Futile Devices Scans

He Chusan deliberately put on a face mask and clattered downstairs.

A regular patient waiting for his father to pull a tooth was sitting in the shop, a wad of cheap cotton stuffed in his mouth. He mumbled, “A-San? Not going to school today?”

“He’s got a cold—resting at home, haha!” the dentist quickly chimed in, playing along with the mask. He’d been scared shitless today, and with a “living Buddha” hidden upstairs, he hadn’t even wanted to open shop. But He Chusan insisted that suddenly closing would raise suspicion. So father and son cleaned up the bloodstains early in the morning and opened for business as usual.

After greeting the man hoarsely, He Chusan hurried out, turned into the neighboring snack stall, and bought a large bowl of curry beef offal. Steam billowed as he carried it back.

“Eating offal with a cold?” the customer mumbled.

“Why not?! Beef offal nourishes qi and blood—it’s top-grade meat!” the dentist said hurriedly.

Since when is offal meat…? He Chusan shot his father a speechless look. The man was so nervous he was bound to slip up sooner or later.

The dentist really was on edge—so tense he practically wanted to run into the street banging a gong and shouting, “There is absolutely no one hiding on my second floor!”

He watched his son carry the food upstairs, feeling like his lungs were about to burst from holding it all in.

He Chusan helped Xia Liuyi sit up to eat.

Xia Liuyi’s back was covered in knife wounds. Leaning crookedly against the wall, supporting himself with his uninjured arm, he ate expressionlessly.

Meanwhile, He Chusan squatted back down and continued studying.

Xia Liuyi inhaled the food in no time, finishing the entire bowl. As if finally recovering a bit, he let out a long breath, leaned back against the wall in a daze, then suddenly said:

“Water.”

He Chusan poured him a large cup and helped him drink it.

Then, like some goddamn lord, he added:

“Cigarettes.”

This time, He Chusan shook his head. “No cigarettes. You’re injured—you can’t smoke.”

“Fuck!” Xia Liuyi snapped. “Cigarettes!”

He watched as this damn “Indian Ah-San” stiffened his neck stubbornly and went right back to reading, completely ignoring him.

Xia Liuyi glared for a while, got bored, and leaned back again.

The two of them stayed silent—

And somehow spent the entire morning like that, in uneasy peace.

By noon, He Chusan closed his book, stretched, and asked, “Want anything to eat?”

“Beef offal.”

He Chusan dug out the “manuscript fee” Xia Liuyi had once given him from a small tin box, went downstairs, and came back with three full bowls.

The snack stall owner was starting to suspect someone had dumped a bag of drugs into her pot—how else could it be this addictive?

While eating, Xia Liuyi observed the room.

It was less than ten square meters. Aside from the bed, there was only a large stool and a smaller one used as a table, plus a bookshelf in the corner. The washed-out white curtains were drawn, hiding whatever lay outside.

Books were piled everywhere—on the shelf, by the bed, even on the floor. Most were old and yellowed, likely scavenged from secondhand stalls. A few thick volumes looked new and well-kept.

He Chusan carefully put those borrowed from the school library into his shabby backpack, then set a bowl on the stool—rice, two thin slices of char siu, and a fried egg.

“Hey,” Xia Liuyi said, gesturing at the remaining bowl of offal. “Don’t want it anymore.”

He Chusan walked over, dumped it into his own bowl, stirred the broth, and started slurping it down.

After finishing this long-missed hearty meal, he went downstairs, scooped half a ladle of water from the large vat, and meticulously washed the dishes before returning upstairs.

Xia Liuyi still looked like a lifeless corpse.

Unable to hold back, He Chusan asked, “Are you being hunted? What did you do?”

Without even looking at him, Xia Liuyi replied curtly:

“None of your fucking business.”

Same old gangster attitude.

He Chusan wisely shut up, packed his bag, and went out to attend class.

For three whole days, Xia Liuyi lay there like a dead man.

Other than “beef offal,” “fish balls,” “cheong fun,” “chicken feet,” “crab roe buns,” and “fuck your mother! Cigarettes!”—he didn’t say a single extra word.

On the third night, the dentist came upstairs after closing to change his dressings. Seeing the pile of food bags, skewers, and leftovers, he exploded:

“You’ve been eating nothing but offal these days?! What’s this—curry fish balls? And spicy food?! Ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! Did you drink the medicinal broth I made yesterday?”

“He didn’t. Said it was bitter—told me to dump it,” He Chusan answered honestly.

The dentist, possessed by a healer’s righteous fury, jabbed his son in the forehead. “All you do is study! He says something and you obey? That hoodlum’s uneducated—are you too?! You brought him home! If he dies, where are you going to dump the body? Let it rot here?!”

Xia Liuyi, half-dozing, cursed irritably and tried to block his ears.

