Futile Devices Scans

Fate was seriously unfair. They had both injured their heads, yet He Chusan had to wrap his in a ridiculous turban like some “Indian A-san,” while Xia Liuyi only needed a single bandage strip. When he came to visit the set the next day, that bandage even had a crookedly scribbled “Xia” written on it.

He Chusan thought it looked idiotic, but the gang of underlings chorused in admiration, “Boss Liuyi, so stylish!”

Xia Liuyi sat cross-legged on the table, skillfully spearing fish paste siu mai with his left hand to eat. He couldn’t help shooting He Chusan an eye-roll. “What the hell are you staring at?!”

He Chusan stared at his right hand wrapped up like a rice dumpling and his arm mummified in bandages. He swallowed, then gathered his courage. “Does it… hurt?”

“The hell do you think?! Want me to chop your hand off so you can try it yourself?! Stop talking bullshit!”

“…Is your sister okay?”

Xia Liuyi paused, his expression turning cold.

“Is… ‘sister-in-law’ okay?” He Chusan hurriedly corrected himself.

Xia Liuyi speared another siu mai, still saying nothing.

He Chusan swallowed again, reading his expression. He figured Xia Liuyi wasn’t in a great mood, but the chances of him suddenly exploding and beating him up weren’t too high—so he pushed on bravely. “Thanks for yesterday.”

“Kid,” Xia Liuyi finally spoke, his face full of impatience.

He Chusan widened his eyes, waiting for what came next.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re working for me, which makes you my lackey. Taking care of my people is just part of the job. Once you finish this script, we won’t have shit to do with each other. Even if you drop dead on the street, I won’t spare you a glance. So shut the hell up right now! Say one more word of nonsense and I’ll rip your tongue out!”

“…”

A heart full of sincerity, flushed straight down the toilet.

A thug was still a thug. Saving your life didn’t magically turn him into a good person—such a simple truth, and he was only realizing it now.

So He Chusan said nothing more. He hunched over gloomily and continued scribbling dialogue. The beautiful heroine was tied up high on a platform, crying to the male lead fighting below, bathed in blood: Stop fighting, is it really worth it for me? The male lead coughed up blood and said: For you, anything is worth it.

Bullshit. You think he likes you? He just likes fighting, that’s all.

—He Chusan cursed silently in his heart, the first dirty thought of his life.

Forgive him. He had been a blank sheet of paper, pure and clean—but after spending these past few weeks in this filthy hellhole, constantly exposed to it, he’d inevitably picked up some bad habits.

…

After Xia Xiaoman caused a huge scene on set that day, she didn’t show up for a whole week. She sounded fine over the phone, but Xia Liuyi still wasn’t at ease. So one day, he took half a day off, left Flood Dragon Walled City, and went to visit her at Qinglong’s seaside villa.

Xia Xiaoman hadn’t expected him. She wasn’t wearing makeup, dressed in a sheer nightgown, looking fragile and melancholic—like she could be blown away by the sea breeze at any moment.

“Where’s the boss?” Xia Liuyi asked.

“He went out,” Xia Xiaoman said, leaning softly against her younger brother’s back, her gaze vacant. “He never comes home.”

“He’s busy,” Xia Liuyi said, patting her arm.

“And you? You’re busy too. You never come see me.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I? If you want to see me, just call—I’ll come right away.”

Using the excuse of going to the bathroom, he slipped out and quietly stopped the housekeeper. “Has madam been taking her medication?”

“She has, Boss Liuyi.”

“Really? She didn’t throw it away?”

“No. She’s been very obedient about taking it lately.”

When he returned, Xia Xiaoman was leaning against the windowsill like a wandering ghost, standing on tiptoe with her arms spread like a frail white swan.

“You went to ask about my medication, didn’t you?” she said. “I’ve been taking it properly.”

Xia Liuyi pulled her into an embrace.

