Restless lights flashed to the pounding rock music. Frenzied electric guitar, roaring bass, and hard-driving drums seized control of every person beneath the stage, making the crowd pump their fists and thrash their bodies.
“Don’t be afraid—we’re here!!! With so much anxiety and fear, I’ll definitely destroy the evidence!”
The lead singer threw one fist into the air and sang at the top of his lungs.
After finishing the last song, the lead singer stared down at the crowd, drenched in sweat and visibly exhilarated:
“Thanks for coming to see us today! We hope our music can give everyone courage and more, more, more strength. Looking forward to seeing you every time. Bye-bye!”
As soon as he finished, a stammering voice pierced through the crowd:
“When I grow up, I…I want to…to…be like…like Punk Wing Chun and save the world!”
The voice belonged to a child with a youthful, slightly garbled way of speaking and a determined gaze. Though the lighting was dim, it was easy to tell from his appearance that he had Down syndrome. The other audience members were amused by his innocent cuteness, and a wave of laughter broke out.
The lead singer, who was packing up equipment onstage, noticed the little commotion. He stopped what he was doing, walked offstage, and patted the child on the shoulder.
“Hey! My name’s A-Wan, and I’m the lead singer of Punk Wing Chun. If you want to save the world, you need a hero’s heart, but you also need the ability to rescue people. I believe you can do it. If you want to be as awesome as Punk Wing Chun, remember to watch Ip Man and learn martial arts.”
When he finished, he gave the child with Down syndrome a cool fist bump. After encouraging him, he turned around without a backward glance and returned to the stage to keep packing up.
As A-Wan walked away, the child struck a Ginyu Force pose and laughed loudly three times:
“A-Wan! I promise! I’ll get stronger! I’m going to call my martial arts Punk Wing Chun!”
Sure enough, chuuni syndrome could cure anything. The child with Down syndrome, who had been stammering just a second ago, had somehow finished that whole declaration in the coolest way possible.
“Ten years later…”
I’m A-Wan. I used to be the lead singer and guitarist of a band. Why do I say “used to”? Because the band went on indefinite hiatus, that’s why.
Now I’m a corporate slave who feels dead inside whenever I have to work. I have a beautiful wife and an adorable son. When I was very, very young, my father was obsessed with martial arts and was always forcing me to study them. Being the rebellious type, I loved learning only when I felt like it—which wasn’t often. Then a movie burst onto the scene and changed my view of martial arts, deepening my desire to learn. That movie was Ip Man, starring Donnie Yen.
My father was a martial-arts fanatic, and by coincidence, he went to Hong Kong for work when he was eighteen. Wing Chun also happened to be extremely famous back then because of Bruce Lee, so my dad actually traveled all the way to Hong Kong to study it. Thus, after watching Ip Man and having a massive chuuni syndrome outbreak, I—who had never trained seriously as a child—begged my dad to teach me Wing Chun. Who would’ve thought…that it would change my middle-aged life?
Although I know martial arts and long to get into street fights anytime, anywhere, aside from standing up for a friend in college and helping people when I happened to see someone in trouble, I’m actually pretty low-key. I don’t particularly want people looking at me funny. After all, I’m the brooding, secretly passionate type of guy. Even though I haven’t practiced much in years and now have a middle-aged spread, taking on ten men like Ip Man did in the movies is pretty much impossible. But I’m confident that dealing with one or two ordinary people would be more than enough.
“Trigger Condition”
It was an afternoon after the rain…
A-Wan’s family was out together, passing through a sparsely populated park. Several people with unsettling expressions kept sizing them up. Maybe because he had once practiced martial arts, some mysterious instinct for danger made A-Wan watch them warily.
A-Wan surveyed the surroundings and noticed a reasonably clean public restroom about twenty meters ahead. As expected, the group kept tailing his family. He secretly counted them: four in total. They all looked like highly agitated addicts, staring fixedly at A-Wan’s wife.
Once A-Wan realized how serious the situation was, he secretly gave his wife a look. She knew that expression all too well. It was one of the rare times her husband looked completely serious.
She said nothing. She hugged their sleeping son tighter, gritted her teeth, turned, and ran.
