Chan Ka Nam pushed the paper order slip across the table. "Little Kiu, what do you feel like eating? How about some shrimp dumplings?"
Kiu Man pulled his gaze back from Lam Tsz Fai. Knowing that Chan Ka Nam was intimately familiar with the original youth’s tastes, he nodded gently. "Sure. You decide."
The sudden panic that had gripped Chan Ka Nam upon seeing Kiu Man had completely dissolved into ecstatic relief. Now that he was certain his sworn brother was on the mend, the original purpose of tonight's errand had lost all importance.
To save Kiu Man, slaughtering a man was no more consequential than butchering a chicken. But with Kiu Man standing right before his eyes, murder and bloodshed were suddenly out of the question. As for how to explain the failure to Master Leopard, Chan Ka Nam could not care less. He was merely a bottom-tier Four-Nine Boy -- pulling off a hit was an exceptional feat, but botching it was only to be expected.
Once he reasoned it through, Chan Ka Nam's mind cleared completely.
Kiu Man had not kept food down for days. Though Chan Ka Nam could not fathom how his health had miraculously rebounded, seeing him eager to eat meant he needed proper nourishment. Without even glancing at the prices, Chan Ka Nam ticked off nearly ten of the teahouse's finest, most expensive dim sum dishes, fully prepared to feast alongside his friend.
"Have some tea first, gentlemen. Your orders will be right out," Lam Tsz Fai said politely, scribbling down the items. Just as he turned to carry the slip to the kitchen, his eyes caught the top of the stairwell. A look of delighted surprise broke across his youthful face, and he called out, "Dad!"
With an eager stride, the boy hurried over to welcome the new arrivals.
Kiu Man turned his head slightly to observe the commotion. Ascending the stairs was a middle-aged gentleman leaning on a polished walking cane, dressed in a traditional silk Tang suit. Treading closely behind him was a burly bodyguard clad in a sharp black suit.
This was Lam Siu Ming -- Lam Tsz Fai's biological father, the very man who was meant to die under Chan Ka Nam's blade tonight.
Kiu Man cast only a brief glance before sliding his eyes back across the table.
Noticing Kiu Man’s gaze, Chan Ka Nam subtly withdrew his right hand from his waistband. Resting there was the concealed dagger meant for tonight's murder; seeing Lam Siu Ming appear had triggered his instinct to reach for the hilt.
Though Kiu Man’s eyes had only grazed his fingers, Chan Ka Nam felt a pang of guilt. Sheepishly rubbing his nose, he quickly picked up the porcelain teapot and topped off Kiu Man's cup with attentive care. "Little Kiu, you still look exhausted. Once we finish eating, I will take you straight home."
Kiu Man raised his cup, taking a slow, calming sip. "Mm."
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Lam Tsz Fai lead his father toward one of the private dining rooms, laughing and chatting in high spirits.
At this stage in the narrative, despite the stigma of being an illegitimate son, Lam Tsz Fai lived a pampered, sheltered life under his father's generous provisions -- a simple, happy youth that stood in stark contrast to the grueling survival of slum children like Chan Ka Nam.
As long as his father survived, Lam Tsz Fai would remain sheltered. And Chan Ka Nam would never incur a blood debt that would ruin his life.
Before long, the dishes arrived. Steaming bamboo baskets were stacked high across the table: translucent crystal shrimp dumplings, honey-glazed barbecue pork buns, delicate pork and shrimp siu mai, braised chicken feet steeped in fermented black bean sauce, curried honeycomb tripe, and two piping-hot bowls of tender sliced beef congee.
Kiu Man suspected that this frail vessel had not tasted a truly full meal in all its eighteen years; ever since waking in the Walled City clinic, an insatiable hunger had gnawed at his core.
The spread of authentic Cantonese dim sum proved irresistible. Without waiting for Chan Ka Nam to prompt him, Kiu Man picked up his chopsticks and began to eat.
After a few bites, he realized the young man across from him was sitting completely motionless, watching him with an intense, unblinking stare.
Kiu Man glanced up with mild amusement. "Brother Nam, why aren't you eating?"
Chan Ka Nam snapped out of his daze and let out an exaggerated sigh. "On regular days, coaxing two extra mouthfuls of rice into you is harder than moving mountains. Over the past few days, you could not even swallow a drop of water -- I genuinely thought you were leaving me. Seeing you eat with such appetite right now... I cannot even begin to tell you how relieved I am."
"I don't know why, but I have been ravenous all day," Kiu Man remarked with an easy laugh. Picking up a plump shrimp dumpling with his chopsticks, he set it onto Chan Ka Nam’s plate. "Eat up, Brother Nam."
A broad grin split Chan Ka Nam's face, and he nodded eagerly. "Having an appetite is a blessing! What terrified me was you never feeling hungry."
The past few days had worn him to the bone, plagued by the constant terror that Kiu Man would stop breathing the moment he closed his eyes. Seeing his friend sitting upright, eating heartily and returning to life, filled Chan Ka Nam with such profound joy that the assassination contract vanished entirely from his mind. He lowered his head and set to work polishing off the food alongside him.
Kiu Man, however, remained vigilant beneath his relaxed demeanor.
For one thing, he was an outsider newly arrived in this world, carrying a natural curiosity toward every detail of this era. For another, tonight marked a monumental turning point in the original novel's timeline.
Even though Chan Ka Nam's murderous mission had been derailed by his intervention, an intuitive unease warned him that the evening would not conclude so smoothly.
He quietly observed the youth across the table, whose head was buried over a bowl of congee.
Chan Ka Nam was reckless, impulsive, and lacked formal schooling -- by all standard metrics, a classic street punk. Yet to the original youth, he was the absolute rock upon which survival depended.
Having absorbed the predecessor's memories, Kiu Man felt an instinctive, natural warmth toward this fierce protector.
He resolved firmly in his heart: no matter what trials lay ahead, he would never let this boy walk the path toward self-destruction again.
As his thoughts drifted, his peripheral vision caught sight of a patron seated in a nearby booth. Because his focus had been glued to Chan Ka Nam from the moment he entered the teahouse, he had paid little attention to the other diners. Had his adventurous instincts not prompted him to survey the room, he might have missed this man entirely.
The man had dark bronze skin, sharp, calculating eyes, and heavily corded arms, bearing the unmistakable features of someone from Southeast Asia. He sat alone at a table, methodically sipping his tea, looking for all the world as though he were merely passing the time.
Superficially, there was nothing suspicious about him. Yet Kiu Man’s sharp survival instincts detected a faint, lingering metallic chill radiating from the man’s frame -- the indelible aura of someone who had crawled out from piles of corpses and seas of blood.
Kiu Man calculated the timeline. In 1972, global tensions ran high, and Southeast Asia was still ravaged by the fires of the Vietnam War. This man had almost certainly seen action on those brutal battlefields.
Careful not to alert his target, Kiu Man did not stare openly, tracking him only through the corner of his eye.
Just as Lam Tsz Fai stepped out of the private dining room with a tray in hand, the lone diner lifted his head. His gaze locked onto the boy with the cold, lethal precision of a hunting falcon.
It was never the idle glance of a casual patron.
Kiu Man’s heart seized. A chilling realization struck him like lightning.