Only to have the dentist suddenly grab his chin!

His eyes widened.

With practiced precision, the man pried his mouth open and stuck his fingers in, pinching and pulling out his tongue.

“Look!” he said to He Chusan. “See that? Thick coating—white and greasy with yellow. Liver fire’s too strong, qi and blood deficient, malnourished. And these teeth—tsk tsk! Filthy! Covered in plaque!”

“He hasn’t rinsed his mouth these past few days,” He Chusan reported.

“Days?! This isn’t from just days! He must eat and go straight to sleep without brushing! Look at these molars—almost rotted to the root!”

Shaking his head, the dentist dragged his worn tool pouch to the front. “Hold him down. I can’t stand this—let me fix his teeth.”

“Mmm—mm—mm!” Xia Liuyi struggled violently, but with his tongue pinned, he couldn’t pull free.

Just as he tried to push himself up—

That “damn Indian Ah-San” leapt forward decisively, following his father’s orders. In one swift move, he wrapped Xia Liuyi up in a blanket like a French baguette, flipped him over, and sat squarely on his waist.

“MMPH! MMPH—!!!”

An hour later, the dentist went downstairs holding several blackened rotten teeth, sighing in satisfaction.

Xia Liuyi lay on the bed, mouth stuffed with cheap cotton, drool dripping all over his neck—utterly miserable.

He couldn’t believe he’d suffered such humiliation.

He slammed the bed once in fury.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw He Chusan, back turned, pretending to study—his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Xia Liuyi tried to curse—

Only for a flood of saliva to pour out.

Go on, laugh, he thought viciously. You little bastard. Playing dumb, snitching behind my back—just waiting to laugh at me. When I can move again, I’ll deal with you properly.

He Chusan was laughing so hard tears came out. He wiped them discreetly, stood up, and said seriously:

“I’m going to make soup. Dad said from now on you can only have soup and porridge.”

Xia Liuyi punched the bed again.

Tiger fallen to the plains, eaten by dogs.

After being “treated” by the father and son, Xia Liuyi seemed to regain some life from sheer rage. He shed that corpse-like gloom, turning cynical and brimming with killing intent.

But he was badly injured.

Forget holding a knife—he couldn’t even lift chopsticks. Cotton stuffed in both cheeks, newly treated teeth aching like cacti, he couldn’t even curse properly.

His combat power had dropped to absolute trash.

Meanwhile, Xiaoqi Hall’s men were searching every alley of Jiaolong Walled City. Sometimes their shouts could even be heard faintly outside the window.

Unable to go out and slaughter his enemies—

He vented all his hatred on He Chusan.

By glaring at him a thousand times a day.

He Chusan, tempered through hardship, had grown mentally tougher. He completely ignored the kind of murderous glare that would’ve scared an ordinary person into pissing themselves.

Not only that—

While tending to Xia Liuyi’s daily needs, cleaning him and changing dressings, he had somehow learned to boss him around.

“Brother Liuyi, raise your arm.”

“Brother Liuyi, turn over.”

“Brother Liuyi, spread your legs a bit—I can’t reach your ass crack. Want me to clean the front too?”

“Brother Liuyi, get up and pee. I’m heading out to class—if you don’t go now, you’ll have to wait till tonight.”

“….”

Xia Liuyi scratched the bed daily until it was full of holes.

The small street was inhabited mostly by honest craftsmen. Aside from a few unlicensed clinics, snack shops, and butcher stalls, it was silent after 10 PM.

No lights. No sound.

In the darkness, Xia Liuyi struggled to turn on the iron bed. Propping himself up on his elbow, he stretched his leg and kicked the sleeping He Chusan on the floor.

He Chusan sat up groggily. “Brother Liuyi?”

“Is there a platform on the roof?” Xia Liuyi asked. The cotton had been removed from his mouth—aside from slight discomfort, he could speak normally again.

He Chusan helped him up.

The two crept out quietly, inching along the greasy walls of the narrow stairwell, climbing step by step to the rooftop.

The past few days had been overcast.

On the cramped rooftop—

Only a single tattered blanket fluttered alone in the wind.

“There’s a metal spike here—watch your step,” He Chusan warned, helping Xia Liuyi over the sheet before guiding him to sit along the rooftop edge.

This old tenement was only four or five stories high, hemmed in by taller buildings on all sides—like a frog trapped at the bottom of a well. Through the narrow gaps between buildings, one could barely glimpse the distant bustle of Tsim Sha Tsui. Looking up, there was only a pale moon and a scattering of stars.

Xia Liuyi leaned against the stone railing, instinctively reaching for his pocket—only to remember he hadn’t smoked in two weeks.

That damn brat refused to buy cigarettes for him no matter how hard he glared, even going so far as to argue, “My dad and I never smoke—it’ll look suspicious.”

