SAD NEWS: Hong Kong’s Gentle Giant Benz Hui, 77, Quietly Slips Away After Hidden Cancer Fight: The Everyman Who Gave Us Laughter Through Tears – Why Was His Final Scene Played in Silence?
In the dim glow of a Hong Kong hospital room at 2:30 a.m. on October 28, 2025—just seven days shy of his 77th birthday—Benz Hui Shiu-hung, the unassuming heart of Cantonese cinema, drew his last breath. Ravaged by a cancer he concealed from all but his innermost circle, the “King of Supporting Actors” faded without fanfare, surrounded by family and a handful of tear-streaked friends. No red carpets, no spotlights—just the steady beep of machines giving way to silence. His passing from multiple organ failure, confirmed by close friend and TV host Maria Luisa Leitao, has left Hong Kong’s entertainment world reeling, prompting whispers of regret: Why did the industry that thrived on his warmth offer only shadows in his final act?
Hui’s secret battle embodied the man himself: stoic, selfless, shy. Diagnosed months earlier, he confided only in wife Angeli Lung and daughter Charmaine, 28, shielding colleagues from the truth to avoid burdening them. “He fought hard till the end,” goddaughter Charmaine Sheh later choked out, her voice cracking in a Weibo post that amassed 1.2 million views by noon. Sheh, who flew from Macau after canceling a Beijing shoot, had visited the night before, holding his hand as he labored on an oxygen mask. “He was like a father to me—always teasing, always kind,” she wrote, recalling their on-screen chemistry in *Line Walker* and *Themis*. Comedian Dayo Wong, another bedside vigil-keeper, shared a gut-wrenching photo of himself beside Hui’s bed, captioning it: “My brother, you taught me to laugh through the pain. Rest now—no more scripts.” The image, showing Wong’s bowed head, went viral, sparking #BenzGor trends with 850,000 posts on Weibo.
Born in Guangzhou in 1948, Hui immigrated to Hong Kong at 10, his family’s modest means a far cry from the glamour he’d later grace. Earning his “Benz” moniker in the 1970s for rolling up to TVB’s inaugural artiste training class in a borrowed Mercedes, he debuted in 1972’s *Warriors of the Yang Clan*, but true stardom eluded him as a lead. Instead, Hui became the everyman glue in over 165 films and countless dramas, his shy smile and quiet courage stealing scenes from giants. In 1979’s *The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly*, he bantered with a young Chow Yun-fat, forging a bond that lasted decades. Chow, arriving at the hospital in all black on October 28, placed a trembling hand on Hui’s— a silent tribute from one legend to another, captured in paparazzi shots that broke hearts citywide.
Hui’s genius lay in duality: comedy’s goofy dad in 2009’s *Love Undercover*, where his bumbling patriarch drew belly laughs amid family chaos; drama’s weary cop in *Line Walker* (2014-2020), his Foon Hei Gor a fan-favorite anti-hero whose moral ambiguity mirrored Hong Kong’s own grit. That role snagged him TVB’s Most Popular Male Character in 2014, while *Bounty Lady* (2013) earned Best Supporting Actor. Off-screen, his optimism shone: “The most important thing is to be happy—cherish those around you,” he’d say in interviews, a mantra from his semi-retired Singapore days supporting daughter Charmaine’s wedding to banker Shane Sim in 2023. Yet fans noted his June 2025 Guangzhou walk—panting on flat ground—as early whispers of illness, dismissed then as age.
The silence of his exit stings deepest. Admitted October 27 in critical condition at Hong Kong Sanatorium, Hui’s hospitalization drew a constellation of stars: Michael Miu and Jaime Chik, Bosco Wong, Raymond Lam, Ron Ng—TVB’s old guard rushing to his side. But no public plea for prayers, no benefit gala. “He didn’t want pity,” Leitao explained, her voice thick with emotion. “Benz was private—his fight was his own.” Critics murmur of ingratitude: Hong Kong’s glitzy awards overlooked him for leads, relegating the man who’d humanized heroes to “supporting” status. “He deserved a nation’s embrace,” one Weibo user lamented, echoing Sheh’s sobs. Dayo Wong, in a raw IG Live, choked: “We laughed till we cried on set. Now, it’s just tears.”
Hui leaves Angeli, stepson, and Charmaine—his “greatest roles,” as he quipped at her 2024 Singapore vow renewal. Funeral details pending, but tributes flood in: Shu Qi’s “eternal smile,” Elena Kong’s “quiet giant,” Sharon Chan’s “life’s unpredictability.” As fans light virtual candles online, the question lingers: In an industry of stolen spotlights, why did Hong Kong’s everyman exit in shadows? Perhaps because, like his characters, Benz Hui didn’t need applause—he needed only the love he so freely gave. Through laughter and tears, his legacy endures: not in curtain calls, but in the hearts he warmed. Rest easy, Benz Gor. Your final scene was perfect—profoundly, painfully human.
