In James Clavell novels, Hong Kong people have names such as 'Four-Finger Wu'. But Wu is not a Cantonese surname, the word-order is wrong, and Finger is not a middle name. Yet he got one part right. There are many people called Four.
Number names really exist. I sometimes tell the tale of one worthy gentleman in Hong Kong whose name is Three. He was the third son of his parents, who were not overly creative souls. It sounds better in Cantonese, since Saam sounds like he is using the Western name Sam, quite popular in Hong Kong thanks to pop stars like Sammi.
Unfortunately, this particular Three has the family name Ng, so his full name - Ng Sam - sounds like Five Three. One can just imagine the conversation on his first day of kindergarten.
'What's your name?' 'Three.' 'No sweetie, that's your age. What's your name?' 'Three.' 'Never mind, I'll ask your folks. Which mummy and daddy are yours?' 'Five.' In large families in China, it is not unusual to be introduced to a family thus: 'Good morning. I'm Twelve. This is my brother Eleven and my sister Eight.' The late Shanghainese shipping tycoon, Sir Yue-kong Pao, gave his four children names with initials in alphabetical order, so he could remember the order in which they were born.
In this region, children usually start off with a baby nickname, known as a milk name, which is just one syllable. If you are born south of the Yangtze, the prefix 'Ah' was traditionally added, so you became Ah-Lum, for example. North of the river, Hsiao (Little) is added. The name Deng Xiaoping could thus be read as 'Little Ping of the Deng family'.
Some Chinese communities deliberately give unattractive names to boys, believing that they will thus not attract the interest of evil spirits. 'Puppy' is common in China. The same parents dress their boys up as girls, or give them jewellery in the shape of a dog-collar. Some minority tribes name their sons 'Rat' and 'Turd'.