Chapter 238: Entered

In the tiny, under-twenty-square-meter public housing unit, an old cabinet held a few strung bead necklaces; in the corner, several bags contained made-up hangers, and other miscellaneous items were neatly arranged. Though cramped, the floor was clean and the cabinet spotless. A new electric fan on the table swiveled left and right, sending cool air through the room and dispelling the heavy medicinal odor.

This was Ruan Mei's room, where Wang Yan was having dinner with her and the old woman. The fan was, of course, Wang Yan's gift—Ruan Mei, as stingy as she was, would never spend money on a new fan. He had no objection to new things, nor did he mind the pervasive medicinal smell throughout the building. Compared to the old, rotting mildew odor, he actually preferred the current medicinal scent.

After taking a bite of food, Wang Yan said, "Your cooking's improved lately."

The meal consisted of the four dishes and one soup he'd requested—fish and meat, with decent presentation—and combined with the takeout dishes he'd brought back, it was quite lavish.

He wasn't lying; the taste was indeed passable. At first, her cooking was barely edible, but over half a month, Ruan Mei improved rapidly—truly clever-handed.

Ruan Mei sat to the side, poking at her rice with chopsticks, ignoring Wang Yan, muttering under her breath about "bastards" and "cheats."

The old woman paid no attention, happily eating her meal. She felt life was good now—her health had improved, her granddaughter's illness was treatable, and the food quality had risen. She was enjoying her blessings.

If only Wang Yan weren't a gangster… what a good kid he'd be—how could he have gone down this wrong path…

"Snap out of it." Wang Yan flicked Ruan Mei on the forehead.

Ruan Mei yelped, then swung her "Wang Ba fists" at Wang Yan: "That hurt! You always pick on me every day—I'm sick of you…"

"What's wrong with you, so gloomy? Bad moods affect your treatment. Tell me."

"Ah…"

Hearing it affected her treatment, Ruan Mei stopped her Wang Ba fists, clenched her fists, and slammed them on the table: "Yesterday afternoon, the TV broke. I went outside to find a repairman. That guy was a complete scumbag—cheating, lying, stealing. He took fifty bucks from me and left my whole place swarming with mosquitoes. I had to spend twenty-two on insect spray. And when I went to the toilet, he didn't flush, and when he dropped my book in the toilet, he didn't say a word. I had to spend another thirty to unclog it."

"And today, I went to see Tingting—oh, Fang Ting—to borrow a screwdriver to check it myself. But I saw that TV repairman at her house. Tingting said he was her big brother. I asked him to fix the TV, but he didn't fix it—and cheated me out of another five bucks. I spent over a hundred just to fix the TV. What a bastard—he even cheated me for five bucks—I'm furious…"

After hearing this, Wang Yan knew it was the jinx Fang Zhanbo back in town. To be fair, Fang Zhanbo was genuinely tragic—his whole family was dead, and he was the only survivor. After years of wandering, he'd picked up all the habits of a petty thug, but he wasn't even a proper one like Wang Mou—he was stuck halfway, utterly pathetic. He was also reckless with horse racing and stock gambling, with a strong gambling streak. Otherwise, he was mostly normal—no major flaws.

But whether he was normal or not had little to do with Wang Yan. Ruan Mei was his—no way would he let Fang Zhanbo get near her. He'd use this as a pretext to make a show of force, scare him off first.

"I understand."

Wang Yan nodded, set down his chopsticks, and stood up to leave.

"Hey, where are you going? You're not going to beat him up, are you?" Ruan Mei jumped up and grabbed Wang Yan's arm: "I know you're tough, but we're neighbors—don't cause trouble, okay? Yan-ge, I'm calling you Yan-ge!"

"Where do you get that idea? I'm going to get him to fix the TV—I can't fix it myself." Wang Yan patted her hand: "Relax. I know them well. I even helped them get rid of the cockroaches with my herbal mix. I won't hit anyone."

It wasn't a lie. Southern cockroaches were huge and resilient; in the chaotic public housing, they were inevitable. Wang Yan had casually prepared plenty of insect-repelling sachets, included them in his medical fees, and delivered them door-to-door. Now, not a single cockroach remained in the building—probably all dead in the sewers.

