Chapter 26: The Provoking Foreigner and the Martial Arts Actor’s Strike

Chapter 26: Foreign Troublemakers and the Kung Fu Actor’s Intervention

Qin Feng walked step by step into Chinatown.

The roadside was lined with snacks, most of which had long queues of both Chinese and foreign customers. Qin Feng wanted to try them all, but he didn't want to wait in line.

"Oh, forget it..."

He hadn't walked far when he noticed a small crowd gathering ahead. Was there something interesting to watch? Even as a director, he was a fan of a good spectacle.

As he approached, he saw two foreign men standing in front of a barbecue stall, gesturing aggressively. They were in their early twenties—one tall and one short, one black and one white. Both were muscular, sporting dreadlocks and wearing slovenly, street-style clothing. Just by looking at them, one could tell they were punks.

The tall one said, "Hey, boss! Didn't you say if it doesn't taste good, we don't have to pay?"

The shorter one, holding a handful of skewers, chewed while shaking his head. "Yeah, we tried all of these, and they’re all bad! Terrible!"

"Gentlemen, please!" The stall owner, a Chinese man in his fifties, bowed repeatedly with a desperate smile. He spoke in broken English: "The 'no pay if it doesn't taste good' slogan is indeed true for my humble shop. But... my profit margins are thin. You’ve already eaten quite a bit and haven't paid a cent! If you think it’s bad, I won't charge you, so please just leave, okay? I have other customers to serve; please don't disrupt my business."

The tall man threw his arms up, his eyebrows arching. "What the f***! What customers? Your food is bad, and now you’re trying to kick us out? That’s not how it works!"

The shorter one continued to chew on a squid skewer. "We are consumers. You’re in the United States, you can’t scam us! We’ll take all the skewers you have—pack them all up for us!"

"You can't do that!" the owner said anxiously. "These are orders for other customers! You can't take them!"

The tall man stepped forward and began rummaging through the plastic bags. "We’re taking all these skewers and all this meat. Since your food is so bad, this is our compensation."

The onlookers could no longer stand by. Some Chinese patrons shouted, "You two can't do this! You can't run wild in Chinatown!"

"Exactly! Do you even know where you are?"

The tall man turned around. "Mind your own business! He said 'no pay if it doesn't taste good,' and we think it's bad, so what? So what if this is Chinatown? It's still on American soil."

Someone shouted, "They’re literally robbing the place! Let's call the police!"

"Yes! Call the police!"

The two punks, who had intended to get a free meal, panicked at the mention of the police. They scrambled to grab the remaining skewers, clearing out the grill and the prep table before turning to run.

"Stop!"

Qin Feng, seeing the situation clearly, stretched out his arms to block their path.

"Get out of the way!" The tall man, broad-shouldered and imposing, swung a fist at Qin Feng.

Whoosh—

The speed was immense! Qin Feng dodged instinctively, the fist whistling past his right cheek.

The shorter one was also fast; he lifted his right leg to kick at Qin Feng’s waist. Qin Feng was caught off guard—he couldn't dodge in time! If that kick landed, he would definitely be sent to the ground.

Just then—

Whoosh!

A figure suddenly flashed beside him with incredible speed, flying into the air and kicking the shorter punk away.

Thud, thud, thud—thump!

"Ouch!"

The shorter man landed, stumbled a few steps, and rolled onto the ground. The packed skewers scattered everywhere.

"F***! You're looking for death!"

Seeing this, the tall man swung his other fist at the newcomer. The man moved with precision and ruthlessness; he dodged the punch, circled to the man’s side, and grabbed two of his fingers with one hand. With a forceful twist and pull, he incapacitated him.

"Argh! It hurts... it hurts! Let go!"

The tall man’s fingers felt like they were about to snap. He doubled over, unable to stand straight, howling in pain. The newcomer delivered a sharp knee strike, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Good! Well done!"

"My goodness! That's Kung Fu, isn't it?!"

"He’s so skilled!"

The surrounding crowd cheered. Qin Feng was secretly stunned as he looked at the man. He was Chinese, with hair spiked up, sharp facial features, thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a bit of stubble. He wore a casual jacket and exuded an aura of martial prowess.

*Wow, it’s Collin Chou.*

Collin Chou, the Hong Kong action actor and go-to villain. He had practiced martial arts since childhood, joined the film industry at twelve as a stunt double, and became a member of the Sammo Hung Stunt Team in his twenties. Known for his fierce and agile fighting style, he had appeared in numerous action films, often playing the primary antagonist to stars like Jet Li. He hadn't expected it to be him.

The two punks lay on the ground, groaning in misery. Collin Chou stepped forward, his eyes wide and stern, and said in fluent English: "I have recorded your behavior on my phone. If you dare to come back to Chinatown to cause trouble, don't blame me for handing this video over to the police. Also, next time I strike, I might not be so gentle!"

The two men clearly sensed that this person was not to be trifled with—he radiated a lethal edge. They exchanged glances, scrambled to their feet without a word, and fled in disgrace.

The crowd erupted into applause.

"Well done, brother!"

"Chinese Kung Fu is amazing!"

"Wait? I think I recognize you. Aren't you the action actor Collin Chou? I've seen your movies."

The stall owner came forward to thank them. "Thank you! Thank you both! I doubt they’ll dare to cause trouble again."

Qin Feng smiled slightly and pulled out a few dollar bills. "Boss, I don't know if this covers what was dropped on the ground, but please take it."

"No, no, it's a small business, it's not that much."

"Please, just take it."

The owner reluctantly accepted with thanks. As Collin Chou was about to leave, Qin Feng called out to him. "Mr. Chou, thank you for your help just now!"

Collin Chou didn't stop. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a small matter."

Qin Feng stepped forward and handed him a business card. "Mr. Chou, I am an assistant director. I would like to talk to you."

"Oh?" Collin Chou took the card and looked at Qin Feng. He studied it for a long time but couldn't recall which Hong Kong director this might be.

"Qin Feng..." *Hmm, never heard of this person.*

He paused before saying, "Alright."

They navigated through the crowd and found a less busy Chinese noodle shop. They went to the second floor and chose a window seat overlooking Chinatown. They ordered a few side dishes and bowls of noodles.

Collin Chou spoke frankly, "Mr. Qin, you’re a film director? We haven't met back in Hong Kong, have we?" He had spent years filming in Hong Kong and knew almost everyone in the directing circle there.

"Ha!" Qin Feng laughed at himself. "I'm from the mainland. I ran into some issues back home, so I'm currently developing my career here in Hollywood."

"Oh, I see..."

"Your Kung Fu is truly impressive, Mr. Chou. Thank you again for earlier."

Collin Chou waved a hand. "Heh, no need. As for Kung Fu, I might not be able to do much else, but taking care of a couple of punks is no problem."

Qin Feng asked, "Are you here in the U.S. for a vacation or to visit family?"

Collin Chou ate a bite of his food. "Auditioning."

"Yuen Woo-ping is the martial arts choreographer here, and he asked me to come and audition for a role."