Back on the upper floor of Fu Yung Teahouse, uniformed colonial police officers shouted over the lingering clamor. Only when the frantic questioning began did Lam Siu Ming realize that the youth who had saved his life was nowhere to be seen.
He frowned, leaning on his polished cane. "Where did that boy disappear to?"
Lam Tsz Fai scratched his head, looking around the shattered floor in bewilderment. "He was right here a second ago... Where could he have gone?"
"Never mind," Lam Siu Ming murmured, waving a dismissive hand. "He took my name card. If he wants to collect on the favor, he will seek me out."
In truth, Chan Ka Nam had zero intention of cashing in on that colossal mix-up.
After darting through several winding alleys and leaving the raucous commotion far behind, he finally slowed his pace, panting heavily. Even so, he made no move to set down the passenger riding on his back.
Kiu Man tapped his shoulder gently. "Ka Nam, let me down. I can walk."
"No need," Chan Ka Nam rasped between breaths. "I will carry you. Walk two steps on your own and you will be wheezing for air again."
Kiu Man could not help but laugh, slipping down from his shoulders until his feet touched the pavement.
Under the dim streetlights, Chan Ka Nam looked him over with lingering suspicion. "Are you truly all right?"
Kiu Man held up his hands with a serene smile. "Truly fine."
Chan Ka Nam circled him once more, squinting closely. Satisfied that his friend was not about to collapse into dust, he let out a long, marveling sigh. "When I saw you this morning, you were barely hanging on by a thread. In less than a day, you look like a brand new person. It is downright uncanny."
"Before, my throat was shut tight and I could not swallow a bite," Kiu Man replied smoothly. "Once I woke up, drank water, and got some warm congee into my belly, my vigor naturally returned."
Chan Ka Nam nodded in earnest agreement. "That makes sense. I have never been one to fall sick since I was a child -- I just have an endless appetite. When I am starved, set a bowl of pig swill before me and I will clean it out."
Kiu Man was speechless. There was no need for such an unflattering comparison.
Remembering his disguise, Chan Ka Nam raised a hand, wiped it across his mouth, pinched the edge of his fake mustache, and ripped it off. The adhesive clung fast, pulling at his tender skin and forcing a sharp hiss of pain through his clenched teeth.
With the false whiskers gone, his youthful face was fully revealed. Only now did Kiu Man gain a clear impression of what the boy actually looked like. The original novel had never offered a detailed description of Chan Ka Nam's features, noting only that he was remarkably attractive -- hence his street moniker, Handsome Nam.
Seeing him unmasked, Kiu Man felt a flicker of genuine surprise.
He had assumed that a ruthless street boss who lived by the blade -- even if handsome -- would naturally have a fierce and rugged look. Instead, Chan Ka Nam’s bone structure was striking and noble. Paired with his pressed collared shirt, he carried the effortless bearing of an aristocratic young gentleman.
Yet Kiu Man’s quiet appreciation had barely lasted two seconds before the refined illusion shattered completely under a foul northern curse.
"Damn it all! What kind of cheap glue is this dog shit?!"
Though Chan Ka Nam had grown up in Hong Kong, his father was originally from Beijing and Tianjin, having drifted south to Hong Kong in the chaos of wartime. The household still retained northern habits, and Chan Ka Nam would slip into coarse northern street slang whenever his temper flared.
The Walled City -- and indeed all of Hong Kong -- was an eclectic melting pot of migrants. Immigrants from Shanghai gathered to speak Shanghainese, settlers from southern Fujian spoke Minnanese, and the sharp cadence of Chiu Chow rang out on every street corner. As for the original young Kiu Man, he had grown up immersed in his grandmother’s soft Wu dialect, speaking with a gentle, melodic lilt.
Kiu Man swallowed back his praise of the boy's refined looks and shifted the subject. "That man in the teahouse was a real hitman, was he not? Even if you broke a few tables, you saved that merchant's life. It was a noble deed. Why claim you brought down trouble? Do you recognize that killer? Are you worried he will hunt you down?"
Chan Ka Nam shook his head vigorously. "I do not know him."
"Then there is nothing to fear," Kiu Man reasoned calmly. "You were disguised today; I doubt he could pick you out from a crowd tomorrow. Saving an innocent life is always a good thing."
"I..." Chan Ka Nam scratched his neck, tongue-tied. He truly did not know the assassin, but Master Leopard definitely did.
Catching his guilty hesitation, Kiu Man prodded, "Brother Nam, are you hiding something from me?"
Chan Ka Nam wrapped an arm around Kiu Man's frail shoulders, shaking his head with an exaggerated laugh. "Of course not! How could I hide anything from those sharp eyes of yours?"
