncle Deng's big, round belly.
His territory was in Yau Tsim, and over the years his power had developed steadily and visibly.
As for Tai Po Black's backer, Uncle Quan, he was an even more mysterious figure.
The true extent of his network was unfathomable; no one could really get to the bottom of it.
According to the original owner's memories, Uncle Deng had once personally sought out Tai Po Black. The two had met for a talk at a sports hall.
But Tai Po Black's attitude was vague—he only said he needed to ask his boss first.
That "asking" turned into a stone sinking into the sea, dragging on for several months.
Uncle Quan never made any statement, leaving Uncle Deng visibly impatient.
The other elders in the society all held ambiguous, wait-and-see attitudes.
The only exception was Chuan Bao.
This elder, who "held sovereignty over the Moonball," openly and forcefully backed Big D.
He praised Big D as powerful, righteous, and responsible, hyping him up to the heavens.
Just short of outright saying how much money he'd taken from him.
As election day drew closer and closer, Uncle Deng suddenly made a public announcement:
The election would be postponed by one month.
Anyone with eyes could tell what he was doing—he wanted to push out a candidate within that month to compete against Big D.
Aside from Chuan Bao, who wholeheartedly supported Big D, all the other elders unanimously agreed.
The reasoning behind this was actually very simple.
Only by letting both sides fight it out could these elders find a sense of relevance in the middle—and seize the chance to skim off some Hong Kong dollars.
If Big D ran unopposed, what use would these elders be?
Power that couldn't be converted into cash wasn't even as good as toilet paper.
Now, back to Fat Wah.
His territory lay on the northern side of Kowloon Walled City, bordering Sha Tin, Sham Shui Po, and Wong Tai Sin.
A true "no-man's-land."
Even hardened toughs wouldn't dare go in alone during the day.
The hall controlled two streets—really just two narrow alleys so cramped you could barely turn around.
After all, the entire Kowloon Walled City covered less than one square kilometer.
The hall's income was mediocre: protection fees, loan sharking, and running underground gambling dens.
There were also three bars, one massage parlor, a mahjong house, and a tiny nightclub.
It wasn't that they didn't want to deal drugs—it was that drug dealing required connections.
Fat Wah hadn't carved out that path for himself.
In fact, most of Liansheng's halls didn't deal drugs.
Not because they didn't want to, but because they couldn't get a foot in the door.
The hall had only 106 officially registered members.
Even counting the外围 "blue-lantern" guys, they barely reached 300 people—placing them firmly in the mid-to-lower tier within Liansheng.
Although Lin Yao was nominally the hall's "white paper fan," the person Fat Wah valued most was actually his top enforcer.
That was the hall's "red pole," Xu Feng—nicknamed "River-Dragon"—twenty-five years old this year.
River-Dragon's parents had both died in a car accident. He'd started following Fat Wah at the age of ten.
Fat Wah had practically raised him, treating him like his own son.
In recent years, Fat Wah had ridden the wave of dividends from the "Four Great Superintendents Era."
If he sold his house and added his years of savings, it would be more than enough for the whole family to emigrate.
He had a son and a daughter, both studying overseas.
One was studying medicine, the other law.
Now, he was determined to "wash his hands in a golden basin," take his family, and emigrate to the Maple Leaf Country.
Hall affairs had already begun to be slowly handed over to River-Dragon.
River-Dragon's relationship with Lin Yao was… subtle.
Although Lin Yao was just a minor nobody (with the hollow title of white paper fan, not really counting for much), his fighting skills were better than this red pole's.
And he was sharper upstairs, too.
The younger brothers respected Lin Yao more.
But River-Dragon was Fat Wah's godson.
If Fat Wah emigrated overseas, the position of hall boss would unquestionably go to River-Dragon.
Ring ring ring—
The second-hand brick-like "Big Brother" phone sitting on the old cabinet suddenly rang.
This thing was solid as hell—the body was thick enough to crack walnuts.
The screen, though, was pitifully small, barely bigger than a postage stamp.
On top was an antenna wrapped in patchy tape.
Making a call depended entirely on luck. When the signal was bad, you had to pull the antenna out as far as it would go.
Sometimes you even had to hold the phone and walk around the room looking for a good spot, like doing a bizarre ritual dance.
Lin Yao grabbed the phone and walked over to the window. Sure enough, the signal jumped up two bars.
The moment he pressed the answer key, a hoarse, scratchy voice came through the receiver, with the distinctive rasp of a short, stocky man—
Lu Qichang (from Infernal Affairs).
Strictly speaking, Lu Qichang wasn't really his superior.
Because a "handler" and an undercover were two different things.
A handler took money to get things done.
An undercover worked their way up from the bottom to return and gain rank and wealth.
"Ah Yao, still recognize my voice?"
Lu Qichang's tone was extremely rough.
That was a habit formed back in his days running the streets—even after putting on a police uniform, he never really cleaned it up.
Within the police force, he was known as the King of Undercover Ops.
Lin Yao smiled into the phone.
"Sir Lu's voice—I'd recognize it even if you turned to ashes."
"So, what good news brings you calling today?"
Lin Yao knew very well that Lu Qichang wasn't some old-school, by-the-book cop.
He had spent years undercover inside the Numbers Gang.
After cracking several major drug cases, he'd returned and been promoted to a senior inspector in the Major Crimes Unit.
But the underworld air about him had only grown stronger.
Handlers were like wires running along the edge—they weren't the ones to strike.
People like them were the real needles, stabbing straight where it hurt.
Someone like Lin Yao—at best called a handler, at worst just a disposable chess piece.
Fat Wah's hall didn't touch drugs, and its territory was pathetically small—completely beneath the police's notice.
Back when they'd planted Lin Yao here, it was only because they truly couldn't break into those drug-running halls.
So they'd pinched their noses and stuck an eye in this insignificant corner.
Counting the days, Lu Qichang hadn't contacted him in nearly three months.
For him to suddenly call now—this was definitely not a small matter.
"There's something. Big thing. Old place. We'll talk face to face."
Lu Qichang said flatly, no emotion in his voice.
"Old place? Where?"
Lin Yao was a little confused.
The original owner's memories were missing a small piece.
"Damn it!"
A low curse came from the receiver as Lu Qichang snapped irritably, his tone full of old-school street cop grit.
"You little bastard, you really think you're some antique now? You can forget even the meeting spots?"
"Kowloon seaside, Black Sand Bay. Third reef pile!"
"Got it. I'll be there."
At least it wasn't the pier.
In Hong Kong movies, piers were the go-to meeting place for cops and informants.
…
Half an hour later.
Lin Yao drove his beat-up second-hand Ford to Black Sand Bay on the Kowloon Peninsula.
According to his vague memories, he'd been here once before.
A place where even birds didn't bother shitting.
"Sir Lu, next time could you pick another spot? Anyone who didn't kno
w better would think we were here to do a drug deal."
Seeing Lu Qichang, Lin Yao couldn't help but complain.