He leaned back and took a deep breath, about to exhale slowly—

When he heard a scratch beside him.

He Chusan lit a candle, placed his shabby backpack on the ground as a cushion, and actually sat cross-legged, flipping open a book.

“….”

“Hey. I brought you up here to keep me company,” Xia Liuyi snapped, veins bulging on his forehead.

“Brother Liuyi, you sit. I won’t disturb you,” He Chusan replied respectfully. His final exams were tomorrow—every second counted.

“….”

Xia Liuyi really wanted to smack him upside the head.

This damn little fox. Bookworm!

Heaven must’ve taken pity on Boss Xia for once.

Not long after, the candle was blown out by the wind.

He Chusan relit it. It went out again.

He tried once more—

No matches left.

Xia Liuyi smirked faintly.

With no other choice, He Chusan put away his book and sat obediently beside him.

“Are you being hunted? What did you do?” He Chusan brought up the question from two weeks ago.

This time, Xia Liuyi didn’t brush him off.

He tilted his head, silent for a moment.

“My sister and A-Da… were killed.”

He said it calmly.

In front of Xia Xiaoman and Qinglong’s corpses, he hadn’t shed a single tear. During those days of being hunted like a stray dog, he hadn’t had time to feel anything.

And then—

He spent two full weeks lying silently in that cold, cramped room…

Accepting it.

He Chusan was stunned. “Your sister… died?”

“Yeah.”

After a pause, he said softly, “She was a good person.”

“I know,” Xia Liuyi said, staring up at the sky.

After a moment of silence, he continued quietly:

“I used to live in Jitou Alley—not far from here.”

“Huh?” He Chusan blinked.

“Huh your ass. I’m only three years older than you—we might’ve crossed paths as kids.”

“Did you rob me?” He Chusan asked seriously, trying to recall if this infamous gangster had been among the people who bullied him back then.

“The hell are you thinking?” Xia Liuyi scoffed. “I didn’t rob people as a kid. I was just trying to survive. My old man was a junkie—drugs, gambling, booze. My mom ran off after giving birth to me.”

“Xia Xiaoman was three years older than me. When other kids were still learning to talk, she was already cooking paste to feed me, carrying me outside for sunlight. Our father beat us every day, forcing us to steal. If we came back empty-handed, he’d beat us half to death. Xia Xiaoman always shielded me—so badly beaten she couldn’t even get out of bed.”

He rubbed his forehead tiredly.

“I was ten when my father tried to sell her off as a prostitute. I ran with her. He caught us in an alley—nearly beat us to death. People passed by… no one helped.”

“Then Qinglong showed up.”

“He came with a bunch of men—imposing as hell. One look from him, and my father dropped to his knees, kowtowing. He picked me up and had Xia Xiaoman hold onto him. That was the first time anyone protected us.”

“That day was June 1st. He said it was Children’s Day in the mainland—our holiday. He bought us cake.”

“My first cake in my life.”

“I decided that day was my real birthday. I changed my name to Xia Liuyi. I called him A-Da. I told him I’d follow him for life—because with him, I’d always have cake.”

In the dim light, He Chusan could see the faint smile at the corner of his lips.

“He let us live in his house. We had a housekeeper, went to school. Neither of us liked studying—we dropped out soon enough. Xia Xiaoman loved singing, so he sent her to learn music. I liked knives and sticks—he found someone to train me.”

“At fourteen, I thought I’d grown up. I begged him to take me in properly—burned incense, kowtowed, acknowledged him as my boss.”

“For the first few years, he wouldn’t let me do anything. Said I was too young—just stay by his side.”

“When I was eighteen, he got ambushed. Only a few men with him—trapped in a dead-end alley.”

Xia Liuyi gave a faint smile.

“I went fucking crazy. Charged in with two machetes. Don’t even remember how many people I cut down. I got him out—”

“And he slapped me.”

“The first time he ever hit me. The only time in my life.”

“I was sent to the hospital. Xia Xiaoman cried holding me. I didn’t tell her—after he hit me… there were tears in his eyes too.”

“That scared the hell out of me… and made me happier than anything.”

“Because besides Xia Xiaoman… there was finally someone else in this world who cared about me.”

He Chusan unconsciously hugged his arms.

The night wind was cold.

Sharp as he was, he could already sense something unsettling beneath these words.

The bond between Qinglong and Xia Liuyi had long surpassed that of boss and subordinate.

Only now did he understand why Xia Liuyi had reacted so violently to his script before—why he’d smashed him with a stool.

That ruthless gangster had been shaken.

Because a buried, forbidden feeling—

Had been exposed.

“Xia Xiaoman grew more beautiful. A lot of bosses wanted her. Qinglong tried to matchmake for her—she refused every one.”

“One night, she told me secretly—she liked Qinglong. She wanted to be his woman.”

“Whatever she wanted—I gave her.”

