No, that couldn’t be right, Ye Jingsheng thought. Fang Yang treated that watch like a treasure. There was no way he would let it be destroyed along with someone like me.

Could it have been someone who wanted to destroy the watch instead?

His expression darkened with growing suspicion.

Wu Yi Xue pulled off his blood-stained disposable gloves and tossed them into the trash. Looking at Ye Jingsheng, pale and lying with his eyes shut, he scolded, “You’re out of your mind! Running all over Hong Kong with an injury, and the bullet still lodged in your leg. Do you even know how many times that wound has ruptured? Your leg is full of pus and blood, and the pants were almost impossible to cut off. A little later, and you’d be crippled!”

Ye Jingsheng breathed shallowly, his body burning with fever and his throat swollen painfully from the inflammation. Yet, his tone remained lazy. “The bullet… I tried digging it out. Couldn’t do it.”

Wu Yi Xue nearly gagged. This guy was insane. Without enough anesthetic, he had actually sat there and watched while they cut into his rotting flesh with a scalpel, not even letting out a groan. What kind of monster was this? Wu Yi Xue glared at him and said, “With such crude equipment, I can’t promise that removing the bullet won’t cause infection or complications.”

“I know. Whatever happens, I won’t blame you,” Ye Jingsheng said as he opened his eyes. “But can you help me find someone?”

Wu Yi Xue stepped back in alarm. “I’m just a doctor. Don’t drag me into your mess. I have a wife and kids!”

Ye Jingsheng smirked faintly, his eyes narrowing slyly as he glanced at him.

Outside the window, the chaotic glow of neon lights pulsed and flickered, casting erratic shadows against the walls. The decrepit, cramped apartment was alive with the sounds of the streets below. Rowdy voices shouted over one another, bawdy jokes rang out from those soliciting customers, and the faint strains of an old, garish Cantonese song drifted through the humid night air.

This was Temple Street, the grimiest and most unruly corner of the city. A chaotic maze of narrow alleys and endless movement, it served as a melting pot for people from every walk of life. The tangled web of gang influences created an atmosphere of constant tension, a place where danger and safety coexisted in fragile balance. It was precisely within this unpredictable mess of power struggles and conflicting interests that Ye Jingsheng had managed to stay hidden for so long.

A single leaf remains safe only when hidden within the vastness of the forest.

To the world, Ye Jingsheng was nothing more than a small-time thug, a forgettable figure on the fringes of society. If he were to vanish one day, it would barely register as a passing thought to anyone.

“Ah Sheng!” Xiao Jie burst into the room, his voice filled with panic. He dropped the bag he was carrying and rushed to Ye Jingsheng’s side. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he shook him roughly. “Who the hell did you piss off this time?”

Ye Jingsheng smiled faintly and patted his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “My leg’s still injured. Do you think I can handle your roughhousing?” Xiao Jie immediately stepped back, his eyes widening as he noticed the white gauze on Ye Jingsheng’s leg was already soaked through with blood.

“Why so late?” Ye Jingsheng asked, leaning back slightly. “Did you bring the stuff I asked for?”

Xiao Jie pouted and tossed the bag toward him. “That friend of yours? He came into my shop, blushed like crazy for half an hour, and couldn’t get a single sentence out without stammering. Do I look that scary?”

Ye Jingsheng opened the paper bag. “He’s an honest man.”

“Honest? What, am I not? Bullshit! This world’s full of hypocritical bastards!”

“That’s all?” Ye Jingsheng frowned as he dumped the contents of the bag onto the table.

“You think this stuff is easy to get? Those bullets for your gun have to be custom-ordered from the manufacturer. Even on the black market, this is all I could find!” Xiao Jie punched him lightly on the shoulder, but his fist slowed midway, as if hesitant. “Who the hell did you piss off this time?”

Ye Jingsheng didn’t answer. For a brief moment, Fang Yang’s face flashed in his mind, only to vanish just as quickly.

“I got word and was ready to arrange for you to leave by boat, maybe hide in Macau for a while. But they’ve sealed off all the smuggling routes. No matter how much money I offered, no one dared to set sail. Ah Sheng, do you really think you can get lucky again like last time?”

