Xia Liuyi handed all the newly opened billiard halls over to Xiao Ma. Now promoted to Red Pole, Xiao Ma had traded his old look for a flashy upgrade—designer suit, a thick gold chain around his neck, a gold watch on each wrist. When he walked, his sunglasses tilted skyward, arms swinging like a gorilla, a pack of underlings trailing behind him as he swaggered about inspecting his territory.
That day, he brought his crew to a shop near Longgang Polytechnic University. The moment he stepped inside—bam!—a cue stick smashed into his head!
“Ow—fuck!”
“Boss Ma! Boss Ma!” his underlings rushed over in alarm.
“Fuck—!” Xiao Ma flew into a rage—
—but an even louder roar exploded from inside the shop:
“Fucking bastard!”
The billiard hall had only just opened; equipment boxes were still piled high in one corner, stacked nearly to the ceiling.
He Chusan sat perched right on top, drenched in sweat, clutching his little backpack.
Below, Xia Liuyi was cursing up a storm. “Got guts? Then get the hell down here! You little bastard! I told you to swear brotherhood with me, not go die!”
“Swear brotherhood? You mean… get married?” Xiao Ma, clutching his head, had just stepped in when he heard that line—his eyes went wide.
Xia Liuyi grabbed another cue stick and hurled it at him. “Swear allegiance to your boss! Shut the fuck up!”
“I’m not swearing to any boss. I’m not joining the underworld,” He Chusan called down, repeating his usual line from above.
Xiao Ma dodged the cue stick neatly and shouted up with hands on hips, “You think just anyone gets to acknowledge our boss?! Don’t be ungrateful! Get down here and swear in, you bastard!”
“Who the hell are you calling a bastard?!” Xia Liuyi snapped, flinging another cue stick at him. “Get lost!”
Xiao Ma bolted out in panic, only daring to complain once he reached the street. “Fuck, this kid’s precious—only the boss is allowed to curse him.”
After a long string of futile yelling, Xia Liuyi pointed at the employees cowering in the corner. “Move that table out of the way! Damn it, climbing up and down—let’s see how he gets down now!”
“Boss…” the manager ventured nervously, “should we poke him down with a cue stick?”
“The fuck you talking about?! That’s a top student from the university across the street! If he cracks his head, you paying with yours?! You think you can afford it?!”
The manager instantly realized—this was just the boss flirting with his newly chosen lackey. He hurriedly led the staff to clear the table and vanished at lightning speed, even hanging a “Closed for Today” sign outside—private booking by the boss.
Seeing everyone leave, He Chusan dropped the timid student act entirely. Sticking his head out, he began earnestly reasoning with Xia Liuyi:
“Brother Liuyi, I really don’t want to join the underworld. Look at you—you fight and kill all day, it’s dangerous. Gambling dens, brothels, loan sharks—every one of those ruins people’s lives…”
“Fuck off,” Xia Liuyi snapped. “Don’t preach to me like some monk. Think going to university makes you special? Want to be Chief Inspector, huh? Let me tell you—even the Secretary for Security wouldn’t dare interfere with my business! And did I tell you to go be a gigolo or a prostitute?! I’m giving you a few billiard halls to manage—ten, twenty thousand a month in red envelopes. You studied your ass off for over a decade—how much can you make a month after graduation? Three thousand? Five thousand?”
“It’s not about the money—it’s about breaking the law…” He Chusan tried to continue—
Xia Liuyi kicked the bottom of the stacked boxes. The entire tower wobbled violently.
Clinging to the edge, He Chusan fell silent, sighing inwardly—trying to reason with a triad boss is impossible.
Carefully, he glanced at the sky outside, then turned back. “Brother Liuyi… the library’s about to close. Can you let me down first so I can return my books?”
“Return my ass,” Xia Liuyi said. “You stay up there and reflect for the whole night!”
He Chusan immediately switched tactics. “Brother Liuyi, I know I was wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
“I shouldn’t have nagged you like a monk.”
“And?”
“I shouldn’t have exposed your illegal activities…”
“Fuck your mother!” Xia Liuyi kicked the boxes again!
“Brother Liuyi…” He Chusan clung to the stack, swaying pitifully. “I really know I was wrong. Let me down—if I miss the return date, there’ll be fines.”
“I’ll pay it!”
“There’ll also be a bad record—they won’t let me borrow books anymore, and my scholarship might be revoked,” He Chusan lied through his teeth, calling out weakly, “Brother Liuyi… Brother Liuyi…”
Xia Liuyi’s ears were ringing from the nagging. “Shut up!”
He Chusan instantly shut up, only peeking his head out to watch him.
Xia Liuyi tugged at a nearby table with one hand—no luck. Looking around, the manager was long gone.
