My name is Qiao Jiajin.
I lied.
I do not live in Guangdong; I only came here looking for someone. But to me, it makes no difference where I am. After all, after I spent four years in prison for Old Master Rong, Portland Street had changed into a place I no longer recognized.
That day, the only one who came to pick me up from prison was a loafer. Not a single brother from the gang showed up, nor did Old Master Rong. In those four years, only Ninth Boy had come a few times, but I had not seen him for a long time either.
"Brother Jin! Over here!"
The loafer saw me come out and waved enthusiastically from across the road.
"You are..."
I had almost forgotten where I had met him.
"Buddy Liang, Brother Jin."
Buddy Liang—a name so common I'd heard it too many times to place. Four years ago, I already had over a hundred underlings, and they had their own underlings. How could I remember them all?
I could only pretend to recognize him: "Why did you come?"
"Brother Jin, I'm here to pick you up."
He pulled me over to an old pickup parked nearby.