Cantonese Dictionary Vol. 123: 12 Cantonese Money, Rich & Broke Words Every Hong Konger Uses Daily

Hong Kong wet market street stall at dusk with vendors and produce

Hong Kongers may be known for working hard, but they talk about money even harder. From the taxi uncle complaining about his 荷包 getting thinner to a Mong Kok auntie bragging about her son's 身家, money vocabulary is woven into daily Cantonese conversation in ways English never quite captures. Volume 123 covers 12 of the most-used Cantonese words for being rich, being broke, being stingy, being generous, and hustling for every last dollar.

If you've ever heard someone call themselves 孤寒 with a straight face, or watched a yum cha table argue over the bill using words that sound like water and mosquitos, this list is for you. Pair it with our earlier Vol. 122 workplace slang guide — because every money word in Cantonese eventually loops back to how you earned it.

Hong Kong wet market street stall at dusk with vendors and produce
A Kowloon street market stall — where every money word in this list gets spoken out loud — Photo via Pexels

The 12 Cantonese money words you'll hear every day in Hong Kong

1. 窮

kung4  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Poor; broke; strapped for cash.

Explanation: The straight-ahead, formal word for "poor". Not slangy, not funny — just honest. Hong Kongers use it when they mean actually broke, not just complaining before payday. In diaspora households it also carries a quiet weight: parents who built up from 窮 rarely stop reminding you how far the family came.

In real life: 「我而家好窮,下個月出糧先。」— "I'm really broke right now, let's wait till payday next month."

2. 水

seoi2  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Money, in slang form. Literally the character for "water".

Explanation: Possibly the most important slang swap in Hong Kong. Money "flows like water" — in and out — so cash became 水. You'll see it in compound after compound: 回水 (refund), 磅水 (hand over cash), 掠水 (rip someone off).

In real life: 「夠水未?唔夠就同我講。」— "Got enough cash? Let me know if you're short."

3. 蚊

man1  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Dollar (as a counter). The character literally means "mosquito".

Explanation: No one really knows why the mosquito character became the Cantonese counter for dollars — some linguists point to older folk associations with the small, buzzing nuisance of coins. 一蚊 = one dollar, 十蚊 = ten dollars. The written form 文 (also man1) is more formal but far rarer in daily conversation.

In real life: 「兩杯凍檸茶,四十蚊。」— "Two iced lemon teas, forty bucks."

4. 一嚿水

jat1 gau6 seoi2  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: One hundred dollars. Literally "one lump of water".

Explanation: A piece of HK$100 cash is a "lump" of water — a solid chunk of the flowing stuff. Related expressions scale up: 一盤水 (jat1 pun4 seoi2) is ten thousand, and 一條水 (jat1 tiu4 seoi2) is a thousand. These are all casual, used among friends and at markets but never in formal settings.

In real life: 「件衫兩嚿水,抵唔抵?」— "The shirt is two hundred bucks. Is it worth it?"

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5. 荷包

ho4 baau1  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Wallet; by extension, your personal spending budget.

Explanation: Originally meant the embroidered pouches worn on belts in imperial China. In modern Hong Kong it covers both the physical wallet and the metaphorical health of your finances. "傷荷包" (soeng1 ho4 baau1) — "hurting the wallet" — is a top-tier complaint word.

In real life: 「依家樣樣嘢加價,荷包真係頂唔順。」— "Everything's going up these days, my wallet really can't take it."

6. 身家

san1 gaa1  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Net worth; total personal fortune.

Explanation: Literally "body-family" — the sum of everything a person is worth. Hong Kong aunties use 身家 as a casual-but-pointed way to compare, size up, or gossip about anyone's financial standing. It's the word behind every "佢身家過億" ("he's worth over a hundred million") headline.

In real life: 「嗰個阿叔,話晒都有返咁上下身家。」— "That uncle, say what you want, he's got some decent money."
Vibrant neon lights of a Hong Kong street at night with Chinese signage
Hong Kong at night — where every "一嚿水" transaction happens in daylight and in neon — Photo via Pexels

7. 揸兜

zaa1 dau1  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Literally "holding a bowl" — begging, or being so broke you might as well be begging.