“Jump down,” he said, raising his arm. “I’ll catch you.”
He Chusan hesitated, weighing the situation—can you even catch me? But imagining the beating he’d get for saying that out loud, he gritted his teeth, climbed to the edge—
—and dropped.
Thud!
Xia Liuyi was knocked flat on the ground, the two of them rolling into a heap. Luckily, the tables had already been moved, so neither cracked their heads.
“Fuck! Did you grow taller again?! What the hell are you eating?!”
“Practicing Taiji,” He Chusan said, still sprawled on top of him, arms wrapped around his waist. “My dad says I can still grow.”
“In your dreams,” Xia Liuyi smacked his back. “Get up!”
They both stood, brushing dust off themselves. He Chusan used a cue stick to knock his backpack down from above. Just as he politely said goodbye and tried to slip away, Xia Liuyi called out:
“Return your books and come right back. I’ll take you to Jordan for claypot chicken.”
“I need to go home and study—”
The word study was swallowed back under Boss Xia’s glare.
Xia Liuyi was about ready to die from sheer frustration with this kid—utterly clueless about favors. He, a triad boss at the top, trying to take in a lackey—and it was this exhausting. He even invited him to dinner, and the brat didn’t even want to go! Fuck!
What’s wrong with the underworld? Is underworld food poisoned?!
To be fair, he didn’t have any strange intentions toward He Chusan. It was purely that he hadn’t succeeded in recruiting a college student lackey, and it left him dissatisfied. Recently, Xiaoqi Hall’s expansion had been smooth sailing—Boss Xia was bored out of his mind.
Besides, this kid might look dull and quiet, but he was full of tricks. Sparring wits with him every day was practically mental exercise—like how cultured folks buy newspapers to do crossword puzzles for fun.
He’d even trained his temper because of him—keeping a straight face, pretending to be calm and gentle, no longer casually beating people with sticks—
—if he beat someone now, he’d beat them to death directly.
He Chusan hugged his backpack and slipped off toward the university library, sighing the whole way. If he got dragged into dinner, who knew how long it would last—and then he’d have to stay up all night studying again.
Thinking back, agreeing to go to Xia Liuyi’s place to learn billiards had been a moment of confusion—when Xia Liuyi said his hand was crippled, his brain short-circuited and his mouth said the wrong thing.
As for going to see him every few days after that? Pure coercion.
The boss would literally send a car to block the school gate and pick him up—in full view of teachers and classmates. Some even secretly speculated he was being kept by some rich woman from the Mid-Levels villas.
He Chusan had just turned twenty-two that year. Over the past year, he’d shot up in height—broad shoulders, long legs, tall and well-built. Years of Taijiquan had given him a lean, well-proportioned musculature.
Carrying a small backpack, with clear features and a shy, innocent look—
—wasn’t that exactly the ideal “pretty boy” type favored by rich women?
He Chusan had no way to control what others thought, nor could he prove his innocence. He only felt that in this chaotic world, under dark clouds, he was a model example of an honest citizen being bullied and dragged into the underworld.
He wanted to escape and return to the right path—but couldn’t, and it troubled him deeply.
While stirring the bubbling claypot chicken, Xia Liuyi said casually, “I’m shooting a new movie next month. You’ll write the script.”
He Chusan sighed.
Clack! Xia Liuyi slammed his chopsticks down.
He Chusan quickly explained, “My coursework this term is heavy, and midterms are coming. Can I write it during summer break?”
“Sure,” Xia Liuyi said. “I’ll just fire the entire production crew, leave all the equipment to rust in storage, and freeze the actors into human popsicles while we wait for you. Sound good?”
He Chusan lowered his head, picked up a mushroom, and said obediently, “I’ll start next week.”
“Fuck, always going against me,” Xia Liuyi grumbled, snatching the mushroom from his chopsticks and tossing it back into the pot. “Cook it longer—it’s not done.”
He Chusan silently switched to gnawing on a chicken claw.
“You’re just asking to get beaten,” Xia Liuyi said. “Meat you won’t eat, bones you’ll chew—soft won’t do, you only take it the hard way.”
“I call it standing firm first, then adapting as needed,” He Chusan replied.
“Cut the bullshit. Shut up. Boss! Two beers!”
“Coming right up!” The owner rushed in and out at lightning speed. “Boss, your beer!”
From another table, the bodyguards chimed in, “Boss! Four beers here too!”
“Drink my ass! Who’s driving later?” Xia Liuyi snapped.
The underlings quickly played rock-paper-scissors, deciding which two unlucky bastards had to stay sober while the rest could enjoy.
As for bodyguard duty?
Heh.
Across Kowloon—who the hell would dare mess with Boss Xia?
It was early summer, 1990.