“I really have,” she said, tilting her head back against his chest, playing with his eyelashes. “I’m fine… just annoyed. Annoyed that you all keep making me take medicine. Annoyed that you all treat me like I’m crazy. Annoyed that you never come see me. Annoyed that he…”

Her expression suddenly twisted as she burst into loud sobs. “A-Liu! Tell me honestly! Does he have someone else out there?! Waaaah… What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong? Why would he like someone else…”

Xia Liuyi gently patted her back. “He doesn’t have anyone else. He’s really just busy.”

“You’re lying…” she choked, crying harder. “I don’t blame you—I know you don’t want me to be sad, so you’re helping him lie… If he doesn’t have someone else, then why doesn’t he love me…?”

“Do you know, A-Liu?” she suddenly looked up, her expression eerily secretive, her eyes hollow as she clutched his arm tightly. “He hardly ever holds me. And when he does, I watch him very carefully—he’s thinking about someone else! He must be thinking about someone else! He can only hold me while thinking about someone else! Tell me—who is that bitch? That vixen?! What does she have that I don’t?! What did I do wrong?!”

“Sis…” Xia Liuyi stopped her frantic rambling, pressing her face against his chest. He sighed, gently stroking her hair. “You’re overthinking it. You’re tired. Get some rest. I’ll stay here with you until he comes back, alright?”

…

Late at night, Xia Xiaoman fell into a deep sleep, curled up tightly under the blanket. Xia Liuyi quietly left the room in the dark, closing the door behind him, and went downstairs to sit in the living room, smoking.

The sound of a car engine roared outside. Not long after, Qinglong entered, followed by several bodyguards.

Seeing Xia Liuyi there, a flicker of surprise passed through his eyes. He gestured subtly, and the bodyguards dispersed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I heard you were injured.”

Xia Liuyi looked up at him, scratching his head with his bandaged hand, saying nothing.

Qinglong didn’t mind. He calmly took off his suit jacket and draped it over him. “It’s late. Don’t go back. Sleep in the guest room.”

Xia Liuyi wore the jacket, still warm with his scent, and took another drag of his cigarette. “Boss… can you treat her better?”

Qinglong paused slightly. “I’ve done my best.”

“No, you haven’t,” Xia Liuyi said irritably, slamming the cigarette butt onto the table. “Look at what she’s become!”

Two bodyguards rushed in, alert.

Qinglong waved them off calmly, and they retreated.

He sat down beside Xia Liuyi. “I’ve given her the best life. Anything she wants, I give her. Everything a woman needs—she has it.”

“That’s not what a woman needs! You know that! Can’t you at least genuinely—”

“I can’t,” Qinglong said.

“You—” Xia Liuyi clenched his fists.

Qinglong simply looked at him in silence.

A bitter feeling rose in Xia Liuyi’ chest. Unable to meet his gaze, he lowered his head and took a hard drag of his cigarette. “…Then spend more time with her. Can you do that?”

Qinglong stood. “It’s late. Go to sleep. A-Hao, prepare a room.”

Xia Liuyi grabbed his arm from behind. “That’s all I’m asking! Just spend more time with her! Can you do that?!”

Qinglong stopped. After a long moment, he sighed, his expression softening again. Turning back, he ruffled Xia Liuyi’s hair.

“When have I ever refused you, if it’s something I can do? I’ll spend more time with her. Now go to sleep.”

He gently pried Xia Liuyi’s hand away.

…

He Chusan sat properly at the desk, pen in hand, writing diligently. Not far from his notebook was Xia Liuyi’s backside, tightly wrapped in jeans. If he lifted his head, he could even see his lean, powerful waist.

Xia Liuyi didn’t notice He Chusan’s wandering gaze. He was looking at Xia Xiaoman, a faint smile on his lips as he listened to her talk.

She had returned to filming. Today’s scene had her on a rooftop with the male lead, watching the stars—so she was dressed beautifully, like a blooming flower. Her smile was just as radiant as she clung softly to Xia Liuyi.

“He took me to Repulse Bay for Western food yesterday.”

“Was it fun?”

“Yes.”

“What did you eat?”

“Steak.”