Though Kiu Man was thin and frail, his heritage had gifted him decent height. Even so, he remained half a head shorter than Chan Ka Nam. While Chan Ka Nam still carried the lean frame of a nineteen-year-old youth, his northern lineage gave him broad shoulders and dense bone. Tucked beneath his arm, Kiu Man felt as if he were strikingly small.
Terrified that his hit contract would be exposed, Chan Ka Nam reached out and patted Kiu Man's cheek, hastily changing the subject. "Why is your face so cold? You just climbed out of a sickbed, and the night air is chilly. Do not catch a draft -- let me give you my overshirt."
Accustomed to the predecessor's memories, Kiu Man felt entirely natural beneath the touch. The warm palm, lined with faint street-fighting calluses, felt comforting against his cheek.
He shook his head. "It is May. The night breeze is refreshing, not cold."
Hearing this, Chan Ka Nam did not remove his shirt, choosing instead to wrap his arm tighter around Kiu Man's shoulders. "You have always feared the cold and loved the warmth. Let me shield you from the draft so you do not catch another fever."
The young man's body radiated heat like a furnace. Kiu Man felt rather warm under the embrace and remarked wryly, "It is roasting."
Because his lungs were still recovering, his soft protest carried an unintentionally spoiled tone.
Chan Ka Nam kept his arm firmly in place, grinning. "Why do I not feel hot at all?"
Bickering in low, warm voices, the two youths walked shoulder to shoulder toward the dark mouth of the enclave. Behind them, the glittering neon skyline of the metropolis faded into a distant mirage. Stepping past the outer perimeter was like crossing an invisible boundary between two separate realms: behind lay a thriving empire of wealth; before them stretched the squalid abyss of the slums.
Another power outage had plunged the enclave into gloom. Barely a sliver of pale moonlight filtered down through the dense web of illicit overhead wiring. Half a dozen bloated rats scuttled openly across the wet alley stones, squeaking aggressively without the slightest fear of human presence.
Kiu Man felt a wave of disgust, yet remained calm. Having explored the darkest corners of the wilderness in his past life, mere vermin could not rattle him.
Chan Ka Nam, however, stepped forward protectively, stomping his heavy boot against the stones to scatter the creatures while steering Kiu Man along the dry patches of the alley.
Watching the fierce care in his movements, Kiu Man thought of Lin Nan once more. Ever since childhood, whenever peril loomed, Lin Nan had always stepped between him and danger.
One took such devotion for granted in youth, only recognizing its irreplaceable value once it was lost forever.
The original Kiu Man of this world had suffered a tragic, short life, yet he was extraordinarily fortunate to have met Chan Ka Nam -- a loyal protector who guarded him like a true brother through the grim darkness of the Walled City.
Had the youth not died so young, the Chan Ka Nam of the original novel would likely never have walked that irreversible path of blood and ruin. Now that Kiu Man had taken over this frail vessel, no matter what fortune he built in this life, he would pull Chan Ka Nam back into the light.
The two lived inside a rickety eight-story tenement building: Kiu Man on the second floor, and Chan Ka Nam directly above on the third.
Before they reached the doorway, Chan Ka Nam shouted toward the hall, "Granny, we are back!"
The door swung inward immediately. An elderly woman leaned out, a tender smile warming her lined face. "You are finally back. Ah Ho told me Ah Man was feeling better and went out for fresh air. I was sick with worry that he might faint in the street. Seeing you return together sets my heart at ease."
Chan Ka Nam puffed out his chest. "See? With me around, nothing could ever happen to our Ah Man."
Grandma Kiu smiled warmly. "I brewed a pot of nourishing soup. Ka Nam, come in and have a bowl before heading upstairs."
Chan Ka Nam patted his belly. "I just feasted on evening dim sum with Little Kiu -- my stomach is bursting. Leave the portion to Little Kiu. I am heading up. Call for me if you need anything."
Kiu Man watched him take the concrete stairs two at a time before stepping into the modest flat.
By the warm flicker of a kerosene candle, Grandma Kiu looked him up and down with deep concern. "Are you truly all right, child? Ka Nam said you were receiving intensive care at Uncle Wah's clinic and could not be exposed to the wind. These past few days nearly worried me to death."
Kiu Man examined the granny. She wore a faded indigo cheongsam made of coarse linen, simple black embroidered cloth slippers, and a hair knot pinned neatly with a carved bamboo hairpin. Despite the threadbare poverty and the deep lines carved by hardship into her weathered face, she carried the unmistakable grace of an aristocratic lady from the Republican era.
An instinctive filial warmth rose from Kiu Man's chest. Supporting the elder’s arm, he entered the room. "Granny, I am completely fine."
