The slow-braised pork hock, weighing over a jin, rested in the serving dish, its tremulous, dark jujube-red skin stark against the gleaming white porcelain. Framed by crisp, emerald-green lettuce, the sight alone delivered a visceral punch. When Fang Senyan lifted a piece and placed it in his mouth, it simply melted, though the slightly charred skin offered a satisfying chew. He couldn't resist gobbling down two or three more mouthfuls of rice.

The long green onions buried beneath the meat were equally flavorful, having fully absorbed the rich essence of the pork hock. Enhanced by the heady aroma of spices, the dish perfectly embodied the saying, "Rich without being greasy." The flavor of the hock was profoundly authentic. Fang Senyan ate ravenously, even soaking up the remaining sauce with his rice until the plate was immaculately clean.

After settling the bill, Fang Senyan was preparing to source more raw materials for his tinctures when San Zai approached him, relaying that Fourth Uncle wanted him to come inspect the progress on the boat repair. Fang Senyan knew this project was almost the driving force of Fourth Uncle’s life, the goal that sustained him. Furthermore, since Fourth Uncle was leaving for Thailand in a few days and wouldn't be able to oversee things, Fang Senyan was keen to expedite the ship’s completion.

Although vehicles and vessels, being modes of transport with the same basic function, are often grouped together, the reality is that building a car is far more complex than constructing a boat. This was especially true for the iron-hulled trawler Fang Senyan required—roughly five hundred tons displacement and forty-nine meters long—a vessel whose low technical specifications were almost insulting.

To offer a simple comparison: the city of Taizhou on mainland China alone boasts over a hundred shipbuilding enterprises and more than seventy supporting companies. One must ask if all of China’s automobile companies even total one hundred. Thus, even in a private port like West Pier Five, there were two or three repair shops willing to take on shipbuilding work, provided the cash was sufficient.

The shipyard Fang Senyan and the others chose was recommended by Uncle Da, a place called "Yong Tai." The boss, Brother He, was a kind, benevolent man who greeted everyone with a constant, deferential smile, instantly bonding with the seasoned seaman, Fourth Uncle. Since the money Fang Senyan had provided was more than enough for the boss to make a handsome profit, he was dedicating himself fully to the work. Moreover, with Fourth Uncle frequently stopping by to supervise and ensure quality, the materials and craftsmanship were handled with meticulous care.

Since his near-crippling accident, Fourth Uncle’s psychological age seemed to have regressed by several decades, perpetually haunted by the feelings of being "useless" or a "cripple." Had Fang Senyan not been so adept at observing and comforting him, he might have already succumbed to depression.

Therefore, when Fourth Uncle called Fang Senyan over to look at the boat, he possessed the anxious excitement of a small child rushing home to show off a perfect score on a test—a deep need to prove he was not a lost cause, that he could still contribute and shine.

Little did they know that upon entering the Yong Tai shipyard, they found Brother He locked in a heated argument with his son. Fang Senyan was seeing the son, Da Bing, for the first time; San Zai had mentioned his name. The boy had a round face, but his hair was dyed bright red and spiked up into a rooster comb, creating an intensely jarring appearance. Seeing Fang Senyan and the others approach, Da Bing violently shoved his father’s chest aside, turned, and pointed at them scornfully:

“Hey, the ship you ordered isn't due until next year! What are you doing here now?? Get lost, get lost!”

This declaration hit Fourth Uncle like a lightning strike from a clear sky. He immediately walked forward, pointing at the nearly completed hull in the dry dock, and trembled with grief-stricken anger:

“This is the boat we ordered! Why must it wait until next year?”

Da Bing’s eyes narrowed, and he strode forward, cursing crudely:

“You old fool! Your hands are already ruined, and you want to lose your legs too? This is my family’s shipyard, and I make the rules!”

His words struck directly at the deepest wound in Fourth Uncle’s heart. His face turned ashen gray, and he doubled over, coughing violently until he felt slightly better. Seeing this, a flash of ferocity crossed Fang Senyan’s eyes. He murmured a few words to San Zai, who immediately darted away. Fortunately, at that moment, Brother He rushed forward, his face pale with fury, and slapped Da Bing hard across the head. His hand trembled, and his lips quivered:

“Are you trying to destroy whatever respect I have left?”

Da Bing shoved his father away again and roared:

“I’m telling you, this boat needs to launch within a week for my use, or no one will be around to take care of you in your old age!”

Fang Senyan stepped forward, placing himself protectively between Da Bing and Fourth Uncle, and said slowly, without haste:

“Fine! If you won’t deliver the ship, then return the initial deposit I paid—that’s over four million NT dollars in total!”

Hearing this, Da Bing reacted as if he had heard the funniest thing in the world. He sauntered over with a swagger:

“Return the money?”

He sneered:

“Are you trying to mess with my family? We had a clear agreement face-to-face to build the ship here. Now you dare go back on your word? Fine! But first, pay me compensation for emotional distress!”

After speaking, Da Bing spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the ground, ground it under his heel, implying that if Fang Senyan persisted, that would be his fate.

