Chapter 105: An Incident and the News (Requesting Initial Subscriptions)

Yan Xu did not attend the celebration banquet for Alan's concert, nor did he even wait for the concert to end. He was still dressed in his performance attire, his face painted with stage makeup.

He had never driven so fast in his life. Every red light at every intersection seemed invisible to him. Fortunately, it was late at night; the streets were nearly empty, and there were no patrolling traffic police. Otherwise, who knows how many accidents he might have caused, or how soon he would have been detained.

Once he exited the Cross-Harbour Tunnel, at the junction of King's Road and Java Road in North Point—where Hong Kong's only funeral home, colloquially known as the Hong Kong Grand Hotel, was located—he brought his car to a stop. There, at the entrance, he spotted Ji Mao, waiting anxiously.

“What exactly happened?” Yan Xu rushed forward, grabbing Ji Mao by the collar. “How could this be?”

Just that morning, Yan Xu had spoken with Bald Qiang over the phone, discussing the release of Mansion No. 1, and had informed him that he had already received the remaining box office share from Taxi Judge. Who would have thought that in a single day, everything would change.

The screening of Taxi Judge had officially ended everywhere. This time, in addition to Hong Kong, Yan Xu directly received over seventeen million from Southeast Asian markets. With more than two million left in his account, his available funds had surpassed the twenty-million mark. Combined with his shares in two companies, his net worth was now among the top in the film industry.

“I’m not sure about the details,” Ji Mao replied, eyes brimming with tears. “I only know Big Brother was making his rounds when a drug addict showed up out of nowhere and attacked him. Big Brother punished him with a slap, but unexpectedly, that guy stabbed him. It was supposed to be a routine inspection—who could have foreseen this? By the time I got the news, Big Brother had already been brought here.” He pulled Yan Xu hurriedly into the funeral home.

“Where’s that guy? Was he caught?”

“Because Big Brother was just making rounds, he didn’t have many people with him. It all happened so fast—everyone was focused on getting him medical help, and the guy got away. Ghost Dong has already taken people to look for him.”

Outside the morgue in the Shoushan Hall on the first floor, a dozen or so men dressed as small-time gangsters were gathered. On a bench by the door, a woman wept silently in another woman’s embrace, while a boy of four or five sat wide-eyed, bewildered by his surroundings, clearly unaware of what had happened.

The crying woman was Bald Qiang’s wife; the little boy was his son. The woman comforting them was Ji Mao’s girlfriend.

“Sister-in-law…” Yan Xu stood before her, his voice trembling, utterly at a loss for words.

“Yan Xu, you’re here.” Her eyes were swollen and red, her voice barely coherent through her sobs.

“Sister-in-law, I’ll find out the truth. I won’t let Big Brother die in vain.”

Yan Xu clenched his fists tightly. Though he had left the organization, he had still been following the recent campaign for the gang leader position with interest. The film’s success in Japan had given Bald Qiang a powerful bargaining chip, increasing his chances to seventy percent. No one could have predicted this sudden turn.

Anyone with sense could see something was off—a drug addict, in their own territory, able to escape in front of so many witnesses? That was hardly something a mere addict could accomplish.

“There’s no need,” the woman shook her head.

“Since Qiang chose this path, he always knew this day would come. He was always cautious, but in the end, he couldn’t escape his fate.” Her eyes stared vacantly at the doors of Shoushan Hall.

“Out of all Qiang’s brothers, he valued you the most. He admired what you’ve achieved. Now that you’ve made something of yourself, he wouldn’t want you dragged back into this. You’ve already left the organization—let them handle what comes next. Besides, he’s gone. What difference would the truth make?”

“Sister-in-law…”

“Say no more. Go see Qiang. His funeral arrangements will need your help. As for all those messy affairs, we’re just a widow and an orphan—we want no part in them, only a little peace.” She pointed toward Shoushan Hall.

**************************

Yan Xu’s eyes were red-rimmed. He had hardly slept these past two days, spending every waking moment with Ji Mao arranging Bald Qiang’s funeral.

Bald Qiang’s sudden death left a considerable mess. Though his death ended his bid for the gang leader’s chair, his venues—the casino, karaoke bar, club, hotel—still needed management. But Yan Xu, no longer a member, could not step forward. Luckily, these operations had always been managed by Ji Mao and Ghost Dong, who now took over entirely, save for the funeral arrangements.