As for fixing the TV, he didn't know how, but fiddling with it wouldn't hurt. As a kid, he'd taken apart everything he could get his hands on—he had some experience, at least.

Hearing his explanation, Ruan Mei eyed him warily: "You really won't hit him?"

"Why are you so nagging?" He flicked her forehead again. "Fine. You and Grandma keep eating. I'll go get him to fix it."

Saying that, he shook off Ruan Mei's hand and strolled out, heading straight to the Fang family's door, and without a word, banged hard—"Ding—Bang!"

"Coming, coming! I heard you! Knock softer!"

Fang Ting opened the door, and seeing Wang Yan outside, asked curiously: "It's Yan-ge? What's up?"

"Is your big brother home?"

Fang Ting eyed Wang Yan warily. She knew her brother had repaired Ruan Mei's TV, and now Wang Yan showed up—she assumed he'd come to avenge her. After all, everyone in the building knew Ruan Mei was with Wang Yan…

"Yan-ge, can't we just pay compensation to Ah-Mei? Please don't beat up my big brother?"

Wang Yan sighed: "Do you think I care about that little money? I want your brother to fix the TV."

"You really won't hit him?"

Wang Yan glared: "Want me to bring people to block your door?"

Luo Huiling, hearing the commotion, walked over, glanced at Wang Yan, and asked Fang Ting: "What's going on?"

After hearing the explanation, Luo Huiling stepped forward and opened the door: "Come in."

Wang Yan walked in and saw Fang Fang and Fang Min sitting at the table eating. Fang Fang said nothing; Fang Min politely greeted, "Yan-ge."

The protagonist of this drama, Fang Zhanbo, lay sprawled on a folding bed, reeking of alcohol, passed out cold.

Luo Huiling gave Wang Yan an apologetic look, then stepped forward and shook Fang Zhanbo: "Zhanbo, wake up. Someone's here to fix the TV."

Fang Zhanbo, buried under the blanket, mumbled: "Sis Huiling, let me sleep, okay? I can't fix the TV—go find someone else."

Fang Ting knelt beside the bed and said gently: "No, it's the guy you fixed the TV for yesterday—he's here."

"Damn bitch, why won't you shut up? So annoying!" Fang Zhanbo didn't even lift his head, shouting irritably: "Tomorrow. I'm sleeping."

The atmosphere froze. All four women stared at Wang Yan.

Wang Yan smiled faintly: "I'll handle it."

Luo Huiling quickly blocked him: "Ah… Yan, we're neighbors—please don't hit him. Can't we just get someone to fix Ah-Mei's TV tomorrow?"

"Hit him?" Fang Zhanbo heard the voice, yanked off the blanket, sat up, and yelled: "Come on, hit me! Hit me… ah…"

Seeing Wang Yan's smiling mouth and the flashy tattoos on his exposed muscles, Fang Zhanbo's voice trailed off, then vanished. He avoided Wang Yan's gaze, utterly flustered.

Wang Yan looked at Fang Zhanbo, then glanced at the black-and-white photo displayed on the cabinet, and chuckled: "I know him—Fang Jinxin, called the 'Stock God.' I didn't know before, but now I see—you're Fang Jinxin's daughters?"

Looking at the three Fang sisters, Wang Yan turned back to Fang Zhanbo: "So you're Fang Jinxin's son? They say a tiger doesn't have a dog for a son. Fang Jinxin was so impressive back then—how did you turn out so useless? Picking on women and hiding behind them? Are you brave?"

Fang Zhanbo couldn't take the mockery—ordinary insults he'd shrug off, but bringing up his dead father? He couldn't stand it: "You think you're tough? Are you tougher than Zhongqing Society? Showing off here means nothing—have the guts to go after them?"

"Don't try to provoke me. I've heard about the feud between your family and Ding Xie, Ding Xiaoxie's father. Talking won't help. You should be worried about yourself." Wang Yan shook his head, ignoring everyone else's reactions, and stared coldly at him: "I won't hit you for cursing just now—we're neighbors. But don't do it again. Now, go fix my TV."

