Jackie usually came to you when he got injued in his street fighting. Despite the intensity with which he fought, he never suffered any major injuries. However, he always arrived with slight bruises and marks on his skin, serving as a reminder of the physical battles he had just endured.

This made you wonder why he got involved in fights often.

Maybe this was the consequence of living in Kowloon, Hong Kong-- a lawless city governed by local triads-- in 1967. A city that had high rates of prostitution, gambling and drug abuse.

As you sat on the wooden stool, he reclined on the bed, his bruised arm carefully being tended to by you. The soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand cast a warm light in the room, illuminating your hands as they worked with gentle precision. The quietness of the moment was only interrupted by the occasional rustling of bed sheets and the sound of Jackie’s voice recounting his fight.