Perhaps it was because the thick stew Fang Senyan drank came straight from the bottom of the pot; thus, after savoring the last mouthful of the delicious broth, he could feel it slide down his tongue, throat, and into his belly, leaving behind a lingering, faint aroma of char that was truly unforgettable.

"This." Fang Senyan took a closer look and immediately understood: "Isn't this the very common 'Bowl Fin'?"

Bowl Fin is arguably one of the most common street foods in Hong Kong, formerly sold by vendors on the roadside, named for being served in small bowls.

Although its name contains the character for "fin" (), this precious ingredient is no longer included in its current composition. Strictly speaking, even chicken wings are still possibly—

The Bowl Fin at this Dai Pai Dong appeared to feature shredded shiitake mushrooms, shredded meat, shredded ham, egg, and vermicelli as main ingredients. None of these were particularly special; it was merely a thin, starchy slurry thickened after a solid three hours of simmering. The real highlight, however, must have been the broth specially brewed by the boss.

Fang Senyan wanted another bowl and held up his bowl, strongly demanding a refill. The gaunt, sallow woman approached to collect the bowls. Her face was stern, as if Fang Senyan were trying to eat for free. She spat out a curt, clipped "Nope," spun around, and walked away carrying a wooden basin full of tableware.

At that moment, he saw the male boss, accompanied by two kitchen hands, maneuvering a large, lidded pot from the back toward the stove with heavy grunts of exertion—Hee-yo, haw-yo. The pot, including the liquid inside, weighed at least a hundred pounds. The wooden lid, stained with grease, steamed continuously, bubbling fiercely and emitting an indescribable, rich aroma.

Upon witnessing this scene, some seated patrons shook their heads with regret and began to stand up, about half having already left. However, the onlookers waiting outside immediately filled the vacated spots. Others became intensely excited, pulling out their phones to call colleagues and ask how many portions they should bring back.

Fang Senyan, harboring his own curiosity, waited quietly to observe. After a while, the sallow woman emerged with a grim expression. She grabbed a greasy, dirty notebook and a nearly spent ballpoint pen with a crack in the casing, and began taking orders sequentially at each table.

Fang Senyan was utterly bewildered and completely in the dark about what was being served next. However, one of his virtues was that he was not a picky eater, and the initial impression left by that bowl of Bowl Fin had been quite good. So, he pricked up his ears, listened carefully to what the person next to him ordered, and when it was his turn, he parroted exactly: "Three pounds of hind leg, fresh pepper sauce, half a pound of offal!"

It wasn't until a bare-chested kitchen hand, sweating profusely, set down a steaming large basin in front of Fang Senyan that he suddenly realized what it was: plain boiled dog meat! No wonder some people refused to eat it, yet those flocking to fill the empty seats were rushing forward like crazy. Surely the adage, "Dog meat rolling three times, even an immortal can't stay seated," wasn't just idle talk?

The portion of dog meat before Fang Senyan had been simmered to extreme tenderness. The bare, shiny skin and the tendon meat had burst open in clumps, quivering slightly in the air. Sprinkled over the snow-white, thick broth were bits of tender green scallions. Special spices had clearly been added during the stewing process; though it was a 'white' preparation, the fragrance was intensely rich, and the soup base was made from mushy, yellowish split peas.

Listening to the sounds around him now, there was absolutely no conversation. In that moment, everyone present—white-collar workers, triads, police officers, civil servants, prostitutes, and johns—had shed their respective identities. Only the old regulars remained, and all that could be heard was the symphony of slurping and sucking meat and broth, rising and falling together.

The half-bowl of Bowl Fin from earlier meant absolutely nothing to the hungry Fang Senyan. Now, when he swallowed, he could hear the 'gulp' echo as it hit his stomach. Stirred by the atmosphere, he tossed aside his chopsticks, used his bare hands, and tore off a large chunk of tendon meat from the dog leg. After blowing on it a few times, he dipped it into the neighboring dish of spicy sauce and minced garlic, and shoveled it into his mouth. He could clearly feel the pleasing sound of his teeth cutting through the succulent muscle fibers. The unique texture of the dog meat, mixed with the flavor of the condiments, slid down his throat, and his hand was already involuntarily tearing off the second piece.

Because the spicy sauce used for dipping was slightly salty, Fang Senyan let out a greasy burp after eating three large chunks of the mushy dog meat. He scooped up a bowl of the fresh broth to drink. Strictly speaking, the soup was mild, likely seasoned with only a pinch of salt, but it was excellent for washing away the lingering flavors of the dip in his mouth. The split peas at the bottom of the soup were incredibly soft and tender; it seemed as if, once it rinsed his mouth, the powder subtly churned on his tongue before completely dissolving, directly coating his taste buds in the most straightforward manner.