He Chusan listened, utterly speechless, to the pointless chatter. The siblings were way too intimate—what kind of normal brother and sister hugged and clung to each other like that? If anything, Xia Liuyi looked more like an indulgent older brother doting on a younger sister.

He lowered his head and scribbled a few lines, but before long his mind began to wander again, and his gaze drifted to the side of his notebook—

—to Xia Liuyi’s ass.

So small. So perky. So round…

…God, he really wanted to haul him up and smack it a couple of times!

The sudden violent impulse shocked He Chusan to the core. He hurriedly shook his head and forced himself to keep writing.

…

Half a month later, filming finally wrapped. He Chusan regained his freedom and was “delivered” back near his home—dumped in a dark alley by a few burly men. As he was leaving, one of them called out harshly and shoved a thick paper bundle into his hands.

“Your script fee. From Boss Liuyi.”

Panting, He Chusan ran all the way home. He spread the bundle out on his bed and counted it under the dim candlelight—

A full twenty thousand.

That was enough to cover a whole year of living expenses for him and his father.

He could hardly believe it. Stuffing the money back into the wrapping, he hugged his schoolbag and rolled around on the bed twice in excitement—then suddenly froze.

This money came from the underworld. Drug dealing, gambling dens, nightclubs, murder and arson… He had worked for them and taken this much money. How was he any different from the runners at those “powder shops” on Bright Street in the Walled City?

His father had taught him since childhood to stay far away from the triads. His mother… his father said she died because of them.

The pounding of his heart abruptly cooled. Curling up on the bed, he stared blankly for a while before climbing down. He rummaged through his things and found the small metal box where he used to keep his childhood awards and certificates. Carefully, he folded the money into a crumpled lump and stuffed it inside.

He had missed an entire month of school—skipped several quizzes too—and had nearly been held back a year. But when he stood in the office and took off his shirt, revealing the scattered scars across his chest and arms, even the principal sighed and told him to focus on recovering and make up his studies later.

The principal knew this top student came from Flood Dragon Walled City. Something must have happened—something unjust he couldn’t speak about. That place was notorious as a lawless zone; calling the police was useless. The corrupt cops outside were already in bed with the big bosses inside. The detective inspector himself was sworn brothers with one of them.

Besides, He Chusan’s name was plastered loud and proud on the promotional posters of Xiaoqi Company’s new film—

Screenwriter: He Chusan!

Fortunately, his dentist father preferred Cantonese opera and newspapers, and had no interest in such newfangled things. Otherwise, he might’ve blown a gasket on the spot.

He Chusan went back to his quiet, uneventful life. Every day he carried his little schoolbag to class and study sessions, then made his way home in the dark at dusk to sleep. The only difference was that three nights a week and on weekends, he worked at Ah Wah’s ice café on the next street to earn tuition and miscellaneous fees. He also started learning tai chi from Uncle Ah Wah.

Uncle Ah Wah had drifted in from the mainland in the 1960s and claimed to be a fourth-generation inheritor of Yang-style tai chi. He Chusan had a weak constitution—bad from birth, worse from lack of training—and even after a month or two, he couldn’t smoothly complete even half a set of forms. But standing in horse stance for an hour every morning and slowly stretching his limbs did wonders—strengthening his body and calming his mind.

While his life remained peaceful, Xia Liuyi’s was surging forward.

After wiping out several of the Sha Family Gang’s operations, he opened a high-end nightclub in Mong Kok. Night after night, it buzzed with singing and dancing, attracting all sorts of shady characters. Once he secured his footing, and with Qinglong’s approval, he began planning to open several large discos to serve as retail fronts for his own “powder,” determined to make the already filthy entertainment industry even more rotten.

…

One day, he hosted several detective inspectors in a private room at his nightclub. The table was filled with beauties, drinks flowed freely, and the atmosphere was festive—until Xiao Ma came scrambling in.

Xia Liuyi gestured apologetically to the inspectors and followed him out into the corridor.

“Boss Liuyi, Boss Xu brought people.”