“Not long after, it was my twentieth birthday. Qinglong asked what I wanted.”

“I said… I wanted Xia Xiaoman to be my sister-in-law.”

He stopped.

After a long pause, he continued quietly:

“He looked at me for a long time. Then said—‘Whatever you want, A-Da will give you.’”

He didn’t say the rest aloud—

Qinglong, Anything you want… except this.

Liuyi, This is the only thing I want.

Qinglong, Do you even know what you’re saying?

Liuyi, She’s my sister. She loves you.

Qinglong, What about you?

Liuyi, I… I’m your man. Your disciple. I’ll follow you for life.

“He married Xia Xiaoman.”

“He also had a pair of Qinglong twin blades forged for me, took me to meet the elders, told them I was his most valued disciple—the youngest Red Pole. He started handing me parts of his business.”

“From then on, I was the subordinate. He was the boss. Xia Xiaoman was the boss’s wife.”

“I thought… that would last a lifetime.”

“Last year, Xia Xiaoman developed depression.”

“She said Qinglong didn’t love her. He treated her well—even better than before—but didn’t love her.”

“She suspected he had someone else. Asked me if it was true. I said no. She said I was lying.”

“I begged Qinglong to treat her better. He agreed.”

“I begged him to love her.”

“He said… he couldn’t.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away as if the memory was unbearable.

His head throbbed violently, as if splitting apart—

Images surged like black waves—

Xia Xiaoman, You have someone else! Who is it?! Who the hell is it?! Who’s in your heart?!

Qinglong, Stop talking nonsense!

Xia Xiaoman, You can’t say it? You think I don’t know? I was such a fool… I finally understand… You pervert! Shameless! The one you really like is—

Smack!

“He slapped Xia Xiaoman. She stabbed him. Then she jumped off the roof…”

“He was taken to the hospital. I chose to see Xia Xiaoman first.”

“By the time I got to the hospital… he’d already been killed.”

“With my knife.”

“With the Qinglong blade… he gave me…”

A hoarse, broken sound tore from Xia Liuyi’s throat.

He Chusan looked up in shock.

Xia Liuyi had his head lowered, gripping his knees so tightly his shoulders trembled.

Hesitating, He Chusan gently placed a hand over his, trying to stop him from hurting himself.

After a while, Xia Liuyi slowly lifted his head.

His face was dotted with tears.

He brushed He Chusan’s hand away lightly and continued flatly:

“The killer was the deputy hall leader. He tampered with Xia Xiaoman’s antidepressants, worsened her condition, drove her to death. Then he killed Qinglong, framed me, and sent people to hunt me down. The men searching the alleys during the day—they’re all his.”

“What are you going to do now?” He Chusan asked softly.

Xia Liuyi stared at the upright metal spike on the rooftop.

“Kill him. Avenge Qinglong and Xia Xiaoman.”

The bloody answer didn’t repel He Chusan.

He was still caught in the raw grief Xia Liuyi had just revealed.

“…And then?” he asked quietly.

Xia Liuyi closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.

“Take care of Qinglong’s men. Build Xiaoqi Hall into the biggest gang in Hong Kong.”

When Qinglong was alive, he had failed him.

Now that he was gone—

This was the only thing he could still do.

He Chusan fell silent.

Deep down, he sighed.

The underworld is still the underworld.

Endless killing, one wave after another.

Power struggles, gang wars—

And in the end, it was always ordinary people who suffered.

Having grown up in this filthy, lawless place, he couldn’t help but feel disgust toward it.

Xia Liuyi wiped his face mechanically.

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not pouring my heart out to you. I just needed something to talk to. There’s not even a cat here.”

“I didn’t misunderstand,” He Chusan said quickly.

After last time, he’d learned his lesson—no more reading too much into things.

“…I’m just curious,” he hesitated, then asked:

“Why didn’t you tell Qinglong you loved him too? Why force him to marry your sister? Why did he agree? You know forcing things doesn’t work, right?”

If they had faced it together—

Maybe that deputy leader would never have had the chance to create such a tragedy.

Despite the bluntness, Xia Liuyi didn’t lash out this time.

He was quiet for a moment.

Then, calmly, he reached out and ruffled He Chusan’s hair like petting a dog.

“Kid… you don’t understand.”

“There were too many things we couldn’t control.”

He Chusan lowered his eyes, letting him mess up his hair.

At twenty-one, his emotional life was a blank slate. He didn’t understand what “helplessness” meant.

But he could hear it—

In Xia Liuyi’s voice.

A deep, quiet loneliness.

“I’m going to sleep,” Xia Liuyi said, stretching his legs, resting his arms behind his head. “Talking too much is tiring.”

“You’ll catch a cold sleeping here,” He Chusan reminded him immediately.

“Shut up, kid. Go to sleep.”

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