Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

October 20th.

Governor Wilson stood on a makeshift platform erected on the outskirts of the Kowloon Walled City East. Behind him, the colossal grey building that had savagely dominated Kowloon for nearly a century was emitting its final breath.

The area below the stage was packed with reporters with their cameras and microphones, onlookers, and residents of the Walled City who had moved into their new public housing less than two weeks prior and had made a special trip back to bid it farewell. The area outside the police cordon was so crowded that it was impossible to move.

Wilson wore a well-tailored dark blue British suit, with a dark red tie carefully selected by the Secretary of the Government House—a look that was both official and dignified, yet subtly conveyed a sense of vigor in embracing the new era.

At 10:00 AM sharp, Wilson cleared his throat, slightly turned his head to avoid the blazing sunlight, leaned forward to face the high-powered loudspeaker, and began this brief speech that was destined to be recorded in the history of Hong Kong:

"The Kowloon Walled City is the most unique scar and mark in the modern history of Hong Kong Island. In the long and chaotic past, it was a military camp, a lawless place where no one could interfere, and the last refuge for countless refugees and suffering people to eke out a living..."

"Kowloon Walled City is a unique place in the modern history of Hong Kong Island. For nearly a century, it served as a military barracks, a no-man's-land, and the last refuge for countless people fleeing war and poverty..."

His speech had a typical scholarly style, neither shying away from the dark side of the walled city nor denying the pain and unease that demolition brought to some people, but in the last paragraph, he raised his voice a notch.

"...Just as Yu Jicheng made sacrifices on this land, Kowloon Walled City will eventually give way to a new era. Today, what we are doing is not saying goodbye to an old city, but witnessing a new metropolis growing anew from this land with a rich history."

After the speech, applause spread from the front row of the viewing platform to the edges of the crowd. Some people whistled, some lifted their children above their heads to show them the bulldozers, and of course, most of the people were the old neighbors with complex expressions.

On the outskirts of the crowd, an elderly overseas Chinese man with gray hair, wearing a faded old suit, took off his reading glasses and wiped the tear-stained lenses with a handkerchief again and again; the owner of a food stall on Longjin Road leaned against the iron fence at the entrance of the alley with her arms crossed, her face showing no joy or sorrow, only her eyes were slightly red.

Wei Yixin walked to one side of the viewing platform, grasped a push bar tied with a red ribbon, and pulled it down forcefully.

In the distance, at the eastern end of Longjin Road, a bright yellow bulldozer at demolition site No. 1 let out a deep and long roar, and the black smoke from its exhaust pipe billowed into a crooked column of smoke in the morning breeze.

The excavator bucket rose and slowly pushed towards the first vacated tenement building in the eastern district—No. 2 Longjin Road.

The grayish-yellow exterior wall had long since peeled away, revealing the rough and mottled brick and stone texture underneath. On the broken glass window on the second floor, there was still a severely faded red paper-cut window decoration, perhaps a trace left from some Spring Festival. The edges had long been curled up, but the "福" (fortune) character in the middle was still faintly visible.

The moment the bucket hit the wall, the window lattice was shaken off the glass, spun in the air, and was then crushed into the pile of broken bricks by the bulldozer's tracks.

Patches of cement plaster peeled away, revealing the rusty steel frame beneath, like a corpse with its chest ripped open. The entire wall bent inward, and an old slipper, long abandoned by its owner, slid down from the beam, hit the dentist's clinic's lightbox whose signboard had been knocked off, bounced twice, and fell into the nearby pile of construction debris.

……

In the distance, the top floor of the Longcheng Building.

This luxury apartment, located in the northeast of Kowloon Walled City, is a high-end residential project completed last year by Golden Harvest Properties. Its exterior is entirely made of dark blue glass curtain walls, facing a panoramic view of the Walled City.

The super-large single-level apartment on the top floor, which connects three units, has never been sold to the public and is owned by Jiahe Group.

At this moment, several figures stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the instant the fortress collapsed.

Lu Chen stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the gray buildings outside the window being slowly eroded away by hydraulic hammers. He was wearing a dark gray shirt today, the sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms. Standing to his left, Huo Daheng leaned on a rosewood cane, the cuffs of his Tang suit swaying gently in the air conditioning.

Bao Chuanwang stood to the right, holding a cup of unsweetened iced lemon tea, the ice mostly melted. Li Shutang wasn't wearing his police uniform, but a dark blue casual jacket. He stood half a step behind Bao Chuanwang, his hands behind his back, his gaze passing over the shoulders of the people in front of him and landing on the dust rising from the ruins outside the window.

To the right of the four, there stood two unusual figures, one tall and one short.

The middle-aged man was like a tornado. He stood at the far left of the floor-to-ceiling window, his arms crossed, silently watching the gray buildings outside the window that were collapsing.

Today he wore a dark gray Tang suit, the collar buttons fastened meticulously, and the cuffs slightly rolled up, revealing several old, faded white scars on his forearms. Those were left to him by the walled city—whether as a gift or a shackle, he didn't know.

As the guardian of the walled city, he dedicated most of his youth to this lawless area. When the children in the East District were bullied by thugs, he stepped in to settle things; when the merchants in the West District were harassed by protection money collectors, he stepped in to settle things; when two groups in the Triangle District clashed over a water tap in a pump room, he stepped in to settle things again.