Seeing Wang Yan's dangerous gaze, Fang Zhanbo's bravado faded—he was genuinely afraid. Just by looking, he knew Wang Yan could kill him. But to bow now? He'd just thrown down the gauntlet—he couldn't back down. Yet, within moments, Wang Yan's dead-eyed stare had him sweating.

Luo Huiling, ever understanding, released her grip on Wang Yan, turned, stepped to Fang Zhanbo, and slapped the back of his head: "What are you standing there for? Go fix Ah-Mei's TV and apologize!"

Fang Zhanbo cried out, scrambled up, and fled past Wang Yan, glancing at Ruan Mei standing at the door before rushing into her room.

"I'm so sorry," Luo Huiling said awkwardly to Wang Yan. Fang Zhanbo was clearly in the wrong, and Wang Yan coming here was justified—but Fang Zhanbo had cursed and provoked him. By now, they all knew how feared Wang Yan was in the neighborhood. Him not hitting anyone was already a favor.

"It's fine."

Wang Yan shook his head and turned to leave.

"Wait." Luo Huiling stepped forward: "How did you know about Fang Jinxin?"

"What's strange about that? I'm a gangster. To take over territory, I can't ignore Zhongqing Society, which holds a big chunk of Sha Tin. You know—know your enemy. I had to learn. And Fang Jinxin was a public figure—any feud would be common gossip." Wang Yan waved his hand: "I'm off. You all eat."

Saying that, Wang Yan stepped out and walked back with Ruan Mei: "I said I wouldn't hit him—why'd you follow me?"

"What if…"

"What if you can stop him?" Seeing her still muttering, Wang Yan waved his hand impatiently. "Hurry up and go, let's go eat. It'll taste awful if it gets cold."

While they spoke, the two walked back to the entrance and saw Fang Zhanbo stepping out.

It's not that complicated—just adjust it a bit, so you go in and come right out. Seeing Wang Yan at the door, Fang Zhanbo said nothing and simply avoided him and walked off.

"Look how scared you made her," Ruan Mei snapped, slapping Wang Yan.

Wang Yan flicked her on the forehead in return: "I'm standing up for you—whose side are you on?"

"You've hit me three times already—it hurts! And hitting the head makes you dumb," Ruan Mei clutched her head, grimacing in pain.

"Like you're so smart."

Ruan Mei immediately wanted to swing her Wang Ba fists and fight back, but when she saw Wang Yan pressing his thumb against his middle finger and blowing on it, she grumbled and hurried inside to sit down and eat.

Though she complained aloud, Ruan Mei was still glad Wang Yan stood up for her—the TV was fixed, and now she had appetite for dinner.

After dinner, they rested until eight, then set off leisurely toward their territory.

After half a month of rest and recuperation, his dozens of underlings had not only healed from the beatings he gave them, but their physical condition had improved slightly. Now their forces were strong, morale high—it was time to strike. Tonight, he would unify Ma'an Mountain.

Even though Ma'an Mountain wasn't that big…

At the bar, the place once filled with noise now lay eerily quiet. This was the only thing Wang Yan had taught them in half a month—besides slightly better fitness—obedience.

"Brother Yan, everyone's here, not a single one missing."

Seeing Wang Yan push the door open, Xu Guanwen, who had been sitting quietly smoking, immediately stubbed out his cigarette and reported to his boss.

"Grab your gear. Let's go."

Wang Yan was never a talkative man. He'd spent half a month painting the picture, brainwashing them—everything that needed saying, and everything that didn't, had already been said. More words now were useless—just do it.

In moments, the group grabbed baseball bats, barely containing their excitement, forcing themselves silent. Some trembled; others turned red from holding back—but not a sound. No one dared move now, for if they did, they might get beaten before even hitting anyone else—no point in that.

Wang Yan's standards for gangsters were low—he'd merely set a few rules and slightly reformed their thug habits. The results they showed were purely from being kicked until they were terrified. Raising the overall quality of these gangsters? Still a long way to go…

"Here, Brother Yan," Xu Guanwen stepped forward and handed Wang Yan a bat.

