Xiaohu Wang was so excited that he tossed and turned until late at night before finally falling asleep. At dawn, Yuen Biao got up early to buy breakfast. When he returned, Xiaohu was already awake, standing in the middle of the room, holding a stance: his feet parallel and shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, toes pointing inward. His hands moved slowly through a sequence of motions—so slow it looked almost still.
"Tiger, you've just recovered and you're already practicing?" Yuen Biao set the breakfast down and frowned. "And this doesn't look like what Master taught us, does it?"
Xiaohu nodded, stopping his movements. "This is something I learned before I became a disciple."
"If I'm not mistaken, that's Wing Chun, right?" Though Master Yu Jim-yuen primarily taught Peking Opera stunts and northern styles of kung fu, it didn't stop Yuen Biao from recognizing Wing Chun. After all, in places like Guangzhou and Foshan, schools teaching Hung Gar and Wing Chun were everywhere. Having seen them often, he could naturally tell.
Yuen Biao curled his lip dismissively. "Tiger, I'll be honest. You're a grown man—why practice Wing Chun? If you want real strength, you should practice Hung Gar. Fierce and powerful—that's what suits a man."
Xiaohu gave a wry smile. To him, Wing Chun had nothing to do with gender. In his previous life, he had studied Wing Chun for more than ten years and knew well its power. True, the style was created by a woman, Yim Wing Chun, but plenty of men practiced it as well—the most famous being Bruce Lee's teacher, Ip Man.
Wing Chun, designed with real combat in mind, was a highly scientific and systematic martial art. Its strength lay in close-range fighting. With fast punches, tight defenses, flexible stances, and simultaneous offense and defense, it emphasized balance between hardness and softness while conserving energy. Its techniques were versatile, adaptive, and precise, with the famous "short bridge, narrow stance" and explosive inch power. Known as the "King of Close Combat," Wing Chun relied on sensitivity and precision to control exchanges at the shortest range.
What Xiaohu had just practiced was the foundation of Wing Chun—Siu Nim Tao (Little Idea Form). Though its movements were few, it embodied the core offensive and defensive principles of the style. Mastering Siu Nim Tao laid the groundwork for everything to follow. That was why it was regarded as the first and most important form of Wing Chun.
On the day Xiaohu first apprenticed, his master had warned him: "If your Siu Nim Tao is not correct, your life will never be correct. This is true in martial arts, and true in life."
After breakfast, Yuen Biao said, "Tiger, take it easy at home. I'm heading to the studio. I'll bring you lunch later."
"Biao, could you also pick up some manuscript paper and a pen for me?" Xiaohu asked.
"Paper's no problem," Yuen Biao hesitated, "but pens are expensive."
"Oh…" Xiaohu suddenly remembered that Yuen Biao only earned five Hong Kong dollars a day. After paying for food for the two of them, hardly anything was left. "Then just get me any pen that can write."
"Alright," Yuen Biao nodded before heading out. The room fell silent again, leaving Xiaohu alone. After a short rest, he resumed practicing Siu Nim Tao. At the early stages, the key was softness and slowness—moving gently to grasp the essence. Though in his past life Xiaohu had long since mastered the subtleties of the form, this body had yet to develop the focus and inch power it required. He had no choice but to start from the beginning.
He set his stance in the classic "yee ji kim yeung ma," calm and relaxed, flowing through the form. After completing one round, his whole body felt refreshed. The movements weren't perfect, but he was satisfied. Rome wasn't built in a day, and martial arts couldn't be rushed either.
The entire morning, Xiaohu immersed himself in the repetition of Siu Nim Tao, correcting and refining each motion again and again. He knew he was already behind at the starting line. If he wanted to break into the film industry quickly, he had no choice but to train harder and push his body back to its former peak.
By noon, Yuen Biao returned with three others carrying lunch. As soon as they entered, they saw Xiaohu Wang training hard. Yuen Biao set the food down with a smile and said, "Tiger, Yuen Lo and Yuen Wah came to see you."
Xiaohu looked over and immediately noticed the long-haired, big-nosed, muscular young man—it was none other than Jackie Chan, though at this time he was still known as Yuen Lo. Compared to the future superstar who would dominate the film industry, he looked much more youthful, even rebellious in his attire. Especially with that long hair—if Xiaohu hadn't seen old photos of Jackie in his youth, he might not have recognized him.
Behind him stood another young man—Yuen Wah. Xiaohu knew that this same person would one day play the role of the Landlord in Stephen Chow's Kung Fu Hustle. But for now, he was still working alongside Jackie as a stuntman, and it wouldn't be long before Bruce Lee noticed his acrobatic skills and recruited him as a stunt double.
"Senior brothers, what brings you here?" Xiaohu felt a wave of emotion rise in his chest.
Yuen Lo rubbed his big nose and said, "We don't have any filming this afternoon. Biao told us you'd woken up, so Wah and I came by to check on you."
Yuen Wah grinned. "That's right. We had some free time anyway, so we thought we'd stop by. How are you feeling, Tiger?"
Xiaohu's eyes grew moist. To be visited by two future legends was truly a blessing.
"Thank you, senior brothers. I'm feeling much better."
Meanwhile, Yuen Biao had already set the table and called out, "Come on, let's eat while we talk."
Today's lunch was more lavish than usual—a small treat they had bought after receiving their pay.
Yuen Lo, Yuen Wah, and Yuen Biao filled Xiaohu's bowl to the brim, leaving him embarrassed. Holding his chopsticks, he said, "Senior brothers, you should eat too."
Yuen Lo chuckled. "You've just recovered, you need more nutrition."
Yuen Biao and Yuen Wah both nodded in agreement. Xiaohu nearly burst into tears again—not because these future stars were serving him food, but because of the warmth of their brotherhood.
"Tiger, it's good to see you working hard now," Yuen Wah said. "Back in the day, you were the laziest of us all."
Xiaohu smiled. "This illness made me realize many things. From now on, I'll never let you brothers down. I'll work twice as hard."
"That's the spirit," Yuen Lo said with a nod. "Biao told me you want to become a stuntman?"
Xiaohu nodded firmly. "Yes, senior brother. Master taught us these skills—we shouldn't let them go to waste. And I don't want to be the one always needing to be taken care of."
Hearing this, Yuen Lo fell into thought before nodding. "It's good you have this drive. I'll mention it to Uncle Willie. He's been busy preparing for the release of The Big Boss these days."
Xiaohu's heart stirred. So it's true—The Big Boss is about to premiere. That means filming for Fist of Fury will begin soon. Soon, I'll have the chance to witness Bruce Lee in action.
But his ambitions stretched further than that. Meeting Bruce Lee would not be the end—he had his own plans.
"Thank you, senior brother." Xiaohu picked up a chicken leg and placed it in Yuen Lo's bowl.
This earned him a loud laugh from Yuen Biao, who pointed with his chopsticks. "See that, Yuen Lo, Yuen Wah? I told you Tiger's wised up—he's even learning how to butter people up now!"
Yuen Lo and Yuen Wah both laughed. "He really has! He's even being polite now. That's progress!"
The four of them joked and laughed, the atmosphere reminiscent of their training days—except far warmer. At least now, unlike back then, Master Yu Jim-yuen wasn't around to forbid talking at the table, enforced with a heavy beating if disobeyed.