She didn’t dare look back.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. She knew that if she turned around and saw her husband standing alone against four men, her legs would go weak. She wouldn’t be able to run, and then her husband would get distracted by looking at her. That would be the end of everything.
So she ran for her life. Her slippers slapped against the wet tile as she shielded her son’s head with one hand and charged toward the public restroom without thinking about anything else.
She rushed into the last stall, locked it, and crouched down.
Her son was still asleep in her arms, his tiny breaths even and steady, as if nothing had happened. She hugged him a little tighter—and only then realized that her hands were shaking.
During those few seconds of silence, the scene from the instant she started running slowly rose in her mind. She had seen it, actually—not by looking back, but out of the corner of her eye when she turned. Her husband had blocked her from behind. His T-shirt was soaked through with sweat and clung to his back. His round body stood there with both arms slightly spread, as if he meant to block the entire path.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the gaps in the trees and landed perfectly on his sweat-soaked back, making it shine.
She had never known that the man who sprawled on the couch every day complaining about his aching lower back could have such broad shoulders from behind.
“Talk. What the hell do you want? You’ve been following my family for this long.” A-Wan’s authority made his anger unnecessary. He shook the extra weight on his body, assumed a Wing Chun stance, and kept his eyes locked on the four men as he slowly closed the distance.
One bearded addict silently pulled a fruit knife and grinned.
“We’re just a few ordinary people. Your wife and kid are pretty cute, so we wanted to have a little fun. Your ass is pretty nice too.”
His grin grew increasingly lecherous.
When A-Wan heard them call themselves ordinary people, a glimmer of excitement appeared in his eyes. If they were ordinary people, didn’t that mean they were within the range of what he could handle now?
Without hesitation, he launched a straight punch with a stance pivot, precisely striking the chin of the seemingly skinny addict who came charging forward with his fist raised. The addict staggered from the blow, fell to the ground, and began wailing loudly, which irritated A-Wan.
Before he could think, another addict grabbed him from behind in a bear hug, allowing the knife-wielding addict to stab him. A third addict took advantage of the opening and excitedly ran toward the public restroom where A-Wan’s wife was hiding. We’ll get back to that part later.
The camera cuts back to the knife, driving straight toward A-Wan’s long-untrained stomach. In an instant, A-Wan’s eyes sharpened. His agile body performed a stance pivot, causing the addict holding him to lose his grip and swing to the left. The knife that had been aimed at A-Wan’s stomach instead plunged squarely into the addict’s arm.
The stabbed addict rolled on the ground in pain. A-Wan, his expression growing angrier by the second, showed no mercy. He twisted sideways and kicked the knife-wielding addict into a nearby low shrub. With his family’s safety on his mind, A-Wan couldn’t be bothered to care whether they lived or died. He shook all that extra weight and sprinted toward the public restroom where his wife was hiding.
While she crouched in the last stall with her child, her hands still shaking, fear flooded her entire body. She didn’t even have time to call the police.
Suddenly, a low male voice called out playfully, “Guess who I am, ma’am,” repeating the words as he kicked open the restroom doors one by one. The first stall. The second. The third. Then the fifth, whose door wouldn’t open.
The low voice let out an eerie laugh.
“Found you. I’m going to treat you very well, ma’am.”
Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached, accompanied by ragged, breathless gasps.
“No, no, I need to catch my breath first. I haven’t exercised in way too long. I’m definitely going to start exercising when I get home.”
The frantic panting happened to interrupt the man’s voice.
“N-No way! How could an ordinary fat guy like you beat three people?”
“Now I’m taking down the fourth, ordinary man!”
With that, a backfist slammed straight into his forehead.
That breathless man was, of course…A-Wan.
“Wife, it’s me. I beat up all the bad guys. You can open the door now.”
When A-Wan’s wife opened the door, she saw her husband drenched in sweat and an unconscious addict sprawled on the floor.
“Honey, you can’t do something this dangerous again, okay? Our son and I were so scared!”
The camera quietly zoomed in on A-Wan’s son. He had actually been sleeping peacefully the entire time. A-Wan said nothing. Still panting, he pulled his wife and child into a tight embrace.
After resting for a while, A-Wan stared thoughtfully at a cart and an orange hose outside the restroom…
Not long afterward, the police station’s report center received an anonymous tip claiming that four addicts had gathered in the public restroom at some park to do drugs.