Xia Liuyi stubbed out his cigarette, expressionless. Before he could respond, a noisy group surged down the hallway. His security tried to block them, but after only a few words, one guard was sent flying, crashing to the ground at Xia Liuyi’s feet.

“Boss Xu,” Xia Liuyi said, looking at the man who had kicked him.

The man had sharp, hawk-like eyes. At first glance he seemed refined, but there was a sinister aura about him—like a wolf.

“Xiao Liu, this is where you’re in the wrong,” Xu Ying said, pulling out a cigarette as a subordinate lit it for him. “You invite Inspector Hua to dinner and don’t call me?”

Xia Liuyi brushed the subordinate’s hand aside and personally lit Xu Ying’s cigarette, his attitude properly deferential. “Boss Xu, I thought you were busy. Besides, Inspector Hua just came to sit for a while and have a simple meal.”

Xu Ying chuckled. “A simple meal.”

He pushed past Xia Liuyi and strode in, greeting loudly, “Long time no see, Inspector Hua! Oh, Inspector Liu’s here too! And this is—ah! Inspector Xu, newly promoted! Hahaha, a pleasure!”

The inspectors were all old acquaintances of his, and none seemed displeased by his sudden intrusion. After a few polite exchanges over drinks, Xu Ying said, “Inspector Hua, you’ve been in good spirits lately. Why haven’t you come by my place?”

“Xu Ying,” Inspector Hua replied with a sly smile, accepting the cigar and letting him light it, “now you’re just being formal. It’s all your Qinglong boss’s territory. Anywhere I go, it’s the same, isn’t it?”

Xu Ying burst out laughing. “Well said! All territory of our Xiaoqi Hall—Inspector Hua can sit wherever he likes! Come, a toast!”

While they drank and chatted inside, Xia Liuyi didn’t rush back in. He finished his cigarette quietly in the corridor, then called Xiao Ma over.

“How did Xu Ying know I invited Inspector Hua? How many people did you notify when you sent the invitations?”

“This…” Xiao Ma hesitated. “Could it be the brothers present today? Everyone saw Inspector Hua come in.”

“No. Xu Ying came too fast—he must’ve prepared in advance. Someone from yesterday’s group is his mole. Go check.”

“Yes.”

After some friendly exchanges, what had been Xia Liuyi hosting the inspectors turned into Xu Ying, the deputy hall master, “ordering” the younger Xia Liuyi to host on his behalf—firmly reinforcing his status as second-in-command. After asserting his dominance, Xu Ying claimed he had business, toasted each of them, and left in grand fashion.

Xia Liuyi saw him off calmly, then returned to the room as if nothing had happened.

“Gentlemen, tonight we drink well—and we’ll play well too. I’ve reserved rooms at Tanxiang Pavilion. How about we head there after dinner?”

…

Tanxiang Pavilion was a high-end private club under Xiaoqi Hall, located in Kowloon Tong. It wasn’t open to the public—members only. Gold membership cards were issued personally by the general manager, Cui Dongdong. Most members entered by card; a select few by face recognition.

Xia Liuyi didn’t even need that. Cui Dongdong had already arranged for someone to greet him at the entrance.

The group escorted the inspectors inside. The madam, dressed flamboyantly, welcomed them, while a lineup of popular hostesses posed enticingly for selection.

After respectfully escorting the inspectors into their rooms, Xia Liuyi turned to Cui Dongdong.

“Xu Ying stepped on my turf today.”

“Oh?” Cui Dongdong said, taking the cigarette he offered. They lit up side by side and walked toward the office.

Once inside, the door was closed. They sat across from each other on the sofas, smoke curling between them.

“I think there’s a mole among my people,” Xia Liuyi said. “You’re close to me, so be careful too. I can’t tolerate him anymore—I want to find a chance to break with him.”

Cui Dongdong, in her twenties, wore sunglasses and slicked-back hair like Xiao Ma’s. She looked every bit the sharp, capable boss—except her lips were an oddly vivid red.

She exhaled a stream of smoke, removed her sunglasses, and revealed a handsome yet slightly delicate face. Leaning back, she rested her hands behind her head, her shirt falling open slightly to reveal binding across her chest—

She was a woman.

