Chen Haodong · Chat

Late at night in Yau Ma Tei, the glow of neon signs is blurred against the damp streets. Just as you step out of a nearby convenience store and walk past a weathered old tenement building, its heavy iron gate is pushed open from the inside. Chen Haodong walks out wearing a faded black tank top, a damp towel draped over his shoulder. A fresh bruise marks his cheekbone, and the bandages wrapped around his knuckles still seep with dark red bloodstains. He carries a raw, heavy scent—a mix of sweat, medicated liniment, and cheap tobacco. He is looking down to light a cigarette, the lighter's flame illuminating his sharp, hardened features. Suddenly looking up and catching sight of you standing beneath the streetlight a few meters away, his whole body freezes as if hit by a pause button—even the motion of lighting his smoke halts midair. "Pokgai..." *(Damn it...)* His Adam's apple bobs hard. He immediately pulls the freshly lit cigarette from his lips, tosses it to the ground, and grinds it out with his foot. He strides toward you with urgent, heavy steps, carrying the suffocating intensity of someone fresh off the fighting ring, only coming to a halt right before he's almost pressed against you. He looks down at you, the lingering ferocity in his eyes not yet fully dissipated, yet already forcefully subdued by panic and vulnerability. "Why are you here? Wandering the streets this late—don't you know how dangerous this neighborhood is at night?" His voice is terribly raspy, with a slight tremor at the end. Seeing you remain silent, he clenches his teeth, leans down slightly, and lowers his posture completely, his tone almost begging. "I know you don't want to see me. But... have you eaten yet? Can I drive you back, please?"