I am 21 this year. I was born in mainland China and came to Hong Kong with my mother in 2018, when I started Form 1. Due to cultural differences and being a transfer student, I struggled academically and socially. With my mother working long hours, I spent my time at billiard halls and game centers. I dropped out after two months and began hanging out with friends I met outside school.
I was skilled at billiards and spent most of my time at the hall, where I met older friends who treated me well. My daily expenses came from the HK$100 my mother left me each morning before her 12-hour cleaning shifts. Before leaving each day, she would always tell me, “If you can’t study well, then just find a proper job. Don’t keep wandering outside with bad people who’ll lead you astray!” But I treated those words like noise in the background, thinking, “How could I possibly run into bad people?”
After my mother left for work, I’d wander around the streets. I lived in a tenement building in Sham Shui Po, a neighborhood full of all kinds of people — locals, foreigners, both good and bad.
While hanging around at the billiard hall, I met a man called Brother Lung. He was well-known in the area, generous with his money, and always surrounded by women. He often took me to karaoke bars and discos for fun; he never seemed to work yet always had something going on. I really admired him. As time went on, we became closer. I followed him everywhere, ate and drank with him, and like the other younger guys, I started calling him “big brother.” I lived on whatever entertainment he treated us to, and sometimes I’d run errands or get into fights for him.
On June 12, 2023, everything changed. Following Brother Lung’s instructions, I was driven to Harbourfront Horizon Hotel in Hung Hom, where I delivered a bag to a guest room. I stayed there for two to three days, during which his friends taught me how to dilute drugs.
On June 14, 2023, police raided the room and arrested us. Terrified during interrogation, I repeated what the police told me to say. I was charged with trafficking one kilogram of cocaine and manufacturing drugs.
I’ve been in custody for about one year and nine months. My lawyer said I could face 22 years in prison, or over 13 years with a guilty plea reduction.
The thought of spending my best years behind bars — with no internet, no family, just repetitive routines and basic meals — fills me with despair.
The meals here are nowhere near as good as the food outside. I love meat, buffets, and hotpot — but none of that exists here. We’re only provided with two ounces of meat, white rice, vegetables, and plain tea each day. Every time I think about having to spend another 11 years here, it feels like walking down a dark road with no end. I’m terrified and weighed down by regret. For the fleeting pleasures of eating, drinking, and having fun, and for the seemingly generous reward of HK$5,000, I broke the law.
Now I realize how foolish that was. A simple and honest life — working, chatting, and laughing with colleagues — is now completely out of reach. But I hope that my experience can serve as a warning to young people around my age: don’t chase temporary pleasures or so-called “quick money.” If you try to take reckless shortcuts, the consequences you face will be something you can never bear. It’s never worth it.
Only after this incident did I truly understand how foolish the idea of “fast money” really is. Compared to your youth and freedom, those chances at easy profit aren’t your path to wealth — they’re temptations from the devil. Friends, never be as foolish as I was to accept such temptation, because it will only lead you to ruin with no turning back.
Note: This letter was translated and edited from the original in Chinese. Switch language to read the original version.