Back in 1987, the Chinese and British governments had already reached an agreement to demolish Jiaolong Walled City. Despite heavy resistance, the process had entered its planned phase. Compensation plans were finalized, and the first batch of residents had already begun relocating.
The gangs within the Walled City had long since started moving out as well, extending their influence into Kowloon, Hong Kong Island, and the New Territories—clashing constantly with existing factions, open fights and street battles erupting in alleys and backstreets.
Xiaoqi Hall’s influence had originally been limited to Kowloon City. Under Qinglong, it expanded into Mong Kok. After Xia Liuyi took over, he pushed even further—opening dance halls and nightclubs in Prince Edward, Sham Shui Po, and down south toward Hung Hom.
All those place names boiled down to one thing—
Boss Xia’s aggressive expansion had seriously encroached on other gangs’ territory.
Especially the Hesheng Society, which dominated Yau Ma Tei and Tsim Sha Tsui.
Their boss, “Fat Seven,”—if you recall—was the one whose brother-in-law had a finger chopped off by Xia Liuyi.
Watching Xia Liuyi plant flag after flag into his territory, even forming a potential encirclement, Fat Seven was seething. New grudges piled on old—there was no way he could feel good about it.
Before the New Year, he had gone all out in a major clash at Hung Hom Pier. The result? His own Red Pole was severely injured, three underlings dead, and a humiliating retreat.
Xia Liuyi had declared he’d beat him every time he saw him.
Since then, Fat Seven had shut himself in, living in frustration—throwing darts at Xia Liuyi’s photo and stabbing voodoo dolls daily.
And the place Xia Liuyi had brought He Chusan to eat chicken hotpot today—
was right in Fat Seven’s territory.
The restaurant owner had long been a sycophant to Fat Seven—but now that Xia Liuyi was here, he fawned just the same.
After years of dealing with gangsters, the owner had mastered survival:
Power shifts constantly—today it’s Boss A, tomorrow Boss B. You fight your battles, I’ll pay protection fees to everyone and flatter whoever’s in front of me. That way, business thrives.
He was minding his own business, focused only on profits—
when suddenly, loud shouting came from outside:
“Move aside! Move aside!”
A group of underlings cleared the way as Fat Seven—true to his name, big-bellied—and his flamboyantly dressed girlfriend, Lai Sanmei, were escorted in.
The owner’s heart sank, but he forced a smile and hurried over. “Boss Fat Seven! Welcome, welcome! Please, this way—”
“No~ I want to sit there,” Lai Sanmei said in a shrill voice, pointing with a delicate finger.
Just as Lai Sanmei pointed—
Xia Liuyi and his group turned their heads at the commotion.
Two groups locked eyes—big glaring at small. Fat Seven roared, “Xia Liuyi?!”
Xia Liuyi lifted a brow, utterly calm. “Fat Seven.”
At the same time, he casually picked up a piece of chicken rump and dropped it into He Chusan’s bowl.
He Chusan had been chewing on a mushroom—frozen mid-bite by Fat Seven’s shout. He lowered his head, silently forcing it down, instinctively sensing the cold killing intent hidden beneath Xia Liuyi’s calm.
Fat Seven, hearing that indifferent tone, lost it instantly. He yanked a gun from his waist!
“Xia Liuyi! You killed my men! Stole my goods! And you dare walk into my turf with just a few lackeys?!”
Xia Liuyi’s bodyguards leapt up, guns raised. Across from them, Fat Seven’s men also drew their weapons. The two sides lined up like a firearms exhibition, glaring each other down.
The chicken pot owner quietly backed away with his ledger, signaling nervously to his pale-faced staff watching from afar.
Xia Liuyi slowly set down his chopsticks and stood up, subtly shielding He Chusan behind him.
“If you’ve got the guts to kill me, then do it,” he said calmly, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe his mouth. “Otherwise, I suggest you put the gun away. Don’t scare the civilians.”
“Xia Liuyi, don’t push it too far!” Fat Seven snapped.
“In our line of work, who doesn’t push others around?” Xia Liuyi crumpled the napkin and tossed it aside, tilting his head as he lit a cigarette. He narrowed his eyes, took a drag, and exhaled slowly. “Besides—I’ve got the ability to bully you.”
“You—!” Fat Seven’s fleshy chin trembled, but his finger hovered over the trigger, unable to pull it.
Xia Liuyi’s men were notorious for being just as fearless as their boss. If he fired now, there was no guarantee the next bullet wouldn’t be his own death.
Not to mention—after their last clash, the Hesheng Society was already badly weakened. If he killed Xia Liuyi now, Xiaoqi Hall’s forces across Kowloon—and Vice Hall Master Cui Dongdong, a notorious hardliner—would come for revenge. He might not survive the fallout.