Explanation: The image is of a street beggar holding out a bowl for coins. Used informally among friends to joke about financial ruin ("I'm going to be 揸兜 by the end of the month"), but harsher in serious contexts. Can also mean unemployed, since no job = holding a bowl.

In real life: 「再亂洗錢你就要揸兜啦。」— "Keep spending recklessly and you'll be out on the street soon."

8. 孤寒

gu1 hon4  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Stingy; miserly; penny-pinching to the point of embarrassment.

Explanation: Literally "lonely-cold" — the full idiom 孤寒財主 (gu1 hon4 coi4 zyu2) describes the archetypal Scrooge: a wealthy old man who refuses to spend a cent. Shortened to 孤寒, it's a daily-use adjective for anyone splitting the bill down to the dumpling. The teasing cousin of 慳.

In real life: 「唔好咁孤寒啦,請一餐都唔會死。」— "Don't be so stingy, buying one meal won't kill you."

9. 慳家

haan1 gaa1  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Thrifty in a positive way; good at managing the household budget.

Explanation: The polite flipside of 孤寒. 慳 means "to save", and 慳家 is the Hong Kong compliment for someone who stretches every dollar wisely — mums, especially. Where 孤寒 says "cheap," 慳家 says "smart with money". The difference is intent: thrift for the family versus thrift for yourself.

In real life: 「阿媽好慳家,次次都買街市嘅餸。」— "Mum is really thrifty — she always shops at the wet market."

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10. 大花灑

daai6 faa1 saa2  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: A big spender; someone who spends money like water from a shower head.

Explanation: Literally "big shower-head" — the mental image is of money gushing out uncontrollably. Can be admiring ("he treats everyone, what a 大花灑") or disapproving ("you're such a 大花灑, no wonder you're broke"). The casual variant 大花筒 (daai6 faa1 tung2) uses "big bamboo tube" with the same meaning.

In real life: 「佢真係大花灑,一個禮拜買咗三個手袋。」— "She's such a big spender — three handbags in one week."

11. 揾食

wan2 sik6  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: To earn a living; literally "looking for food".

Explanation: One of the most Cantonese words on this entire list. Earning a living isn't a career — it's hunting for enough food to survive another day. The phrase 揾食艱難 ("earning a living is tough") is practically a Hong Kong proverb, muttered at the end of long shifts across the diaspora. If you're 揾食, you're doing what you have to.

In real life: 「大家都係揾食啫,幫幫手啦。」— "We're all just trying to make a living, give us a hand."

12. 睇餸食飯

tai2 sung3 sik6 faan6  —  Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Cut your coat according to your cloth; live within your means. Literally "look at the dishes before eating the rice".

Explanation: A proverbial piece of Cantonese household wisdom — before you dig in, see how much food is on the table and portion accordingly. It's the Cantonese way of telling you not to overcommit, overspend, or outplay your current hand. Every Hong Kong parent has used this one on a child begging for a new phone.

In real life: 「做人要睇餸食飯,唔好咩都想要。」— "You've got to live within your means, you can't want everything."
Merchandise display in a Hong Kong market stall
A Hong Kong market stall display — the physical form of 身家 across generations — Photo via Pexels

Why so many Cantonese money words?

Hong Kong is a city where generations of refugees arrived with nothing, built fortunes in two decades, and lost them in one bad bet. Money moves fast, so money vocabulary has to keep up. That's why the same person can be 孤寒 at breakfast, a 大花灑 at dinner, and 揸兜 by Monday morning — and still find the exact right word for each state.

The real tell, though, is 揾食. No English equivalent — "making a living" — carries the hunger inside it. The hunger is the point. Hong Kongers made it to global diaspora cities with the clothes on their backs and the knowledge that food has to be found daily. Even today, that word is how a Vancouver dim sum chef and a Sydney accountant and a London Uber driver all describe the same thing. Pair this list with our Vol. 115 commute phrases guide and you'll have the full daily grind in Cantonese.

If "慳家" sounds a bit too much like your mum, our 是但 Whatever oversized tee is the attitude you want when the family group chat starts calculating next year's Chinese New Year red packet budget.

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