When my roommates and I were starving to death in Singapore, we took on a collection job.
I didn't bring a knife or anyone. I only used a bottle of ice water and a flashlight to make the old man with a debt of five million kneel down and hand over the combination of the safe.
The underworld boss begged me on his knees to be a consultant.
Later, Master Wong from Chinatown set up a seven-star ecstasy array, hoping to use the "wrath of the gods" to ruin my reputation.
He burned talismans and recited mantras, and the water turned into blood.
I walked over and poured a bottle of white vinegar.
"This is called acid-base neutralization reaction."
He went crazy and said he was going to use infrasound waves to shatter my insides.
I took out a 3,000-lumen tactical flashlight.
"Master Huang, did you know that the speed of light is faster than the speed of sound?"
From that day on, a saying began to circulate among Singapore's wealthy circles:
"Don't mess with that poor boy who studies physics. He has no tricks in his hands, only formulas."