“What’s Qinglong’s stance?” she asked, her voice naturally low and husky, hard to tell male from female.

Xia Liuyi exhaled. “The boss wants to suppress him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t have put me in charge of the nightclub.”

“Not necessarily,” Cui Dongdong said. “Qinglong gives you everything. Maybe he just dotes on you.”

Xia Liuyi’s gaze turned icy as he shot her a sharp look. She shrugged innocently. “Just kidding.”

“Be cautious,” she continued. “Xu Ying grew up with Qinglong. He’s been with him for twenty years and made major contributions when Qinglong rose to power. He has real prestige in the gang. Until Qinglong takes a clear stance, Xu Ying is still the deputy hall master—you can’t openly oppose him.”

“If I fall out with him, whose side will Cheng Dazui take?” Xia Liuyi asked.

Cheng Dazui—real name Cheng Siquan—was the “Straw Sandal” of Xiaoqi Hall. Among the younger generation, he wasn’t as capable or prominent as Xia Liuyi or Cui Dongdong, but he still held significant influence.

“Cheng Dazui?” Cui Dongdong shrugged again. “Haven’t heard from him in days. Who knows where the hell he is—maybe he’s dead.”

Xia Liuyi smoked in silence.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll go find him and sound him out for you. Don’t rush. With Qinglong around, Xu Ying won’t dare touch you.”

“I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried he’ll grow too powerful and turn on the boss.”

“He wouldn’t dare!”

Xia Liuyi shook his head. “He’s too self-serving. We can’t let our guard down.”

“By the way, how’s Xiaoman lately?”

Xia Liuyi glanced at her. “Not bad. More stable than before.”

“I had some calming incense brought back from Thailand. Take it to her for me.”

He didn’t tell her that the last batch she sent hadn’t even been opened—left to rot in a cabinet. He simply nodded. “Mm.”

“Xiao He’s waiting for you. Going?”

“Mm.”

…

Xiao He stood quietly at the door of the private room. When she saw Xia Liuyi approaching with a few subordinates, she lowered her head in greeting. He waved the others away and pulled her inside.

He was her regular—more precisely, he only ever went to her room. Usually once or twice a month. Not frequent, but always consistent.

Cui Dongdong had once urged him to simply keep her exclusively, but Xia Liuyi said he had too many enemies—it would only put her in danger.

They bathed separately, changed clothes, and Xiao He turned on the record player by the bed.

Then they lay down.

Side by side.

Listening to music.

Yes—that was all. Her job was simply to lie there with him for two hours and listen. From Audrey Hepburn’s Moon River to Dan Fogelberg’s Longer. They didn’t understand a single lyric, but that didn’t matter—the melodies were enough.

She came from Flood Dragon Walled City. Xia Liuyi had once saved her from a brutal beating by thugs. She was utterly loyal, sensible, quiet, and incurious. She never asked why he never touched her—whether it was due to some condition or simply a lack of interest in women.

Each month, they lay here, each getting what they needed. He needed her as a cover; she needed him as protection. Because of him, Cui Dongdong treated her well, giving her double her monthly share. Even so, she never told Cui Dongdong the truth—never told anyone. She intended to carry the secret to her grave.

The soft, gentle voice from the record player washed away Xia Liuyi’s exhaustion. Stretching out, he folded his arms behind his head, let out a long breath—and fell asleep.

Several kilometers away, in Flood Dragon Walled City, He Chusan also slept peacefully, still in his clothes.

He had just received his wages for the past month. At this rate, he could save up half his tuition before next semester. The rest he’d have to ask his father for—and borrow a bit from neighbors.

His father wouldn’t blame him.

He would use the money to study hard. He believed he had chosen the best field—once he graduated, he would earn big money and repay his father.

His dreams were nothing like Xia Liuyi’s.

No schemes. No power struggles. No love or hatred. No dark past or chaotic present. No unspoken feelings or unavoidable doom.

Only dreams of the future—

A quiet, peaceful, clean future.

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