Cantonese Dictionary Vol. 58: 10 Money & Cash Words Every Hong Konger Grew Up Counting

August 15, 2026

Neon signs illuminate a Hong Kong street at night, reflecting off wet pavement

In Hong Kong, nobody asks "how much does this cost?" — they ask "幾多錢啊?" And when the answer comes back, it's rarely just a number. It's a word soaked in a hundred years of hustle: dockworker slang, cha chaan teng banter, market-vendor shorthand, and the quiet philosophy of a city where everyone's chasing a bowl of rice. This is Cantonese money talk — and it tells you more about Hong Kong than any economics textbook ever could.

Vibrant Hong Kong street lit up with neon signs advertising shops and restaurants — Every neon sign is a promise — and a price. Hong Kong's streets are where money and language collide. — Photo via Pexels

10 Cantonese Money Words Every Hong Konger Knows by Heart

1. 錢

cin4 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Money — the base word, the classical character, the one you'll see printed on every red packet.

Explanation: This is the formal word for money, but Cantonese speakers rarely use it alone in conversation. It gets combined with other words to talk about specific kinds of money — pocket money, lucky money, spending money — while everyday amounts get called by their slang cousins.

In real life: "我冇錢啊。" (Ngo5 mou5 cin4 aa3.) — "I've got no money." The universal Hong Kong sigh at the end of the month.

2. 蚊

man1 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Dollar. Yes — literally the character for "mosquito."

Explanation: The story goes that "man1" was borrowed from the older character 文 (a small coin unit), then swapped over time to the mosquito character because it shared the sound. In everyday Cantonese, nobody says "one Hong Kong dollar" — they say "一蚊" (jat1 man1). It's the currency of dai pai dong bills and MTR fares.

In real life: "呢個幾多錢啊?" "廿蚊。" ("Ni1 go3 gei2 do1 cin4 aa3?" "Jaa6 man1.") — "How much is this?" "Twenty bucks."

3. 一舊水

jat1 gau6 seoi2 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: One hundred Hong Kong dollars (slang). Literally "a lump of water."

Explanation: "Water" (水) has meant money in Cantonese slang for generations — money flows, money runs dry, money is what keeps a city alive. A "lump" (舊) of it is a HK$100 note. You'll hear it at mahjong tables, market stalls, and anywhere someone's counting cash they'd rather not name aloud.

In real life: "借我一舊水,聽日還你。" (Ze3 ngo5 jat1 gau6 seoi2, ting1 jat6 waan4 nei5.) — "Lend me a hundred, I'll pay you back tomorrow." The oldest promise in Hong Kong.

4. 荷包

ho4 baau1 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: Wallet, purse — but also, metaphorically, your entire financial situation.

Explanation: Originally a small embroidered pouch worn on the belt, "ho4 baau1" now covers everything from your leather billfold to your bank account's general vibe. When someone says their "荷包" is thin, they don't mean the wallet — they mean the situation.

In real life: "最近荷包好乾。" (Zeoi3 gan6 ho4 baau1 hou2 gon1.) — "My wallet's been really dry lately." Meaning: I'm broke.

Neon sign glowing over a Mong Kok street in Hong Kong at night with Chinese characters — Mong Kok after dark — where cash still moves faster than any app. — Photo via Pexels

5. 慳錢

haan1 cin4 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: To save money by spending less — the everyday Cantonese verb for being thrifty.

Explanation: "Haan1" is one of the great Cantonese verbs. It's not just "save" — it's the daily discipline of a city that turned frugality into a personality trait. Bring your own bags. Eat at home twice this week. Take the bus instead of the taxi. That's "慳."

In real life: "行路返屋企,慳返廿蚊車錢。" (Haang4 lou6 faan1 uk1 kei2, haan1 faan1 jaa6 man1 ce1 cin2.) — "Walk home and save twenty bucks on transport." A very Hong Kong sentence.

6. 蝕本

sit6 bun2 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: To lose money in business or on a deal. Literally "the capital gets eaten."

Explanation: The character 蝕 originally described insects gnawing away at something. When a Cantonese speaker says a deal is "蝕本," they mean the profit didn't just vanish — it was eaten alive. Market vendors, small-business owners, and anyone who's ever tried to flip a side hustle knows this word intimately.

In real life: "呢單生意蝕晒本。" (Ni1 daan1 saang1 ji3 sit6 saai3 bun2.) — "This deal lost every cent of the capital."

7. 老千

lou5 cin1 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: A con artist, a cheat, a swindler.

Explanation: Hong Kong cinema built an entire genre out of this word — the God of Gamblers films and dozens of others made the "lou5 cin1" into a folk figure. In real life, it's what your auntie calls the guy running the shady stall in Sham Shui Po. Wear it as a warning, never a compliment.

In real life: "小心啲,佢係老千嚟㗎。" (Siu2 sam1 di1, keoi5 hai6 lou5 cin1 lai4 gaa3.) — "Watch out — that guy's a con artist."

8. 老襯

lou5 can3 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: A sucker — someone who gets easily fooled or overcharged.

Explanation: If "lou5 cin1" is the con artist, "lou5 can3" is the mark. Cantonese speakers use it constantly — usually with a sigh, sometimes with a laugh — to describe the friend who paid tourist price for the same jade bracelet you got at half. Nobody wants to be the "lou5 can3."

In real life: "你畀咁多錢,做老襯呀?" (Nei5 bei2 gam3 do1 cin2, zou6 lou5 can3 aa4?) — "You paid that much? Are you being a sucker?"

9. 搵食

wan2 sik6 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: To earn a living. Literally "to find food."

Explanation: No other Cantonese phrase captures the Hong Kong working spirit quite like this one. It's not "to build a career" or "to pursue a dream" — it's simply to find your next meal. Taxi drivers, waiters, bankers, and billionaires all say it. It's honest. It's dignified. It's the shared vocabulary of a city that never stops hustling.

In real life: "而家搵食艱難啊。" (Ji4 gaa1 wan2 sik6 gaan1 naan4 aa3.) — "Making a living is tough these days." The most Hong Kong sentence ever spoken.

10. 米飯班主

mai5 faan6 baan1 zyu2 — Jyutping romanisation

Meaning: The person or thing your livelihood depends on. Literally "the rice-bowl boss."

Explanation: A gorgeous piece of Cantonese poetry hiding in plain sight. Your "米飯班主" is whoever keeps rice in your bowl — a client, a boss, a big customer, a loyal fan base. Actors call their audience their 米飯班主. Freelancers whisper it about their best client. To acknowledge someone as your 米飯班主 is to give respect where it's due.

In real life: "觀眾就係我嘅米飯班主。" (Gun1 zung3 zau6 hai6 ngo5 ge3 mai5 faan6 baan1 zyu2.) — "The audience is my rice-bowl boss." Something every Hong Kong performer eventually says.

Why This Matters

Every one of these words tells you the same story from a different angle: money in Cantonese is never abstract. It's mosquitoes and lumps of water. It's wallets running dry. It's the boss whose payments keep the rice cooking. That's not just slang — that's a whole worldview, worn smooth by a century of dockworkers, market aunties, and cha chaan teng waiters counting change.

If you want more Cantonese street language, our earlier MTR & transport dictionary covers the words you'll hear on every commute, and the friendship & brotherhood volume teaches the words people use with the friends they'd lend their last 一舊水 to.