Chapter 158: The Late-Night Snack Culture of Xiangjiang

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The plot was extremely simple, requiring careful attention only to the detailed portrayal of Liao and Xia. Liu Qingshan needed merely to convey his ruthless cruelty and the calm ease with which he killed two men in succession. This scene had to be shot in one continuous take, lasting no more than about half a minute.

Thus, after the three performed their roles step by step, everything proceeded flawlessly except for the startled gasps from the onlookers surrounding the set.

Following this was the scene where Ma Jun, played by Zhen Zijian, hurriedly arrived. Once Liao and Xia had a brief rest, filming could continue.

The group gathered, chatting. Kunale and the others surrounded Liu Qingshan. “Master, let’s live together from now on. Otherwise, we keep getting dragged out to drink!”

Liu Qingshan stayed at the hotel provided by the crew, which was actually not as comfortable as their dad hotel. However, that branch was near the homes of several stunt performers in the crew, so these close-knit friends were often pulled out late at night for snacks.

Originally, Indians seldom drank alcohol; lower castes were even forbidden to touch it in their lifetimes. Though alcohol was strictly prohibited in their faith, high-caste individuals, by virtue of their special status and their involvement in Bollywood, inevitably drank.

But frequently drinking conflicted with their beliefs. Not wanting to refuse the stunt performers they had just befriended, they devised this arrangement.

“Don’t more people from the crew stay where I do?”

“Yes, but with you, Master, around to shield us, it’s easier. We thought living farther away would save us trouble, but we still couldn’t escape those social obligations!”

“Alright, changing place sounds good—it saves having to travel so far every day.”

As foreigners, despite having vehicles from the dad hotel in Hong Kong, their unfamiliarity with the environment wasted much time daily. Staying in the crew’s booked hotel was simpler: communal coming and going, plus hired cars provided.

In fact, not many stars stayed inside the crew’s hotel; locals usually went home early after work. Most occupants were workers or actors trying to save money, and Liu Qingshan was more than capable of handling them.

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According to prior agreement, the food and lodging expenses for the Indians were still to be covered by Treasure Film Industry, so a heads-up to the dad hotel was needed for accounting purposes.

The evening’s highlight was a dramatic scene, seemingly effortless but deeply emotional, making progress slower than the action sequences.

Filming ended late at night. Thanks to prior arrangements, the hotel could free up several rooms for seven or eight Indians, without costing the investors.

Unlike the mainland, living conditions in Hong Kong were poor—small hotel rooms and facilities far inferior to those at the dad hotel.

Kunale and the others hardly minded, but they were troubled by the lack of suitable training grounds.

Their mission in China was serious—they were not here for sightseeing. After returning, they had to establish an action team, which explained their tireless efforts and rapid integration into the crew.

Because filming ended late, Zhen Zijian, Hong Dabao, Xia Shaosheng, and Ren Jiahua all chose to stay at the hotel, inviting Liu Qingshan along for a late-night snack.

Naturally, he brought his foreign friends and Shi Hui—his presence could spare them the awkwardness of being pressured to drink.

They went to a street food stall. Unlike the chaotic scenes in movies, Hong Kong’s nights were orderly; patrons felt like familiar neighbors.

There were no street thugs; even close to midnight, crowds surged yet everything remained well regulated and lively.

At midnight in Hong Kong, the true charm was its “fourth meal” culture—the late-night snack—not the neon-lit Victoria Harbor skyline.

The night market stretched along the river, moonlight shimmering on wooden boats drifting on the water. Neon signs flickered in myriad colors. Crowded stalls sold everything from counterfeit sneakers to bagged goldfish.

Of course, the misty, humid air carried karaoke melodies, but beyond these endless impressions, the true obsession was food—a 24-hour cultural passion.

Locals highly valued cuisine, inventing a little-known “fourth meal”—late-night snacks eaten only deep into the night, typically from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m.

Late-night snacks could be eaten anytime between dinner and bedtime.

Though few restaurants actually stayed open 24 hours, many opened late—around 9 p.m.—to cater to the nocturnal crowd.

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Many restaurants, cafés, and street stalls offered special late-night menus; even nightclubs gained fame for their midnight snacks, enjoying equal status alongside DJs and glittering cocktails in the darkness.

The breadth of local cuisine amazed the Indians—from hotel buffets to convenience stores, humble shops to street vendors, everything was available.

Locals lined up for the best egg tarts or marinated roast goose.

Where they dined, a simple, affordable, and delicious wonton noodle shop sat just meters from a Michelin-starred restaurant serving exquisite braised abalone and Brittany blue lobster.

Because most late-night snacks were comforting, tasty, and not very demanding, even Indians with many dietary restrictions easily found food suited to their tastes.

This was why they feared drinking yet cherished the local late-night food culture.

At that moment, as Liu Qingshan and the others clinked glasses and took their first sips of wine, the Indians had already plunged into a blissful feast.

Shi Hui teasingly laughed at them, “Anubis, I heard you all feared the local late-night customs. How come you look like you’re really enjoying yourselves now?”

Anubis was even bigger than Kunale, nearly two meters tall, sitting on a low stool like a giant, clumsy bear.

He chuckled, mumbling an indistinct reply, “It’s just that our faith forbids alcohol and such drinks. Hong Kong people drink so impressively and seriously; once you start, it’s hard to refuse!”

Everyone present was proficient in English, especially Zhen Zijian, who was American-born. But even he initially didn’t understand the meaning of Anubis’s use of the word “sick.”

After thinking it over, he stifled a laugh and asked, “Isn’t the word for ‘awesome’ in the mainland ‘cool’?”

Anubis burst out laughing, then explained.

In Bollywood, English slang trends come from American Hollywood. The word “sick” usually means ill in everyday speech.

However, among many young Americans, strange words are popularized, and with frequent use, many adopt them until they become trendy buzzwords.