Wang Yan hefted it, then turned: "Let's go."

Fighting wasn't murder—his space's unsanguined Han Feng had no use here. Its greatest use now? Occasionally, when he felt like it in the morning, he'd take it out and play with it…

Wang Yan led, followed by Xu Guanwen and seven other underlings, then the newer recruits. A group of seventy or eighty men marched out, turned right, and passersby scattered like birds and beasts, fleeing in panic.

They split into three squads: Wang Yan led one himself; the other two were led by Xu Guanwen and one of the original eight, to attack the other two locations.

After walking barely a hundred meters, Wang Yan glanced at the sign, then kicked the man standing guard at the entrance, who was shouting threats, sending him flying far away.

The men behind him didn't need orders—they charged in, bats raised.

Wang Yan didn't enter. He'd studied their strength thoroughly over the past months. So many men were more than enough—he didn't need to fight. The other two squads faced the same situation—no major problems.

Soon after the underlings entered, a swarm of men inside fled out in panic. Had Wang Yan not been kind-hearted and reached out to save one man tripped and fallen, he might have died—or at least ended up in the hospital.

After waiting a while, Wang Yan strolled in leisurely—after all, the boss always makes the grand entrance.

Inside, bodies lay sprawled everywhere; a few defiant gangsters were still being beaten by his men.

"Enough. Stop," Wang Yan shouted to halt the chaos. "Who's in charge here?"

A thin, bruised gangster lying on the ground pretending to be dead slowly rose, trembling, pointing at Wang Yan: "Wang Yan, you're dead. Don't you know whose place this is? Don't you know who we answer to?"

Wang Yan didn't understand—after being beaten to the ground, why still act tough? Shouldn't the smartest move be to smile, admit defeat, and regroup to come back and fight him?

Smiling, Wang Yan walked up to the man, grabbed his pointing finger with his bare hand, and snapped it. Then he kicked the man down and swung his bat twice—crack, crack—breaking both of the fool's legs.

The fool rolled on the ground, screaming in agony, wanting to clutch his legs but his hands hurt too much; wanting to protect his hands, his legs hurt even worse.

Annoyed by the noise, Wang Yan kicked him unconscious, then scanned the crowd and smiled: "Who can tell me where the money is?"

Aside from Wang Yan's men, whose eyes twitched, everyone else was stunned. They'd seen brutal men before—but never one who said nothing, smiled, and just acted. This was their first time.

No one answered. Wang Yan frowned impatiently: "Last chance. Where's the money?"

People snapped back to reality. One shouted quickly: "Big Brother, it's in the second room in the back. But we settle accounts daily—today you came suddenly, we haven't been open long, so there isn't much money."

Wang Yan nodded: "From now on, I'm in charge here. Follow me, you get five thousand a month. Don't follow me? Get out now."

Aside from a few who stayed silent, everyone else, hearing such a high salary, immediately switched sides without hesitation. Those who didn't speak? Obviously the petty bosses—they made far more than five thousand a month and looked down on Wang Mou's offer.

"Good. Those who can move, grab your gear and come with us to the next place. Those who can't? Go home. Report here at noon tomorrow."

Wang Yan pointed at the few who stayed silent: "Send a few people—break one leg each."

Without needing orders, several groups formed automatically—two men supporting, one smashing legs. After a few sharp *crack*s accompanied by screams of pain, Wang Yan led his men out and joined the other two squads, who had finished their fights, and hit the street.

Throughout the entire Ma'an Mountain area, according to prior reconnaissance, every irregular entertainment venue—big or small—was raided and beaten down. As they fought, their numbers grew from seventy or eighty to one hundred fifty or sixty, even excluding those who were beaten but now leaned toward the light. If you added them all up, you'd easily reach over two hundred. This force, while no match for major gangs, still commanded a small reputation in Hong Kong and Kowloon—enough to be listed in police files and warrant attention.

At midnight, the two sides faced off on the original entertainment street. Roughly four to five hundred men gathered.