As Fang Senyan ate the dog meat, he began to regret it after the third piece. By the fifth piece, intense resentment had surfaced. After two more bites, he could no longer restrain himself and shouted: "Boss, give me three more pounds of dog meat!"

The sallow woman walked over and said coldly, "No more."

Fang Senyan: "I'll pay extra!"

The sallow woman became impatient, even fiercer than Fang Senyan: "Money won't buy you more! Eat up quickly and scram, don't block my business. I have to catch my mahjong game at three o'clock!"

Faced with such a fierce proprietress, Fang Senyan could only eat the remaining meat and soup with tears welling up, reluctantly finishing the half-pound of dog offal that had been served to him. Only then did he realize that the offal was complimentary, similar to the pickles served at noodle shops on the mainland. When he finished and paid the bill, he was only charged for the three pounds of dog meat, and the price was very reasonable—no wonder the patrons flocked here.

After this satisfying meal, Fang Senyan felt invigorated. He purchased some gifts and flew back to Taiwan again. There were no incidents along the way. By now, Zai Zai had already followed Fang Senyan's instructions: he rented a small detached house near the coast and promptly invited the quick-handed Ah Mu Zeng to look after the Great Fourth Uncle.

Upon returning home, he saw Ah Mu Zeng sweeping nearby, but Great Fourth Uncle and Zai Zai were absent. When Fang Senyan asked about their whereabouts, he was told they had gone to the hospital to have the hand dressing changed. Strangely, changing the dressing usually took no more than an hour, yet this time it had taken nearly the entire afternoon.

Fang Senyan knew that the hospital where Great Fourth Uncle usually had his dressings changed was recommended by Uncle Da. The full name was the "Veterans Affairs Council Puli Service and Care Center." Because of its connection to the military, it was highly skilled in treating external injuries.

Before treating the wound, Great Fourth Uncle’s injury had been festering and oozing pus, but now it was significantly better and closed up; it was estimated to scab over and heal within another week. Fang Senyan was puzzled, but since he had nothing pressing to do, he instructed Ah Mu Zeng and hailed a taxi from Pier W on the west side to go pick them up.

Arriving at the Care Center Hospital, Fang Senyan noticed several black sedans parked at the entrance, but he paid them no mind and walked straight inside. After inquiring with the young nurse at the information desk, he learned that the dressing change was at the surgery department on the fifth floor, so he went directly to wait for the elevator. However, he saw streaks of blood dripping from the main hospital entrance all the way to the elevator doors, and the blood looked quite fresh, likely spilled within the last few hours.

After getting into the elevator, Fang Senyan was shocked to see fresh blood inside as well, soaking the carpet into a patch the size of a washbasin. He arrived on the fifth floor and exited the elevator. He noticed that the nurses bustling about looked tense and anxious, and the doctors inside the examination rooms also seemed flustered, speaking in very low voices, apparently afraid of disturbing something.

Fang Senyan cautiously moved forward toward the surgical examination room nearby. As he turned the corner, his pace faltered slightly. Along the corridor, about thirty meters long, the seats on both sides were densely packed with adult men between the ages of eighteen and forty. Most of them were smoking, looking anxious, inadvertently displaying tattoos, ink, and scars, occasionally cursing under their breath.

Clearly, Fang Senyan had stumbled upon a scene typically reserved for triad movies. Most likely, a high-ranking 'boss' had been injured in a gang fight. Regardless of what these members were thinking, they were outwardly displaying the utmost sorrow, needing to show loyalty even if they couldn't immediately take power.

Although the atmosphere looked rather serious and intimidating, Fang Senyan had seen his share of scenes; frankly, the spectacle these men put on was less shocking than facing a ferocious beast. He walked straight through the corridor.

Those gang members fixed him with cold, wary stares. Being "noticed" in that manner was indeed unsettling. As Fang Senyan approached the area near the door where a line of men in black suits and sunglasses stood guard before a certain room, a man with a gold chain, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, suddenly stepped out and blocked his path: "Kid, what are you doing?"

Fang Senyan didn't wish for trouble; he tilted his head slightly and said plainly, "Visiting a patient."

The gold-chained man asked, "Who?"

Fang Senyan remained unmoved: "My uncle. My younger brother brought him to have the doctor change the dressing. The orderly said they were in examination room 5Q."

The gold-chained man did not appear eager to start a fight, so he let Fang Senyan pass.

Suddenly, a quarrel erupted from the examination room at the end of the corridor, rapidly escalating into loud cursing, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Then, the door of the examination room was smashed open, and a person clutching their head and curled into a ball was thrown out, accompanied by a torrent of foul language: "You little brat, until the results of Big Brother's injury are out, no one gets treated! Screw you for wanting a change of dressing, screw you for wanting a change of medicine!"

Fang Senyan's pupils suddenly contracted. The outline of the figure thrown out and curled on the ground looked awfully familiar—it was Zai Zai!