Chapter 239

The next day, as usual, he woke early and did a simple set of punches and kicks in the cramped space to exercise. Then Wang Yan paid for the officers to buy him dim sum.

With nothing to do here, bored, Wang Yan remembered his long-neglected seated meditation. He simply sat down, emptied his mind, and quietly waited for time to pass.

Human thoughts are too numerous; completely abandoning them is nearly impossible. Wang Yan relied on his vast experience—he could let go only because he had seen so much. Had he not endured all that, his mind would be flooded with desires, and closing his eyes would bring only money.

Wang Yan closed his eyes, focused deeply, and his spirit wandered beyond the physical world until the sound of a door opening made him open his eyes.

"Let's go. Inspector Mu wants to interrogate you."

He glanced at his watch—just past noon—and smiled as he stood, slipped on his shoes, put on his handcuffs, and followed the junior officer to the interrogation room.

"Inspector Mu." The officer, after securing Wang Yan in the chair, looked at Mu Hualiang.

Mu Hualiang waved his hand: "Go eat. I'll manage on my own."

"Yes." The junior officer bowed politely and closed the door as he left.

Wang Yan smiled at Mu Hualiang across from him: "Inspector Mu, you look drained. Didn't get enough rest?"

Mu Hualiang had no time for useless talk: "Who are you really?"

Wang Yan shook his handcuffs lightly and said coolly: "Inspector Mu doesn't seem to have a bad memory. Yesterday, you personally arrested me. What was the charge again?"

Wang Yan frowned, thought for a moment, then looked suddenly enlightened: "Oh… right—it was suspicion of involvement in Triad illegal activities. If that's the case, then tell me, who am I? Personally, I don't think I'm a gangster at all—best case, I'm just a pawn who gets pushed around."

He couldn't admit he was a gangster—even though the surveillance was off and only Mu Hualiang was present—if the man chose to be shameless and claimed he confessed, a Senior Inspector could easily lock him up for a year. Of course, Mu Hualiang wasn't that stupid; that would be like begging to die after living too comfortably.

"You know what I mean."

"Actually, for me, which side you're on doesn't matter. Who I am matters even less." Wang Yan shook his head. "What matters is whether you want promotion, whether you want wealth."

Mu Hualiang curled his lip: "Bribe me? Make me your shield?"

"Too low-class. Promotion requires real achievements, doesn't it? Catching drug dealers brings more credit than catching me. Isn't the most stable path the one without money-power deals? I just wonder if you have the ability to rise under the foreign devils."

Mu Hualiang fell into thought. After a long silence, as if making a decision: "What do you want me to do?"

He didn't doubt Wang Yan's ability to deliver on his promises. Yesterday, he hadn't rested—he'd spent the night digging into Wang Yan's records. The man had been silent and unnoticed before, with only a reputation for being tough in Sha Tin, otherwise nothing.

Yet suddenly, in barely half a month, he'd become the boss of two hundred men. If becoming a boss were this easy, wouldn't every man on Hong Kong Island be a thug? Even if yesterday's hundred were newly recruited, just standing shoulder to shoulder with Wang Yan against their former bosses spoke volumes.

Add to that his strange, mystical demeanor—he found it hard not to believe. Most crucially, he had nothing to lose. If Wang Yan was lying to him, then things would get interesting—he was still a cop, after all.

Mu Hualiang's agreement was expected. If he were just a regular inspector, Wang Yan wouldn't have bothered with him. Precisely because he was a Senior Inspector, a squad leader, his desire for power was stronger—he was only one step away from becoming Chief Inspector.

Add to that, four months ago, after multiple rounds of negotiations, the two governments issued a joint declaration: reunification was inevitable. When the foreign devils packed up and left, wouldn't the Chinese officers have to think for themselves?

As for which side Mu Hualiang stood on—it didn't matter. Even if he sided with the foreign devils, what could they do? Police had to follow rules; they couldn't arrest him without cause. And even if they falsely arrested him, it would only work for a short while—after a few more months, once Wang Yan was fully established, he'd be untouchable.

"Don't worry—it's just turning a blind eye. I won't make it hard for you." Wang Yan shook his head. "As for when to start… wait a while longer. My position isn't stable yet, and provoking those people now would be trouble."

"I'll trust you once. If you lie to me, you know…" Mu Hualiang smiled warmly at Wang Yan. "Your men already sent a lawyer. But to keep face, I still have to hold you for twenty-four hours."

Wang Yan smiled: "Of course."

He called the lawyer only to prevent the police from fabricating charges against him. Twenty-four hours in custody couldn't be solved by a lawyer.

Later, Wang Yan met Xu Guanwen, the lawyer, and Seeing Ruan Mei.