As for Hundred Battles Film Company, Yan Xu was left in charge. Fortunately, the company was well-organized and running smoothly. Even without supervision for a few days, nothing major would go wrong.

On the day of Bald Qiang’s funeral, the turnout was respectable. His status guaranteed the presence of the old guard and the various bosses from the society, as well as friendly leaders from other branches. Even business partners from Japan and Taiwan, who had dealings with Hundred Battles Film, sent representatives.

Of course, some less amicable factions sent people out of courtesy. Bald Qiang had always handled matters with harmony in mind; though there had been disputes between societies, he had made few enemies and left few grudges behind. Now that he was gone, old quarrels were set aside.

The funeral was anything but quiet—a procession of bosses arrived with their men, the display alone startling the onlookers. Nearly every notable society in Hong Kong sent someone to pay respects.

A sea of black-clad mourners filled the space before the funeral home, causing the Organized Crime Unit to heighten their vigilance. Uniformed police were noticeably more present, and unmarked cars circled the building—most of them, no doubt, surveillance units.

Because Bald Qiang was also the boss of Hundred Battles Film, there should have been many from the entertainment circle at his funeral. However, due to his other identity, few celebrities dared show their faces, sending assistants or company staff instead. Even so, the paparazzi swarmed, especially since Yan Xu, the popular star whose recent concert at the Coliseum had made headlines, presided over the ceremony.

Bald Qiang’s ashes were laid to rest at the Chinese Permanent Cemetery in Tseung Kwan O, nestled at Devil’s Peak in Hong Kong’s Sai Kung District. Most of the departed there were cremated, and the uphill walk was a tradition of the place.

“Sister-in-law, what are your plans now?” After descending the hill, as the others drifted away, Yan Xu stood beside her, gazing at her tearless face and the child at her side.

“Thanks to your film, Qiang earned several million this past year—enough for us to get by for a while. I plan to sell the house after Qiang’s seventh day and move to Canada. My aunt emigrated there years ago and recently wrote to say the environment and schools are much better than Hong Kong’s, and the cost of living is low. She wants us to join her.” She looked at Yan Xu, her mind already made up in these few days.

“Qiang and I always considered leaving after ’97—who knows what will happen here then. He thought living abroad would be expensive, so we planned to work a few more years and go together, but now…” Her voice broke, and she began to sob again.

“I’ll find a job once we’re settled. Even with relatives there, it’s not like Hong Kong—there will be many expenses. But I hear that as long as you’re willing to work, you can get by.”

“Sister-in-law, you needn’t worry about money. There’s over ten million in the company’s account—half of it belongs to Big Brother, at least seven or eight million. I’ll get it to you in a few days. Buy a few houses over there, and the rent alone will be enough for you and An to live comfortably for the rest of your lives.” The Southeast Asian profits had already reached Yan Xu’s account; Bald Qiang’s share remained on the company’s books.

“Is that alright? Qiang only received his dividends at the end of each quarter. He just took his last one not long ago.”

“It’s fine,” Yan Xu shook his head. “The company’s profits were earned during Big Brother’s lifetime—those are rightfully yours. No matter who takes over, no one can object. The organization hasn’t decided on the company’s future yet. Ji Mao and I are acting bosses; if we agree, there’ll be no trouble.”

Normally, with Bald Qiang’s passing, the company would only give a small settlement. But with Yan Xu and Ji Mao in charge, offering a share to Qiang’s widow was beyond question.

“Hello?” As he left the cemetery, the brick-sized mobile phone in Yan Xu's bag rang.

He had barely had a moment’s rest these days. With such upheaval at Hundred Battles, all ongoing productions had halted, crew members were uneasy, and people from the industry kept calling to learn what would happen next. Some companies even tried to recruit Yan Xu.

“Yan Xu, it’s me.” The voice on the other end was low and familiar.

“Dong, where the hell have you been? You didn’t even show up for Big Brother’s funeral!” Yan Xu cursed loudly when he heard Ghost Dong’s voice.

Since Bald Qiang’s incident, Yan Xu hadn’t seen Ghost Dong at all. Ji Mao had said he was out looking for Qiang’s killer, but even by the day of the funeral, there had been no word from him. (To be continued…)