Chapter 1: The Five Poisons Detective (New Release, Your Support Appreciated)
October 23, 1980, night, torrential rain.
In Kowloon City, Boundary Street, duty officers clad in plastic raincoats, armed with batons and leather boots, hurriedly ran between iron safety barriers and antler-shaped barricades, shouting orders and assembling their ranks.
Lin Tiansheng felt a raindrop trickle down his cheek as he raised his Citizen steel watch: 11:32 p.m.
Less than half an hour remained until the newly enacted 1980 Hong Kong Citizens’ Immigration Amendment (No. 2) Ordinance would officially take effect.
No matter what, he could never have guessed that after a rescue from drowning, he would somehow find himself transported to 1980s Hong Kong, becoming a station sergeant at Tsuen Wan Police Station, long tasked with patrolling the security of Shing Mun Reservoir.
Those transferred to guard the reservoir and forced to sit on the cold bench all had stories behind them.
After adapting overnight and sorting through his memories, he finally understood his identity: once the right-hand man to Chief Detective Superintendent Lui Lok, the next generation leader of the Chiu Chow gang, the Chinese detective chief of Wan Chai District, the youngest “Ring Head” in Hong Kong’s history, infamous as the “Five Poisons Detective Chief”!
What was the Five Poisons Detective Chief? Naturally, one who spent his days indulging in eating, drinking, gambling, womanizing, and smoking.
However, as Commissioner “Old Mak” pushed police reforms, Lui Lok, along with Yan Hung, Han Sen, and Lam Kong, foresaw trouble and retired early, fleeing with their fortunes.
The once renowned Five Poisons Detective Chief lost his entire fortune overnight, drowning in gambling debts. From a highly sought-after underworld boss, he became a hopeless “waste” in the police force. But luckily, he escaped the anti-corruption purge and was reassigned as a “station sergeant,” wearing a uniform daily, sitting on a wooden stool, fishing by the reservoir.
As the successor personally appointed by Brother Lok before his departure, former detectives and old comrades occasionally sought him out, urging him to return to the scene and take charge.
But a powerless Chinese detective chief was worth less than a roadside dog.
Once, unable to face his embarrassment, he tried to settle a debt for a brother with the Dongguan gang, only to be confronted with a gun barrel, forced to hand over his gold watch as repayment.
They gave him a parting remark: “Looking at you, I’d have thought it was still Brother Lok’s time. A uniformed cop without even a gun—what a pathetic face!”
The world changed so quickly that in just a few years, an entire era could be wiped away.
But since fate had called him to be this Five Poisons Detective Chief, he would never waste time or accept loneliness.
On Hong Kong Island, thirty might mark the career peak, and forty was the retirement age for many politicians. But in the future, thirty was the prime age to strive for success, and sixty was still the age of a super employee with full social security benefits!
Having just completed service and preparing to transfer to local police work, switching to a Chinese police officer in 1980 might even be better than before.
Thus, after once again declining the magistrate’s olive branch, Lin Tiansheng decided to seize the opportunity of the government’s amendment and make a big move, rallying the flag to re-enter the fray.
He refused the magistrate’s offer because he didn’t want to be a pawn; he returned to fight for pride.
Chaos was the best ladder.
Lui Lok had risen by decisive action during the “Double Ten Incident,” earning the approval of the colonial powers; Lam Kong had taken a gamble during the “Sixty-Seven Riots” and later surpassed others.
Tonight, to protest the colonial government’s repeal of the 1974 Immigration Ordinance—which allowed immigrants crossing south of Boundary Street to present family proof at police stations and obtain legal residency documents for Hong Kong Island, known as the “resettlement policy”—over 14,000 new immigrants gathered outside the mere 2.8-kilometer stretch of Boundary Street.
Two days before the ordinance’s enforcement, the police assembled riot squads, mobile units, and the fire department to form anti-riot teams, setting up checkpoints along Boundary Street, erecting barriers, and freezing identity document applications at police stations, sparking public outrage.
Multiple media outlets condemned the authorities for accepting Vietnamese refugees while simultaneously expelling local compatriots, worsening the turmoil. Clashes escalated over consecutive days with frequent bloodshed. By now, numerous triad members had joined the protests.
Among the demonstrators, good and bad mingled indistinguishably. Molotov cocktails, flying stones, machetes, and firearms appeared on the scene.
Organizing riots and protests was traditionally the best way for societies—formed under the guise of clubs—to recruit members and build reputations.
Four Chaozhou police officers holding rattan shields formed a circular phalanx, steadfastly defending the second line. Amidst the clatter and crash, they constantly blocked incoming projectiles.
A young officer, speaking with a regional accent, called out loudly: “Brother Sheng, the Qin gang boss is signaling; they want us to relieve Group A.”
“Go or not?”
Lin Tiansheng clenched his baton, looked at the four subordinates who had guarded the reservoir with him for three years, and said coldly, “Not a chance.”
“Helping the colonial masters beat our own people? That’s worse than being shitless even after having kids.”
Veteran officer Ma Delong looked shocked. “Brother Sheng, if we don’t go now, the Qin gang boss will hold us accountable.”
“I’ll take the blame.”
Lin Tiansheng stepped into the rain, bent down, and moved the barrier aside, answering, “If there’s accountability, let the Qin gang boss take it up with them.”
As his four subordinates exchanged glances, several refugees disregarded the risks and broke through the street barricade. Instantly, a gap opened in the tight formation.
Ten, dozens...
In moments, a mass of refugees surged in, widening the breach. After casualties occurred, more comrades, acting with tacit understanding, used excuses to retreat and let refugees enter the city.
Many officers fiercely wielded batons, hoping to earn the colonial masters’ favor. But more colleagues merely held their bowls, obeying orders but feeling conflicted and disagreeing internally.
Because before midnight, the ordinance was not yet in effect. Immigrant entry was not illegal. The authorities who preemptively set up roadblocks to block new immigrants were the true lawbreakers.
When someone dared to stir trouble, the rest naturally went along.
Qin Gang Boss stepped out of a command vehicle parked by a convenience store, not even bothering with a raincoat, charging forward despite the downpour, his eyes blazing with fury. “Damn you, Lin Tiansheng! I called you here to the front line to make a name for yourself, and this is how you show up?”
“Just the insubordination alone is enough to strip off your uniform and send you to jail!”
Despite being jostled twice by panicked citizens fleeing, Lin Tiansheng stood firm, staring at Qin Baoji’s sharp, handsome face, full of grit, and replied, “Fine, sentence me to a couple more years; it’ll be good to catch up with old friends in Stanley.”
As Brother Lok’s successor, he had old friends not only in Stanley but also many inside the police force.
Qin Baoji drew his baton, impatience darkening his face. “You threatening me, Ah Sheng?”
Lin Tiansheng’s expression turned grim. “You threatened me first. If you’re unhappy, we can settle it in the gym after work.”
Qin Baoji sneered but saw his subordinates rushing over. He stepped forward, intending to teach Lin a lesson, but his eyes caught several groups of refugees by the barricades watching him intently. Fear crept into his heart, and he reluctantly backed down. “Think about how you’ll explain this to Internal Affairs.”
The rain fell hard, the tension thick, and the night stretched on.