Because Wang Yan had been roaming all over Ma'an Mountain, they couldn't catch him—so they waited here for him.

These men were sent by the few families he hadn't touched yet—the reason he hadn't touched them was precisely because their combined power was substantial.

Now they stood in standoff because all around them, police with drawn guns were aiming…

The opposing side screamed and spat insults wildly. Wang Yan's side, by contrast, listened in silence. The new recruits had initially resisted and shouted back a few times—but seeing the original underlings say nothing, they gradually fell quiet and just listened to the insults.

Smiling at the leader across from him, who was gesturing a throat-slitting motion, Wang Yan didn't turn around and asked: "Who knows who that kid is?"

One of the new recruits shouted loudly: "Big Brother, I know—he's…"

Wang Yan nodded, said nothing more.

"All of you, put your hands on your heads, drop your weapons, and show your ID cards!" came the police megaphone from outside.

Hearing this, Wang Yan was the first to squat down; his men followed suit. Seeing how cowardly they were, the opposing side laughed and mocked them.

Soon after, confirming the scene was secure, police moved forward cautiously, shoving the gangsters and checking IDs.

One officer stepped up to Wang Yan, held out his badge, and looked down: "I'm Senior Superintendent Mu Hualiang of Organized Crime Unit. I formally notify you: I suspect you of involvement in Triad illegal activities. You are required to assist with the investigation."

"Brother Yan!" His men scrambled to rise, shoving against the police.

Wang Yan stood up smiling, hands raised, and turned to Xu Guanwen: "All of you, stay down. Follow the police's orders. Tomorrow, get a lawyer to come bail me out."

Without even glancing at the officer putting the handcuffs on him, Wang Yan smiled at Mu Hualiang: "Superintendent Mu—I wonder which side you're on?"

"What side are you on?" Mu Hualiang frowned at Wang Yan: "I'm warning you, don't meddle."

"Playing dumb?" Wang Yan stared into his eyes: "Then we've got a long road ahead."

Mu Hualiang shifted his gaze uncomfortably, snapped back to reality, and shoved Wang Yan hard: "Get in the car. You won't be let out until you've spent twenty-four hours inside."

Unfortunately, he didn't budge Wang Yan. Feeling the taut muscles under his hand, Mu Hualiang barked: "I told you to get in the car!"

Wang Yan glanced at him, smiled, and added to Xu Guanwen: "Guangwen, watch the place. And buy some late-night snacks to bring to the police station—they've been working all this time, probably hungry. Treat them well." After saying this, Wang Yan walked slowly toward the police car, glancing at the leader across from him who was being treated the same way.

"Don't worry, Brother Yan," came Xu Guanwen's firm reply from behind.

It wasn't practical to arrest everyone here. They were just randomly checking IDs—those without them were out of luck.

Wang Yan was taken because he was newly risen; they locked him up to warn him, to let Wang Mou feel the authority of the police, to know who the real boss was.

They had no evidence to arrest Wang Yan, and even those whose legs he broke wouldn't go to the police. A little injury wouldn't kill Wang Yan—once he got out, they'd all be dead. Most importantly, sometimes there are rules. You go to the police, I go to the police—what's left for us to do? Isn't it better to be a good citizen?

So overall, it's just a twenty-four-hour thing—no big deal.

Xu Guanwen was reliable; barely had Wang Yan been locked up and interrogated at the station when the late-night snacks arrived.

Wang Yan hadn't done anything major yet, and with his friendly face, the junior officers were fairly kind—he ate happily, and most importantly, the snacks were truly good.

The interrogation was nothing much—just him eating boxed meals with the police, filling out personal information, and getting a warning. Simple enough. Afterward, they locked him in a single cell and that was it.

After all, Wang Yan now led two hundred men; a little respect was due. Unless necessary, the police didn't want to offend someone like him—they all had families to care for.

Mu Hualiang didn't come himself—mainly because Wang Yan's random, headless question had frightened him…

Wang Yan didn't care about that. In the single cell, he lay on the bed, crossed his arms, and slept soundly…