When the police arrived, they found four middle-aged men tied up with an orange hose, muttering repeatedly, “I’ve never seen a fat guy fight like that. His punches were too brutal and too fast. Fat bastard, don’t let me see you again.” Since the police found drug paraphernalia nearby, they took all four men in for questioning.
“Punk Wing Chun Is Here”
Ever since I used what I like to think of as my proudest ability in martial arts for self-defense last time, I’ve felt a little strange inside. The feeling of taking down bad guys was really great. Protecting people felt really good too. Those thoughts kept echoing in my heart, making me wonder whether I could use my strength to help people, just like Batman, the comic-book character I’d worshipped as a child.
On my way home from work that day, I happened to see five or six people—men and women—holding up their phones and recording something. Curious, I went over to take a look…
It turned out to be several fierce-looking thugs bullying a young woman. One side of her shirt sleeve had been torn away.
“What the hell are you people filming? Aren’t you going to call the police? Are you trying to be the kind of audience that just watches and doesn’t help?” A-Wan said, sounding a little indignant.
“We’re not some big heroes. At most, we can help collect evidence. Uploading the video later is already the best rescue we can offer. Since you’re so capable of running your mouth, why don’t you go save her?” one bystander replied disdainfully.
“It’s not like I don’t have the ability. It’s just that I promised my wife I wouldn’t do anything this dangerous again. But if nobody finds out it’s me, then it doesn’t count as dangerous, right?” A-Wan muttered.
After saying that, he walked thoughtfully back to the storage compartment of his scooter and searched for something.
“Finally found it. This is the skull mask I secretly bought before. I’ve never dared to take it out and wear it.”
With that, A-Wan went into an empty alley nearby and put on the mask.
In the footage recorded by the onlookers, a chubby figure suddenly burst into view and charged straight in front of the bullied woman.
“So many men bullying one woman and tearing her clothes? Are you filming an adult movie or something?”
“Who the hell do you think you are? She’s always acting all unavailable at the shop. Can’t we meet up privately and have some fun?” said the mohawked thug in charge, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
The phone in the chubby figure’s pocket began to vibrate. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. His wife was calling.
That’s right—the chubby figure was A-Wan again. But this time, he was A-Wan with his sense of justice awakened.
“Oh crap, my wife’s calling. No time to waste. I can’t be bothered to figure out who’s right or wrong.” A-Wan took a deep breath, his forehead breaking out in nervous sweat, and answered the call. “Hey, honey~ I’m coming home right now. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
After hanging up, A-Wan’s eyes sharpened again. He swept his gaze around the alley, which was roughly six meters long, with garbage carts on both sides. There were six thugs in total, and none of them had weapons. But they had probably spent enough time on the streets to develop decent physical conditioning, so they might not be easy to handle.
A-Wan figured he had to finish quickly. Otherwise, he would definitely get home late and get nagged by his wife.
The experience from his last fight had gradually awakened his body’s muscle memory, so this time he moved even faster and more viciously. After calculating the distance to each thug, he charged forward and hammered both palms into the centerlines of two of them, knocking them off balance. His left knee smashed into one thug’s head. When the other fell backward from losing his balance, A-Wan gave chase with a flurry of straight punches and slapping palms, taking both men down in one smooth sequence.
The remaining four thugs were stunned that anyone could fight so well. They instinctively retreated several steps toward the garbage carts, accidentally getting their hands on several pieces of lumber.
“Look! Let’s see whether your head is harder or my stick is harder! Beat this fat guy to death!” the leader shouted. Once he had a weapon, he felt invincible and ordered the others to kill A-Wan.
Three of the thugs raised their pieces of lumber and charged, yelling threats. They attacked A-Wan viciously from three different directions.
A-Wan slapped the arm of the nearest thug holding a piece of lumber, throwing off his balance. He quickly kicked the thug down, then followed up with a punch to the head to help him get some sleep.
In the blink of an eye, the other two thugs swung their lumber down hard. A-Wan used both arms to deflect the force, then seized one of the incoming pieces with a palm movement. He drove a front kick into the thug’s waist, making him lose his balance and crash into the other thug. Their sticks smacked together, leaving them staring at each other in confusion.
