Chapter Forty: Ignoring the Law or Becoming a Superhero

After the first time, there came a second and a third. With each attempt, Ah Jian’s methods grew ever more practiced, and he even prepared various kinds of equipment for his missions, dressing as if he were a superhero straight out of a comic book.

His repeated actions not only caught the attention of the city’s police but, owing to the string of taxi driver deaths, led to protests by taxi companies outside the police station. Yet for many citizens, Ah Jian became a hero, especially after victims he had aided spoke out before reporters, further fueling the media's portrayal of him as a superhuman vigilante. Ah Jian was completely enthralled by this narrative, believing himself the judge punishing evil taxi drivers, his methods growing more gruesome each time.

Watching these events unfold, some younger viewers remained engrossed in the thrill and gore, while older audiences began to reflect, moving from initial approval to deeper discussion and debate.

The true transformation came after the police sergeant was admitted to the hospital. Here, the plot diverged dramatically from the original. To conceal his identity, Ah Jian went to the hospital to silence the sergeant permanently, marking his complete shift—murdering the sergeant, kidnapping his daughter, Ah Min, leading up to a car chase, and finally, a collision that sent the vehicle crashing into a busy food stall. At this moment, Yan Xu changed the ending entirely: as Ah Jian was about to kill Detective Yu, flames from the stall ignited the cooking oil spilled during the crash, and Ah Jian was instantly engulfed, his screams echoing as he transformed into a charred corpse. The credits began to rise, accompanied by Snake Boy’s electric guitar and Taiji Band’s haunting song “Lost,” the uncertain melody mirroring the bewilderment of the theatergoers.

Though the credits rolled and the music played, the story did not end. Police cars and ambulances arrived, officers secured the scene, firefighters battled the blaze, journalists’ cameras flashed, and the crowd buzzed with speculation. Detective Yu was rushed for emergency treatment, and a stretcher emerged from the wreckage, carrying a smoldering, human-shaped lump of charcoal straight into an ambulance. The doors shut, and the camera, shooting from below, lingered on the corpse’s face. Just as the music faded, the corpse’s tightly shut eyes suddenly sprang open, plunging the screen into darkness. Heavy breathing filled the auditorium, leaving the audience in suspense.

Such shots would later become clichéd in Hollywood horror films, but at that time, everything felt novel, tightening the viewers' hearts with anticipation for what might follow.

The theater lights came on abruptly, and the audience began to rise, applause and whistles sweeping toward the cast and crew seated in the back rows—a fundamental affirmation of the film. Some remained seated, lost in thought, but gradually joined the applause.

“Director, we made it,” Wu Mengda said, his expression deeply moved, eyes reddened. Since his bankruptcy, he had seen the fickleness of human nature and had never lost composure like this. Hearing the thunderous applause and cheers, he knew they had succeeded; his luck had finally turned.

Vivian Chow clung tightly to Yan Xu’s arm, her first time experiencing such a scene. The applause immersed her entirely, her cheeks flushed, unable to hide her excitement.

Yan Xu looked at the crowd, feeling a quiet thrill himself. Observing their varied reactions, he knew this was only the beginning...

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

Lawless or superhero? As a venerable publication, The Star Island Daily used this headline to open its discussion of Yan Xu’s new film, devoting an entire page to an in-depth report on Taxi Judge, from its poster to its main storyline. Yet their focus was not the film’s spectacle, nor its eye-catching scenes, but a direct exploration of law and human nature.

“This is a tale of humanity and darkness. While our sympathy for Ah Jian’s plight is immense, and we admit the law is inadequate, with punishment for certain crimes far too lenient, many are lost, unsure what is truly right. If we stand in Ah Jian’s shoes, perhaps we would act even more explosively. Yet we firmly believe that violence begets violence, and that is wrong. In a society ruled by law, if everyone acted as Ah Jian did, chaos would ensue. Good and evil are but a thought apart; the so-called judge is merely a perspective. Some call him a judge, others a killer. Because all humans are selfish and cannot be utterly impartial. Even if someone could be entirely selfless, everyone’s standards differ...”

The Wen Wei Daily’s coverage of Taxi Judge was not as extensive, but rather than placing it in the entertainment section, featured it in current affairs. The report briefly introduced the film, but its main concern was the current state of the city’s taxi industry.

“Refusal to carry passengers, arbitrary fare hikes, even abandoning passengers—these behaviors occur daily. Nearly every regular taxi rider has encountered these issues. Watching the film is cathartic, but it prompts the question: What do we need? Must we truly have a Taxi Judge? The industry is increasingly chaotic, not only with declining professionalism but also gangs and even triads infiltrating. We call on the government to quickly issue regulatory policies, provide training for workers, and address the growing complexity of the taxi sector to safeguard citizens’ legal rights...”

The Hong Kong Economic Journal approached the matter from the film’s evolution, referencing the recent hot topic in the industry: the movie rating system. The introduction of ratings was considered the greatest reform in Hong Kong cinema, with bold black letters occupying a quarter of the page, commanding attention.

“Beyond protecting children and youth from potentially harmful films, the rating system also benefits mature audiences, granting adults access to movies depicting the realities of adult life. This is a secular society, not a society of saints. A vibrant, open society should accommodate the needs of ordinary people—this is the norm of a confident, mature culture. Whether horror, supernatural, erotic, or violent films, audiences now have more choices. This is a sign of the film industry’s maturity.”

“In 1896, film arrived in Hong Kong. In 1913, the first local production company, Chinese-American Film, was founded. In 1925, Hong Kong’s first feature film, Rouge, premiered. In 1934, the first sound film was made. In 1953, film censorship regulations were established. In 1984, the Hong Kong movie rating system was implemented. Yesterday, the city’s first Category III film was released. Directed by Yan Xu, Taxi Judge is replete with eye-catching gore, but the entire work directly indicts the chaos in the taxi industry—a rare, darkly satirical take on society’s ugliness. Here, the judge is a symbol of extreme irony: using naked violence to punish indirect violence, reminiscent of the chivalrous heroes in martial arts novels. Yet such a judge receives no legal support, ultimately becoming an anti-social figure. The film also critiques how law is not synonymous with humanity...”

ps: Thanks to 18377707194, Shi Yao for 100 Starting Point Coins, and Shanghai Old Wood Floor Recycling for 500 Starting Point Coins!