For a long moment, Ye Jingsheng said nothing. Then, a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “I never thought surviving last time had anything to do with luck.”

Xiao Jie’s expression darkened, and his voice dropped. “Ah Sheng, maybe you shouldn’t have come back to Hong Kong.”

Ye Jingsheng’s expression shifted, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he slipped back into his usual devil-may-care attitude. Leaning over, he bit Xiao Jie lightly on the cheek, his tone teasing. “How could I ever bear to leave you behind?”

Before Xiao Jie could respond, a knock sounded at the door. A woman’s voice, carrying a subtle Filipino accent, called out, “Sir, please open the door. Delivery.”

Ye Jingsheng and Xiao Jie exchanged a quick glance, the tension between them thickening. Xiao Jie shook his head slowly, signaling his unease. Ye Jingsheng pulled out his Swiss army knife and moved silently to stand behind the door. At a time like this, using a gun was too risky. He couldn’t afford to let even the faintest sound betray his presence.

“I didn’t order delivery.”

“Oh, but Mr. Wu ordered ‘char siu rice’ to be delivered to you,” the voice replied, her Cantonese heavily accented and barely understandable.

Ye Jingsheng let out a sigh of relief and casually slipped the knife back into his pocket. Wu Yi Xue really was something… That said, he couldn’t deny the truth—he hadn’t eaten all day.

When he opened the door, he came face-to-face with a woman in her thirties. She had the typical features of someone from Southeast Asia: dark skin, a slightly rounded face, and an air of modest simplicity. Her messy black hair framed her face, and the plain uniform of a “cha chaan teng” diner added to her unassuming presence. The uniform bore two greasy characters that stood out prominently: Ding Ji.

“How much?” Ye Jingsheng leaned casually against the doorframe, his sharp eyes scanning her from head to toe, though he kept his stance firm, not letting her step inside.

“Nineteen bucks, with a soda.”

Ye Jingsheng nodded, took the plastic bag, and called back, “Jie, got some change—”

“Ah Sheng!” Xiao Jie’s scream tore through the room, raw and panicked. Almost simultaneously, Ye Jingsheng reacted on pure instinct, raising his arm to block as he spun back against the wall. A sharp pain tore through him as blood gushed from a deep, 20-centimeter gash on his arm. The woman remained eerily calm, her face expressionless, the machete in her hand gleaming under the dim light.

Fuck! Ye Jingsheng froze for a split second, his mind racing. They had found this hideout too?

His injured leg, Xiao Jie, the watch… and now his life.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the fresh blood quickly soaking through the bandages on his swollen thigh. Across the room, Xiao Jie, no stranger to moments like this, grabbed the handgun off the bed and pointed it at the woman with steady hands. “Don’t move!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding.

Ye Jingsheng shouted hoarsely, “Fuck, Hua Xiao Jie! Don’t mess with her. How many lives do you think you have? Get out of here now!”

The woman’s gaze remained cold and detached as she extended her hand. “Give me the watch.”

Ye Jingsheng clenched his teeth, his brow furrowing deeply. “If I give you the watch, will you let us go?”

She paused for a moment, then smiled faintly. “OK. I’m only here for the money. I have no personal grudge against you. Just give me the watch.”

His hand trembled as he reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out the watch. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, and she stepped forward eagerly. But in a split second, Ye Jingsheng yanked his hand back and twisted her wrist in a precise joint lock. The machete slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he pinned her down, driving his Swiss knife into her abdomen with a forceful motion.

Blood gushed out in a crimson torrent, staining the floor as the woman writhed in agony, her struggles growing weaker by the second. Panting heavily, Ye Jingsheng released her and staggered to his feet, his cold, steely gaze fixed on her. His voice was low and chilling. “Who wants me dead?”

The woman gritted her teeth, her breathing labored, but instead of answering, a faint, mocking smile curved her lips. “You won’t make it out of Hong Kong.”

“Ah Sheng! Kill her!” Xiao Jie shouted in panic, rushing over and grabbing his arm.

Ye Jingsheng froze for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing as he weighed his options. Then, his decision made, he pulled Xiao Jie toward the door without a word. “No time.”