Taking advantage of the moment to even out the odds, A-Wan picked up the piece of lumber on the ground and tore off the shirt of the thug he had just put to sleep. A-Wan had a bit of a cleanliness obsession and worried the wood splinters might hurt him, so he calmly wrapped the lumber with the fabric.
Once A-Wan had a weapon in hand, his eyes actually began to shine.
“I used to be afraid of killing someone, so I never dared to hit people with a weapon. But this kind of situation is what Dad called a life-or-death fight, right?”
After his inner monologue ended, A-Wan seemed to flip a switch. Wielding the lumber, he used Wing Chun’s Eight-Slash Knife technique, landing every strike with frightening accuracy. His left and right hands worked together in a rapid chain of blows, focusing entirely on the other two thugs’ limbs. He attacked purely on instinct.
In the eyes of the two thugs, all that was reflected was fear, A-Wan’s solid body, and his rapidly moving hands. In their dazed minds, he seemed to transform into an asura from myth and legend.
Finally, after A-Wan’s relentless barrage, the two men were beaten into too much pain to fight back and joined the sleep squad.
The leader, leisurely smoking nearby, still hadn’t noticed that all his accomplices had been beaten down. A-Wan stepped toward him one slow step at a time.
“Sorry! I’m really in a hurry today, so I don’t feel like lecturing you. Anyway…don’t bully girls.”
A-Wan was still drenched in sweat. After saying this, he casually tossed aside the lumber, stepped in close with a stance pivot, and knocked the leader unconscious with a forearm chop followed instantly by a backfist. Then he took off the leader’s jacket.
“Miss, I don’t know anything about your grudge with them, but your clothes are torn. Put this on for now and hurry home.”
A-Wan handed her the jacket, glanced at his phone, and thought, Oh no. It’s been more than fifteen minutes.
He turned and ran off at a brisk pace.
The woman watched his chubby back with tearful eyes and shouted, “What’s your name? How can I thank you?”
A-Wan’s mind waged an intense battle. He wanted to say something cool, so…
“If you want to thank me, listen to more Taiwanese independent punk bands!”
He even started laughing as he said it.
The next day…
Because A-Wan had come home late after bravely rescuing someone the day before, his wife gave him an earful. He had no time to look at his phone. He hurriedly bathed his son, took a shower himself, and went to sleep.
When he arrived at work, he saw every coworker staring seriously at their phones and laughing. He didn’t think much of it, clocked in, and began dealing with work.
It wasn’t until lunch break that the office television aired a news report.
“Now we bring you this report, provided by an online tip submitted to Exposé Workshop. At approximately 5:40 p.m. yesterday, footage showed six men surrounding a woman and tearing the left sleeve of her shirt as they slowly closed in, shouting as if they were playing cat and mouse.
“At that moment, a masked man with a somewhat rounded build suddenly stepped forward. Using a series of martial-arts moves straight out of an action movie, he knocked down all six men. As he left, he shouted loudly, ‘If you want to thank me, listen to more Taiwanese independent punk bands!’
“This brave act of standing up for someone in trouble is truly worthy of praise. Many netizens have also said that the masked man was using Wing Chun from the famous martial-arts film Ip Man. He was also wearing a skull mask, which seems to connect him to the punk band he mentioned before leaving.
“Many netizens have said that if this brave masked man were to receive a heroic name, the most suitable one would be…Punk Wing Chun! Wow! That’s certainly a very creative name!”
After watching the report, A-Wan thought, I’m screwed. My wife is definitely going to kill me.
He finished lunch with an uneasy feeling in his heart…
During the afternoon break, A-Wan’s wife sent him a news report about the hero named Punk Wing Chun.
“Honey, look! This person’s hero name is exactly the same as your old band’s name. Could he be one of your former bandmates?”
A-Wan swallowed nervously, his face covered in sweat.
“It’s me. I stood up for someone yesterday.”
A-Wan still chose to be honest with his wife.
There was silence on the other end of the message for about five minutes.
“Got it, my big hero. Promise me you absolutely won’t get hurt, okay?”
A-Wan’s understanding wife replied and even left him a kiss sticker.
And so, this world gained a hero named Punk Wing Chun, who only found time to rescue people after work—with a round belly, charming monolids, and powerful arms.