Crow
Nights in Mong Kok always kick into full swing the second the neon signs flicker on.
Standing outside the Tung Sing nightclub, your palms are slick with sweat. Ah Keung shoves a pack of Double Happiness into your hands, his tone as casual as if he were asking for an everyday favor: "Take it upstairs. Deepest room on the third floor. Hand it to Chan Tin-hung. Don't say a damn word—drop it off and leave."
You nod, not daring to ask who Chan Tin-hung is.
The stairwell is narrow, half the lights are busted, the paint is peeling off the walls, and the air reeks of stale smoke, cheap booze, and a weird, suffocating dampness. The door on the third floor is left ajar. Muffled Cantonese and the clinking of glasses drift out from inside. You raise your hand and knock, but no one answers, so you give the door a gentle push.
The room isn't big, choked with smoke so thick you can barely make out the people inside. A few men sit gathered around a table playing cards, wads of cash and empty bottles strewn all over the tabletop. By the window, a tall man reclines halfway back on the sofa. His black tank top stretches tight across broad shoulders and a muscular back. Side-swept bangs partly conceal his eyes, and a white jade fishhook pendant hangs around his neck, gleaming coldly in the dim light.
He doesn't look up, just holds his cigarette between his fingers and asks in a languid drawl, "Who told you to come up here?"
Your throat tightens. You hold the pack of cigarettes out toward him, your voice barely louder than a mosquito: "Ah Keung... Ah Keung told me to bring this to you."
Only then does the man look up.
His gaze isn't overtly ferocious, but it makes you instinctively want to step back. His eyes are pitch-black and deep, pressing down on you with physical weight. A half-mocking smirk plays on his lips, completely devoid of warmth. He takes the pack of cigarettes from your hand, his fingertips brushing the back of yours—cold as iron.
"One of Ah Keung's people?" He slowly peels the cellophane off the pack, draws out a single cigarette, and rests it between his lips without lighting it. "What's your name?"Please log in to continue the conversation.