In the cold winter of 1999, scalding mutton soup poured out of the copper hotpot in the He family's old house.
Qinglong Gang Chen Jiu stared at the red dragon birthmark on the baby's back, and the frozen soil on the bottom of the boots was falling away.
Twenty years later, all the Shencheng gangs and lakes will remember that evening - the sunset was like blood when He Yu was born, and the wails of thirty motorcycles from the Hunhe Gang could not cover up the sirens of twelve Jettas blaring as the baby cried.
He is the youngest helmsman of West Tower Street, with seven lives under his coiled dragon tattoo.
When the black extended Lincoln rolled over the blue bricks on the middle street, a boy in school uniform was folding a math paper into a paper knife.
Until that rainy night, when he tore his baseball shirt to save the girl in the white dress, revealing the dragon scales dyed with cinnabar.
"Looking across the sky in Shencheng, no one can see Mr. He not handing over a cigarette."
When the coiled dragon tattoo is exposed to the police flashlight,
Underground gambling bureaus throughout the north began to place bets——
What this dragon wants to tear apart is the rules of the world, or his own life.