Fang Senyan remained calm:

“Are you deliberately being unreasonable? We came here to build this ship out of respect for Uncle Da. You have quite an appetite, trying to swallow millions of NT dollars in one gulp? Aren't you afraid your stomach will burst?”

Da Bing’s expression faltered slightly upon hearing Uncle Da’s name, but he quickly rallied with venom:

“Don’t try to pressure me with that old bastard, Uncle Da! When Da Bing is mad, I don’t recognize even the Jade Emperor. You say we took your money? Where’s the proof?”

In a place like West Pier Five, unregistered transactions were abundant; there were no receipts or invoices. Hearing this, Fourth Uncle’s vision momentarily dimmed; faced with this blatant denial of debt, he nearly pounded his chest in frustration. Fang Senyan, however, continued his unhurried, warbling exchange with Da Bing. Then, less than twenty minutes later, the distinct putt-putt-putt of an aging motorcycle was heard from outside, followed by the sound of three or four men walking up.

Leading the group was the stout Brother Barrel-Pooper (Ma Tong Ge), who maintained his effortlessly cool demeanor, tossing back his slick, oiled black hair. He pointed directly at Da Bing and began to curse him loudly:

“You, you, you, you actually dare to bully Brother Yan!”

The threat was made ludicrous by Brother Barrel-Pooper’s stutter, which made Da Bing look immediately flustered:

“Barrel-Pooper, I’m warning you, this isn’t something you should get involved in.”

Brother Barrel-Pooper immediately delivered a sharp slap that drew blood from Da Bing’s nose, sending him nearly spinning around; he froze in place, stunned. Brother Barrel-Pooper was fundamentally a man who preferred dealing with people using slaps and fists, quite unlike a petty hoodlum like Da Bing who relied more on verbal sparring.

Seeing their leader act, the four enforcers following—Si’er, Da Liu, and Dan Ta, all carrying baseball bats and chains—poured forward, raining down punches, kicks, and a relentless barrage of vulgar insults. The solid thwack of flesh hitting flesh delighted San Zai, who cheered loudly.

Only then did Brother Barrel-Pooper slowly retrieve a mobile phone from his pocket, opening his notes app. He began reading directly to the battered and bloody Da Bing:

“My, my, my, my mother/screw your grandma/dammit, your, your, your, your wife/sleep with your mom, mom, mom, mom…”

This stuttering fat man continued reciting for a full seven or eight minutes before finally stopping, quite satisfied, smoothing his greasy black hair, and muttering to himself:

“It feels so good when no one dares to talk back.”

Fang Senyan then turned to the wide-eyed, shell-shocked Fourth Uncle and asked calmly:

“What date did we agree on for the delivery?”

Fourth Uncle thought for a moment, then replied quickly:

“The fifth day of the next month, the same day San Zai has his ritual ceremony!”

Fang Senyan pulled out a thousand-dollar bill and tossed it to Brother Barrel-Pooper:

“Did you hear that?”

Brother Barrel-Pooper accepted the money with eager bows and a beaming smile: “This is truly… why must Brother Yan spend his money like this.”

Even as he spoke, he tucked the bill into his pocket, strode forward, and planted his foot heavily on Da Bing’s bloodied face, kicking him several times. Then, he grabbed Da Bing by the hair, forcing their faces close:

“On the first day of next month, Brother Yan expects to see this ship complete and waiting for him. If you fail to deliver it, or if there is even the slightest flaw, tell your old man to start shopping for your ashes box.”

Fang Senyan lowered his gaze, guiding Fourth Uncle back the way they came, and said with a light laugh:

“I think the construction looks fine. I wonder how big we should make the cold storage unit?”

The mention of the ship immediately rekindled Fourth Uncle’s spirits, making him forget the earlier humiliation. He said eagerly:

“I once heard about a certain model, but it didn’t seem very good…”

“Oh, then Uncle Si will need to put a lot of thought into that. We’ve often encountered backdrafts on the return journey before, spoiling the fish so badly we had to dump them.”

“Yes, yes! Absolutely!”

“……”

That evening, as Fang Senyan was intensely focused on compounding materials for his elixirs, he suddenly heard a series of forceful knocks against the bolted basement door, which soon turned into frantic pounding!

Fang Senyan frowned, quickly tidied his workspace, and went to open the door. He found San Zai supporting the staggering Dan Ta, one of Brother Barrel-Pooper’s men. Dan Ta’s face was deathly pale, completely drained of color, though San Zai appeared relatively calm. As soon as Dan Ta saw Fang Senyan, he gasped for breath, clutching his chest, seemingly unable to speak clearly.

Fang Senyan’s expression hardened:

“What has you in such a panic? The sky isn't falling. San Zai, help him sit down, and get him a glass of hot water!”

Dan Ta took a sip, but his hand shook so violently that he didn't even notice the remaining hot water spilling onto his trousers:

“Brother Yan, it’s serious. Brother Barrel-Pooper is in emergency surgery right now! That bastard Da Bing is backed by the Da Quan Zai triad from Vietnam!”

Fang Senyan looked puzzled:

“He’s just a local punk from Taiwan; he’s never even had the chance to go to Vietnam. How did he get involved with those people?”