The walk back was a blur of noise and pain. The adrenaline that had turned the world sharp and slow-motion inside the karaoke bar had evaporated, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness and a throbbing in his shoulder that beat in time with his heart. Every shout from a market vendor, every blare of a car horn, felt like a physical assault. Lok, meanwhile, floated beside him, riding a wave of exhilaration.
"Did you see his face? When you broke that bottle? I thought that guy was gonna piss himself!" Lok chattered, replaying the fight blow-by-blow, his hands carving through the humid air. "And you told him! 'Tell Mad Dog Kwok the Wo Shing has a new dog catcher!' Aiyah, Jin, that was classic! They're gonna be talking about this for weeks!"
Kai grunted in response, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The envelope in his inner jacket pocket felt like a lead weight. It was no longer just paper and money; it was evidence. It was the tangible proof of his first official act of extortion. He could feel the bulk of it against his chest with every step, a constant, accusing pressure.
They ended up back at the familiar, grimy tong lau in Yau Ma Tei. The climb up the stairs was a special kind of torture, each step sending a jolt through his battered body. When they finally stumbled into the single room, Lok immediately went to the small fridge and pulled out two cheap beers, popping the caps with a triumphant hiss.
"To us!" he said, thrusting one into Kai's good hand. "To the new dog catcher!"
Kai took the bottle. The beer was lukewarm and bitter. He drank it anyway, the liquid doing nothing to wash away the sour taste in his mouth. He sat heavily on the edge of his bunk, the springs groaning in protest.
"Come on, let's see it!" Lok said, his eyes gleaming. "Count it."
With a slow, deliberate movement, Kai pulled the envelope from his pocket. It was thick, stuffed with crumpled bills of various denominations. He dumped the contents onto the thin mattress between them. The money formed a sad, messy pile. It smelled of stale smoke and desperation.
Lok lunged forward and began counting with the practiced speed of a street hustler, licking his thumb and flicking through the notes. "Five hundred... a thousand... twenty-two hundred... thirty-five..." His voice was a rapid, excited whisper. He finished the count and looked up, his eyes wide. "Six thousand four hundred."
Silence hung in the room, thick and heavy. They had been tasked with collecting five thousand. After covering the two-thousand-dollar debt for the man Kai had saved, their cut was supposed to be anything over five. They were looking at fourteen hundred dollars clear profit. For Lok, it was a fortune. For Kai, it was a bribe.
"See?" Lok whispered, scooping up the money and dividing it with frantic, joyful movements. "See what happens when you have backbone? This is more than I make in a month running messages!" He shoved a stack of bills towards Kai. "Here. Your share. Seven hundred. We're rich!"
Kai looked at the money. It was more than his weekly take-home pay as a police officer. He thought about the terrified look in Mr. Cheung's eyes, the way the man had probably scraped that together from the rent money, from his daughter's school fees. He picked up the stack. The notes felt greasy.
"We need to give this to Sai Lo," Kai said, his voice flat.
"Of course, of course!" Lok said, already planning. "But we give him the five. He doesn't need to know about the extra. This is our win, brother! Our brains, our muscle. This is ours."
Kai didn't argue. He just nodded, stuffing the money into his pocket. The weight was now distributed, but it felt heavier than ever.
An hour later, they were back in the familiar, sawdust-strewn gloom of the Red Lotus Mahjong Parlour. Sai Lo was where he always seemed to be, a monolithic presence by the back room door. He watched them approach, his expression unreadable.
"The Golden Sun," Lok announced, his voice still buzzing as he handed over the thick envelope containing five thousand dollars. "Paid in full."
Sai Lo took the envelope, not even bothering to count it. His eyes, small and sharp in his broad face, were fixed on Kai. "I heard you had visitors. From the 18K."
Lok launched into the story again, his version even more embellished, painting Kai as an unstoppable force of nature.
Sai Lo listened, his gaze never leaving Kai. When Lok finished, he grunted. "Fu's arm is broken. The other one will need surgery on his knee." He took a step forward, looming over them. The smell of cheap cigars and sweat was overwhelming. "Mad Dog Kwok is not a man who forgets a humiliation. You've painted a target on your back, little man."
"I was protecting Wo Shing territory and Wo Shing money," Kai said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "The target is on the society's back. I just made sure they saw it."
A slow, grim smile spread across Sai Lo's face. It wasn't a friendly expression. It was the look a master gives a well-trained attack dog. "Good. A dog that doesn't bite is useless." He reached out and clapped Kai on his injured shoulder.
The pain was instant and blinding. Kai saw white spots dance in his vision, but he didn't cry out. He locked his knees, swallowed the gasp, and stood his ground, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth would crack.
Sai Lo's smile widened. He leaned in close, his voice a low rumble meant only for Kai. "Mister Wong wants to see you. Tomorrow. Alone. Don't be late."
He turned and disappeared into the back room, leaving Kai standing there, swimming in a sea of pain and a new, cold kind of dread. The money in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole through his jeans. He had passed one test, only to be handed a far more difficult one. The White Paper Fan was waiting.