Wang Yan smiled: "What are you doing here? Worried about me?"

Seeing Ruan Mei had been cheerfully registering patients that morning, but after waiting a long time without seeing Wang Yan, she heard from a well-informed person that he'd been arrested. Without hesitation, she ran upstairs to find Xu Guanwen, nervously followed him to the lawyer, and hadn't even drunk her morning medicine…

"It's not that! I'm worried you'll be locked up for ten or twenty years and ruin my treatment!" Seeing Ruan Mei insisted, scolding Wang Yan: "I told you to behave, but you wouldn't listen. Now look—you got arrested. Serves you right."

Ignoring her denial, Wang Yan said calmly: "I'm getting out tonight. Tomorrow, everything goes back to normal. Don't worry."

Then, ignoring Seeing Ruan Mei's flushed face and stubborn silence, he turned to Xu Guanwen, who was watching the scene, and asked about last night's gains, then instructed the lawyer to register a company and draft contracts for management fees—after all, he'd spent the money, so he had to get something done.

Finally, he gave Xu Guanwen a full list of tasks.

Yesterday, he hadn't just humiliated several major gangs—he'd seized territory, recruits, and revenue. If he didn't make them submit, there'd be no peace.

Seeing Ruan Mei, hearing figures of tens or hundreds of thousands, and talk of clubs, night battles, and ambushes, was nearly stunned. She didn't care about Wang Yan's wealth—she rushed forward, grabbing his arm: "Brother Yan, please, I beg you—don't cause trouble!"

"If I don't hit them, they'll hit me. Then it'll be broken arms and legs—what choice do you suggest?" Wang Yan patted her shoulder. "Don't worry—I'll be back tomorrow morning. Won't delay your treatment."

"At a time like this, you're still saying this? You're so annoying…" Seeing Ruan Mei swung a flurry of wild punches, then turned and stormed off: "All you think about is fighting—you'll end up dead, chopped to pieces, I swear…"

She knew she couldn't control him, but she had to say it—otherwise, it choked her.

Watching Seeing Ruan Mei's retreating back, her shoulder-length hair flying wildly from her quick movements, Wang Yan grinned and gave Xu Guanwen a knowing look. The latter, quick-witted, grabbed the lawyer and hurried after her.

Night. Outside Sha Tin Police Station. Wang Yan, wearing a sleeveless shirt, loose shorts, cloth slippers, a slicked-back pompadour, and a flashy outfit, got into a battered car parked at the gate.

"Brother Yan, the guys are ready nearby." The junior in the front passenger seat turned back to Wang Yan.

Wang Yan grunted, closed his eyes, and relaxed in the back seat.

Through the rearview mirror, the two front-seat juniors watched their boss in silence. For a moment, the car held only suppressed breaths drowned out by engine noise.

After a while, the driver said: "Brother Yan, a few cars have been following us."

Wang Yan smiled: "Find a quiet place to stop." It was deep night; though few people were out, disturbing their night stroll would be rude.

The junior didn't hesitate—he turned sharply into an alley and stopped.

"You two stay in the car. Getting out means getting beaten."

Wang Yan grabbed a club, tossed out one last line, and opened the door to step out.

The two juniors exchanged glances, then without a word opened their doors and got out: "Brother Yan, you drive off first—we'll cover your back."

Wang Yan shook his head helplessly. He didn't argue—they'd get beaten anyway, and they couldn't fight more than a few men. It was pointless. But since they wanted to take the beating, he wouldn't stop them—it wasn't his pain.

Moments later, a flurry of screeching tires as four cars pulled up before him. Doors flew open, and over twenty men spilled out. At their head was the same fool who'd mimed slashing his throat last night.

He twirled a knife, sneered, and stepped toward Wang Yan: "I was planning to ambush you, but you've got guts. Now, I'll give you a chance—kneel down and bow…"

He'd already reached Wang Yan's side. Wang Yan had zero interest in words—he swung the club straight at the man's head, knocked him down, then charged forward.

In the alley, a storm of clattering blows and sharp screams ended. Wang Yan said: "Stay to the side. Don't blame me if you get crushed."

Then, with two bruised, swollen juniors, he took one car each.

Hearing engines roar, the crowd scrambled, helping each other clear a path, watching the three cars speed away.

Yes, Wang Yan had switched cars—these four vehicles were far better than his battered one…

As for the guy who was yelling the loudest at first, he cut off one hand and both legs, and severed all the tendons. Before taking action, he even kindly asked which hand the man used daily; since he was right-handed, he spared the left hand—giving him a chance to reform, starting from his hand again.