There are no laws in the walled city, but he is the law of the walled city.

Of course, all of that is in the past. Since Luo Jun and Xin Yi found good jobs outside, Tornado has rarely returned to the city. But when Lu Chen sent a car to pick him up today, he did not refuse.

It's not for mourning and grieving, but to bid farewell to this old era with our own eyes.

As for the other beautiful figure, it is naturally Josie Ho.

She stood to Lu Chen's right, about an arm's length away, dressed in a smart beige business suit. Her skirt hem fell just past her knees, and her dark hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing a lustrous pearl earring on her left ear—elegant and reserved.

She arrived on Hong Kong Island three days ago, and on the afternoon of her arrival, she first went to the Huo family's old residence.

Huo Daheng met her in his study. His cane was resting next to the armrest of his chair, and his face was expressionless.

He Chaoqiong humbled herself and conveyed her father's apology. She also said that Uncle Huo's health was of utmost importance, and her father had specially asked someone to bring back several boxes of wild ginseng from Changbai Mountain in the hope that he would enjoy good health and longevity.

As expected, Huo Daheng ultimately couldn't bring himself to offend the younger generation. He remained silent for a while, then finally took the ginseng, glanced at it, and said, "Thank you for your kindness."

Later, she also visited the Bao family's manor and the Li Shutang family's villa. Faced with the polite and courteous He Chaoqiong, neither of them had any temper and expressed their welcome to her arrival in Hong Kong.

Finally, she visited the last stop of her trip, the Lu Family Manor.

Lu Chen met her in the garden. At that time, Kele and Sprite were squatting on the lawn chewing on a rubber bone, while little Lu Qian was riding a tricycle in circles not far away.

Pansy Ho presented Stanley Ho with a handwritten letter. The letter was concise and humble, attributing all past frictions to "communication failures by subordinates," and promising that she would personally oversee the audit process of the SJM Holdings Foundation.

After reading the letter, Lu Chen folded it up, put it back in the envelope, and placed it on the coffee table next to him.

"Has your dad finally come to his senses?"

"Yes, Daddy said he was too stubborn before. Uncle Fok's plan regarding SJM Holdings is correct, and he fully supports it. As for the accounts, we can send someone in to check them at any time, and he will cooperate personally." She paused, then added, "Daddy said there are some things he's embarrassed to say to my face, so he asked me to say them on his behalf—I'm sorry."

Lu Chen picked up his teacup but didn't reply immediately. On the lawn, Cola rolled around and got his rubber bone stuck under the wheel of Lu Qian's tricycle. The little guy giggled as he picked it up and threw it away.

"The debt your father owes is not mine, it's Old Huo's."

"I've already been to Uncle Fok's place," Ho Chiu-kwan said, her tone becoming a little lighter after getting a way out. "Uncle Fok even asked me if I'm happy with my work at Shun Tak Holdings lately."

Lu Chen looked at her for a moment, then put down his teacup. "Alright. Tell your father to relax. He'll see the draft of the foundation's by the end of the month. He can raise any opinions he has, but the general direction won't change."

"Understood." He Chaoqiong nodded, picked up her teacup, and took a sip. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the magnolia trees in the garden, falling on her profile and making the pearl earring on her left ear gleam slightly.

After putting down her teacup, she noticed that Xiao Luqian was standing with his hand on the coffee table, looking up at her with his round little face, holding a model of an excavator whose tires had been chewed off-center by a large dog.

He Chaoqiong knelt down and said gently, "Him, the excavator's wheel is bent. Do you want me to fix it for you?"

Little Lu Qian looked carefully at the pretty older sister in front of him, then at the excavator, and obediently stretched out his little hand.

He Chaoqiong took the plastic excavator, forcefully straightened the rubber wheel that had been chewed crooked by the dog, wiped the mud off the bucket with his own handkerchief, and then returned it to him.

Xiao Luqian took it and pushed it on the coffee table for a while. He found that the wheel was no longer veering off course. He looked up and grinned at her, revealing two missing front teeth.

"Thank you, sister."

"You're welcome."

Lu Chen observed all of this without saying a word.

He knew that Stanley Ho and Lucina Laam must have made meticulous preparations behind the scenes for this trip to Hong Kong Island, carefully considering the weight of every word and every gift for her.

However, the ability to execute the political tasks assigned by one's elders so seamlessly and without any trace of artifice, even turning Huo Daheng's coldness into tacit approval, turning Bao Chuanwang's difficult behavior into jokes, and getting Li Shutang to stop and chat amidst his busy schedule, cannot be explained by mere acting.

Pansy Ho certainly has her father's talent for navigating complex interpersonal relationships with ease—but she has one more thing than her father: sincerity.

Or rather, it's about making people believe in her sincerity.

Therefore, on the day of the demolition of the fortified village, Lu Chen also invited her.

This wasn't a formal meeting invitation, but rather a signal—the door to the Red Alliance had reopened a crack for them, and the He family already had one foot on the threshold.

Whether they can get in depends on how well the SJM Holdings Foundation handles its affairs.