While Fat Seven wrestled with himself—
Xia Liuyi had already turned away, casually grabbing the stunned He Chusan and hauling him up.
“A-Yong, A-Biao—get the car.”
The two sober bodyguards holstered their guns and moved immediately.
Fat Seven could only watch as Xia Liuyi and his men got into two cars and drove off in a cloud of dust.
“Fuck!” He slammed the table, cursing. “Xia Liuyi—one day I’ll settle this with you!”
Xia Liuyi’s convoy sped through the streets, eventually stopping near the entrance to Jiaolong Walled City to drop He Chusan off.
He Chusan sat in the back seat, hugging his backpack, silent. The atmosphere turned heavy.
Xia Liuyi teased him, “What? Scared?”
He Chusan glanced toward the driver’s seat but said nothing.
Xia Liuyi knew that look—he had something to say. When the car stopped, he waved the bodyguards into the other vehicle, rolled down the window, lit a cigarette, and leaned back.
“Say it.”
“…Next time… can you not take me to places like that?” He Chusan said, head lowered, clutching his backpack tightly.
“Fuck!” Xia Liuyi had expected it. He slammed his useless right hand against the window. “Stop acting all coy like a little girl! I didn’t know Fat Seven would show up!”
“Even if he didn’t,” He Chusan said, “you bringing people into his territory to eat—that’s a provocation. I don’t want to be involved in your underworld affairs.”
Xia Liuyi went silent, cigarette pinched between his fingers.
Before he lost control and hit him, he pointed outside.
“Get out.”
Fuck, I really don’t want to talk to this brat.
He Chusan immediately opened the door and got out—so fast it was like he’d been waiting to escape all along.
Xia Liuyi choked on his own anger, took a drag of his cigarette—
—and coughed violently. “Cough—cough—!”
Brushing ash off his suit in a fluster, he slammed the window again.
He had genuinely thought that chicken pot place was good—wanted to treat this clueless poor kid to something nice!
Biting the hand that feeds you—damn ungrateful bastard!
After sulking in the back seat for a while, one of the bodyguards from the rear car approached cautiously. “Boss?”
“You guys go back first,” Xia Liuyi said.
“…Understood.” The bodyguard hesitated, then left.
Seeing his boss was in a bad mood and wanting to be alone—and considering they were near their own territory—they all squeezed into one car and drove off.
Xia Liuyi sat alone, finishing an entire cigarette.
Then he moved to the driver’s seat and drove toward a nearby seaside villa.
This luxurious villa had once belonged to Boss Qinglong. After the brutal murder of him, his wife, and over a dozen servants, it had become known as a haunted house.
Xia Liuyi had hired Taoist priests to perform rituals—but the place remained empty.
Headlights cut through the darkness as he drove along the winding coastal road, stopping before the eerie villa.
The iron gate, engraved with lion reliefs, was rusted over, talismans fluttering in the sea wind.
He stepped out, lit a cigarette, and stood facing the cold, dark house.
After a drag, he crouched and wedged the cigarette into the gate.
“A-Da… Sis… I was passing by. Thought I’d come see you.”
He lit another cigarette, his voice calm.
“Things in the gang are going smoothly.”
“I’m doing fine.”
“I’ll find the ones who killed you… and tear them to pieces.”
After saying those three things, he fell silent, as if he had nothing else to say.
He looked up.
The sky was full of stars—dense, glittering like shattered glass scattered across black cloth.
It reminded him of the shattered pool of blood by the swimming pool.
The two most important people in his life—
were now up there, beyond the stars, far away from him.
Now he possessed hundreds of millions in assets, a thriving empire, countless subordinates—he could summon wind and rain at will—
And yet, he still had nothing.
Even a green, barely-grown kid could look down on him—refuse to stand by his side.
He wasn’t even as good as his younger self—
That fearless eighteen-year-old with nothing but two blades and burning blood—
but who still had family, hope, and something worth risking his life to protect.
Only the howling sea wind filled the darkness, whipping his clothes and hair.
The cigarette lodged in the gate was suddenly swept into the air—the ember flickered once, then vanished into the endless night.
Half an hour later, Xia Liuyi drove back toward the city.
The roads were empty in the dead of night. As he passed near Jiaolong Walled City, he instinctively glanced up.
That single glance—
caught sight of a strange figure running along the roadside.
The figure’s back was hunched high, as if carrying something large. It staggered forward, moving quickly down the road.
Xia Liuyi hit the brakes, frowning as he looked closer. He rolled down the window and called out uncertainly:
“He Chusan?”
The figure froze.
The car rolled forward slightly, headlights illuminating—
He Chusan’s panicked face.
And slumped over his back—
his father.
Futile Devices Scans 
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