Although war was coming, the situation hadn't reached that point, so Wang Yan didn't bring anyone to clash head-on. All shops were closed today; those too injured to work stayed home, while those with lighter injuries—as the earlier driver boy had said—were all ready. But they weren't preparing in Ma On Shan itself; they were gathered at the main base behind those few shops.

As far as he knew, the other side was still blocking him at yesterday's location and had smashed up his few shops. They couldn't possibly not have heard he escaped; and since Sha Tin Police Station was still quite far from Ma On Shan, and they'd just been near the precinct, he had enough time to strike their home base and counterattack.

…

When he returned to the public housing unit, it was already late at night. He turned on the light; Ruan Mei was fast asleep in bed, and the table still held covered meals.

He quietly turned and shut the door, tiptoed forward, and stood silently beside the bed, studying Ruan Mei. To be fair, she was truly beautiful. Among all the women he'd been with, in his own aesthetic judgment, she ranked among the top.

He shook his head, washed the blood off his hands at the sink, then sat down and ate the cold rice as quietly as possible.

That night, all the bosses of those few firms, except one who fled the moment things turned bad, had their legs broken. All the hoodlums who had blocked them and smashed the shops were thoroughly taught a lesson. Under the 5,000-salary offer, he recruited many more. Some had already come to join, but Wang Yan paid so well that many simply joined outright. Those who refused—if they'd been earning more before—got their legs broken too, to help them exit the underworld.

Of course, Wang Yan didn't take everyone. He did a simple screening; in the end, he had over three hundred men. He couldn't afford even more than this. At three hundred men, five thousand each per month, just salaries totaled one and a half million. Not counting drinks, meat, or other expenses.

His gains from this battle—various shops, cash—added up to only about two million. Compared to his distant past, when he ran international bookmaking in Infernal Path, the difference wasn't slight. Back then, he truly had endless money; one trip out could net tens of millions—damn American dollars…

But Wang Yan had no intention of returning to his old line. He was this powerful now—how pitiful would it be to go back to that? Back then, he lacked ability and experience, and was desperate to grow. Now he wasn't in a hurry. Chasing that narrow path was pointless—he'd take it step by step, slowly.

After this battle, Wang Yan had firmly established himself in Ma On Shan, and expanded southward toward Shek Mun. He wouldn't dare claim Hong Kong or Kowloon—there were still massive gangs with thousands there—but in Sha Tin, he definitely had a name. In terms of the leveling-up path, he was just leaving the新手村 and heading toward the city.

He finished eating the meals Ruan Mei had left on the table, drank a sip of cooled boiled water to soothe his throat and fill the gaps.

Ruan Mei had no flaws except being stingy. Her cooking improved daily, and she managed household affairs with perfect order. Because she'd agreed to clean and do laundry in exchange for using his pot to boil medicine, she complained every day about lost income—but she truly cared. His home was always spotless.

After drinking, Wang Yan took off his clothes and lay beside Ruan Mei. This bed was the largest item in the room—the system's initial setup—not a single-person cot, but significantly larger, about one and a half people wide, given the house's overall space. He slept quietly, so two people fit perfectly.

No sooner had he lain down than Ruan Mei, sensing movement beside her or smelling his familiar scent, rolled over and placed her leg across him, burying her head in his chest.

From this motion, Wang Yan deduced she probably slept on top of the covers…

He didn't move to disturb her dream. He'd been worn out from the night's exertions, closed his eyes, and fell asleep without realizing it. He swore—he didn't move at all…

The next day, Wang Yan woke up as usual, on time. But seeing Ruan Mei still clinging to him, and remembering he'd returned late last night, he decided to sleep in again.

After about an hour, sensing movement beside him, drowsy Wang Yan woke up—but kept his eyes shut.

Ruan Mei lifted her head, looking at the man she was hugging, then noticed her leg was draped over him.

"Pervert, you bastard—you're taking advantage of me…"

Wang Yan opened his eyes and grabbed both her hands: "Look clearly—this is my house."

"Then why didn't you wake me up?" Ruan Mei snapped. "You just want to take advantage of me."

Wang Yan lied with a straight face: "I called you, but you wouldn't wake up. I couldn't sleep on the floor or the street, could I? Catch a cold, get sick—who pays the medical bills?"

Ruan Mei's defiance faded: "You really called me?"

"I called." Wang Yan released her hands, looking disgusted. "You sleep like a pig—and drool…"

"Stop talking!" Ruan Mei blushed, scowled, punched him twice, then slipped on her shoes and fled.

Wang Yan called after her: "No need to make breakfast—I'll buy some later…"

No reply. Wang Yan chuckled, got up, changed into a new half-sleeve T-shirt and cotton shorts with cloth shoes, picked up his old clothes and shoes, went downstairs to toss them in the trash, then bought breakfast and returned.