A sudden wave of exhaustion struck him as the words left his mouth, forcing a faint gasp from his chest.
Grandma Kiu helped him down onto a frayed cloth sofa. "Sit down and catch your breath. Ah Ho brought your herbal medicine back from Uncle Wah -- it is keeping warm over the charcoal stove. Drink the medicine first, then finish the soup."
"Thank you, Granny," Kiu Man murmured softly.
Grandma Kiu chuckled softly. "Why are you being so polite with your own grandmother?"
Looking at the bowl of dark, pungent brew handed to him, Kiu Man tilted his chin and swallowed it down without hesitation. The moment he set the empty bowl down, Grandma Kiu popped a piece of golden malt candy into his mouth.
The soothing sweetness instantly banished the bitter aftertaste.
He looked up, meeting her gaze with a bright, genuine smile.
Seeing that rare smile, Grandma Kiu’s eyes crinkled with profound joy. "That is better. You should smile more, child. Wearing a mournful face every day only saps your spirit."
Kiu Man watched her silently. Born into wealth and refinement, she was stripped of everything by war. She lost her husband, son and daughter-in-law in rapid succession, yet still managed to raise her chronically ill grandson alone in the squalor of the slums. This old lady possessed incredible inner strength.
Chewing the malt candy, Kiu Man finished a small bowl of snow fungus soup, set the porcelain down with care, and spoke gently. "Granny, once I am fully recovered, I will find a reputable job. As soon as we save enough money, we will move out of the Walled City and rent an apartment outside. You will not have to sell dried foodstuffs at the street stall anymore."
Grandma Kiu gazed at him with tender affection. "Granny does not care about riches, child. As long as your body stays healthy, I am content."
Kiu Man did not press the matter further, nodding softly. "Go get some rest, Granny. Do not fret over me."
"Good. Ah Ho hauled two fresh buckets of well water today, and I boiled a pot for you. Wash up and sleep early. Call me if you feel dizzy."
"I will."
Running tap water was an impossible luxury in the Kowloon Walled City during this era. The entire enclave relied on eight public standpipes and hand-dug wells, requiring residents to haul buckets daily. With only an elderly woman and a frail youth in the household, Chan Ka Nam and Ah Ho had shouldered all the water-hauling duties for years.
Unsurprisingly, the flat lacked modern amenities like water heaters or flush toilets. The bathing area was set on a cramped balcony of barely two square meters, which doubled as the kitchen.
Fortunately, Kiu Man’s extensive wilderness expeditions had cured him of fastidiousness.
Having languished in Uncle Wah's clinic for days while pumped full of bitter herbs, his body carried a stale, medicinal stench.
Stripping off his damp clothes, Kiu Man noticed a dark purple bruise blooming across his hip where he had struck the wooden table earlier. The skin burned at the slightest touch. What an absurdly fragile vessel.
With a resigned sigh, he washed himself thoroughly with hot water. The cleansing heat washed away the grime, though the simple exertion left him completely drained.
Stepping back into the main room, he found the flat quiet; Grandma Kiu was already asleep behind the curtain.
Kiu Man sat on the edge of his narrow wooden cot, snuffed out the candle flame, and dried his damp hair under the faint moonlight filtering through the small window.
The entire flat was barely ten square meters, partitioned by a thin wooden divider: Grandma Kiu slept in the inner room, while he slept in the outer space that doubled as their living and dining quarters. Aside from his cot, the room held only the frayed sofa, a tiny low table, a wooden cupboard, a floor fan, and an old transistor radio.
Yet despite the cramped quarters, the space was scrubbed spotless, reflecting the enduring dignity of its occupants.
His short hair dried quickly under the spinning blades of the electric fan.
Collapsing back onto the cot, he inhaled the clean, sun-dried scent of the cotton quilt.
Having lain in bed for days, sleep eluded him. Folding his arms behind his head, he stared out at the pale square of moonlight framing the window frame.
His thoughts drifted toward Lin Nan. Had his friend crossed over into another world as well? Was he living comfortably?
He is probably doing splendidly, Kiu Man mused with a faint smile. A man like Lin Nan shines brilliantly wherever he goes.
As his consciousness drifted, a sudden dark shape scaled the outside brickwork, perching across the moonlit sill like an enormous bat and blocking what little light remained.
Kiu Man jolted upright in shock. Have the rats in this slum grown wings? Or has a bat mutated into human size?
Before he could grab a shoe to defend himself, the "giant bat" poked a messy head through the window and whispered in a conspiratorial rasp:
"Little Kiu... are you asleep?"
It was not an overgrown bat at all. It was Chan Ka Nam.