Ruan Mei was still mad, but seeing Wang Yan calmly eating, she couldn't hold back: "Hey, how'd it go yesterday? You look fine—didn't get slashed, right?"

"You hoping I get killed?"

"No, I didn't mean that…"

"Look how flustered you are." Wang Yan stuffed a bun in his mouth and mumbled: "Yesterday went smoothly. Now big brother's the boss of Ma On Shan. Next time you go out, mention my name—nobody dares touch you."

"Really that powerful? I've never seen a boss living in public housing." Ruan Mei snorted, rolled her eyes, then leaned forward curiously, staring wide-eyed at Wang Yan: "But seriously—were those tens of millions, hundreds of millions you mentioned real?"

"What? You wanna rob me?"

"Just asking! Tell me!"

"…You know those bars, dance halls on that street?"

"Yeah, what about them?"

"Mine." Wang Yan shrugged. "And what about that street?"

Ruan Mei nodded dumbly: "Yours too?"

"Not just that. Starting next Monday, I'll start collecting management fees—oh, protection money. So tell me, do I have money?"

"How much would that be…" Ruan Mei's eyes sparkled with longing. Then she snapped out of it: "Even if you say all that, you still live in public housing! What's so impressive?"

"You know how many underlings I have?" Before she could answer, Wang Yan held up three fingers: "Over three hundred. Five thousand each per month—that's nearly two million, just for salaries. As boss, I have to treat them to drinks and meat, pay medical bills when they get hurt in fights—all expenses. Where's the money to live in a thousand-square-foot mansion?"

"Five thousand?" Ruan Mei stared at him in disbelief. "You pay hoodlums five thousand a month?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong? That's five thousand! Don't you know how hard it is for me and Grandma to save? We barely save a few thousand a month. And you're paying hoodlums five thousand each, every month?"

"They might get slashed to death any day—high risk, high pay."

Ruan Mei glared at Wang Yan, then said: "Since you're so rich, why not just stop collecting protection money? They're struggling to run their businesses, work hard to earn, and now you're robbing them… What? Why are you glaring at me? You just like to scare me…"

Under Wang Yan's gaze, Ruan Mei's voice faded until she fell silent. Then, shamelessly, she said: "Why should they pay others and not me? What logic is that? I've unified Ma On Shan—I protect them from other gangs, stop them from being overcharged. Isn't that helping them? They pay me, I protect their businesses, keep others from harassing them, maintain a good environment so they can earn more—it's mutual benefit. Why do you call it robbery?"

Ruan Mei pouted, lowered her head, and sipped her porridge: "I was just saying something… Why get so angry?"

"You can't even afford to treat your own illness—if I hadn't helped you, you might be dead by now. Don't think about yourself, yet you care about others?" Wang Yan glared. "Eat."

Hit with a scolding, Ruan Mei shot Wang Yan a furious look, then buried her head and ate violently—as if chewing on Wang Yan himself, determined to bite him to death…

Wang Yan didn't care at all. He even teased her a little, finding her loud, dramatic behavior genuinely amusing.

The old lady was the same—smiling as she ate, happily watching them bicker. She'd raised her granddaughter since childhood; she knew her little schemes too well. Wang Yan? She was quite satisfied. The only problem: he didn't do anything legitimate, and who knew when he'd end up dead on the street, dragging them down with him. She wanted to urge her granddaughter to turn back, but her words carried no weight. Besides, she still needed Wang Yan for treatment and recovery. After spending time together, she'd grown used to him. So she let it be—let them do as they pleased. She couldn't control them anyway.

After eating, Wang Yan rested in his room for a while, then began his daily medical rounds. Everyone knew Wang Yan had been arrested—but later learned he'd only been held for twenty-four hours. Honestly, no one thought much of it. Families with hoodlums on the streets—whose members hadn't been jailed? Was that even worth mentioning? They didn't even worry.

Now Wang Yan's reputation had spread—specifically, his reputation as a Physician. These public housing residents worked all over Hong Kong and Kowloon; during work breaks, they'd exchange health stories. And since Wang Yan was a hoodlum—and the boss at that—his legend grew. Many were skeptical, but drawn by low prices, they came to see if he was truly miraculous. It was foreseeable: with time, the name "Wang the Divine Physician" would echo throughout Hong Kong and Kowloon…

As for the protagonist, Fang Zhanbo—he'd been living here for two or three days now. He'd surely learned how powerful Wang Mou really was. Though still despised by all, he avoided Ruan Mei completely, crossing the street at the sight of Wang Yan. Too dangerous to approach—he'd given up on Ruan Mei for good.