Futile Devices Scans

Xia Liu Yi had always thought He Chu San an interesting lad—he looked dull and slow-witted on the surface, yet his mind was sharp as a hidden blade. And yet, if one were to call him smooth, worldly, or adaptable, one would be mistaken. Beneath that unassuming exterior lay a spine of iron—what he refused to do, he would never do. He would circle around you like a practitioner of Taiji, evading and deflecting, but never yielding, not even in death.

Usually he appeared timid and cautious, but in truth, Xia Liu Yi had never once seen this boy truly afraid.

Even back when the two of them were hunted, when the lad carried him on his back and fled in ragged breaths, he still wore that foolish, almost comical expression—at times confused, at times flustered, yet never once betraying fear.

This was the first time Xia Liu Yi had ever seen He Chu San afraid.

The boy stood there like a statue, unmoving, both hands clutching tightly at his trousers, eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the doors of the operating room. His face was drained of all color, his gaze vacant, as though that keen and nimble mind of his had drifted away with his very soul.

Lowering his head, Xia Liu Yi noticed that his fingers were trembling faintly.

Unable to help himself, he reached out and placed a hand atop the boy’s sweat-damp hair, rubbing it roughly. “Don’t worry. The doctor said the success rate for this kind of surgery is very high.”

He Chu San allowed himself to be manhandled without resistance, his eyes still locked on the tightly shut doors. After a while, he spoke in a low voice.

“When I got back, I saw him collapsed on the floor. The shop door was still open, but no one noticed… the neighbors had all closed up and gone to sleep.”

“He’s been closing shop this late every day, and opening again early in the morning… for years.”

“He’s already so old, and still can’t rest… still has to work to support me…”

Xia Liu Yi was just about to say, your old man isn’t that old—if you said that to his face, he’d knock all your teeth out, when he suddenly saw tears streaming down the boy’s face, falling in heavy drops onto his faded, well-worn trousers.

Something in the great boss’s hardened heart softened. After all, he was just a scrappy kid, clinging to his father for survival—it wasn’t easy.

So he pressed a hand to his shoulder, pulling him into a firm embrace. “Stop crying. Hold it together.”

He Chu San suppressed a sob, trembling for a moment… and then, as if by sheer will, steadied himself. After a long while, he lowered his head and wiped at his tear-streaked face with his sleeve.

“I’m alright now, Brother Liu Yi. Thank you for driving us here,” he said hoarsely. Then he took out a small oil-paper bundle, unwrapped it to reveal a crumpled stack of bills. “About the hospital fees you covered earlier…”

Xia Liu Yi waved it off carelessly. “Keep it. Buy some ginseng tea for your old man.”

“My father won’t accept money from the underworld,” He Chu San said. “If he knew you paid the hospital fees, he would insist on being discharged.”

“….”

Xia Liu Yi choked on his words for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Grinding his teeth, he snapped, “Then just say I owe him for pulling my teeth.”

He Chu San pretended to calculate for a moment. “Then each tooth will cost you fifteen hundred.”

With a smack, Xia Liu Yi slapped the top of his head. “You little bastard—you’ve recovered, haven’t you? Mocking your Brother Liu Yi is becoming a habit?”

He Chu San clutched his head and laughed under his breath.

Xia Liu Yi stayed with him until the surgery was over. He Chu San’s father, under anesthesia, was wheeled out sleeping soundly and sent to the ward. It had been a sudden cerebral hemorrhage, but fortunately he had been brought in time, and the condition was not severe. The operation had gone smoothly—once he woke and recovered under observation, he would be able to leave the hospital.

He Chu San carefully tucked the blanket around his father before seeing Xia Liu Yi out. The two walked side by side into the corridor. Just as Xia Liu Yi was about to leave, his sleeve was tugged.

Glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, He Chu San lowered his head and spoke softly. “Brother Liu Yi… what I said tonight… that wasn’t what I meant.”

Leaning lazily against the wall, Xia Liu Yi lit a cigarette and tilted his head. “Oh? Which part?”

“When I told you not to take me out again,” He Chu San said quietly.

“Mm.” Xia Liu Yi feigned indifference, but inwardly he sneered, waiting to see what explanation the boy could come up with.

“I just…” He Chu San hesitated, then spoke honestly. “When I saw them pointing guns at you… I was afraid.”

Xia Liu Yi held the smoke in his mouth, watching as the boy lifted his head, eyes filled with concern and sorrow.

“I don’t want to see you hurt again. When I think of you like that… it hurts here.”

“Cough—” Xia Liu Yi choked.

“I shouldn’t have spoken in a way that angered you. I’m sorry, Brother Liu Yi. Actually… even if sometimes we can’t communicate well, I still like being with you. What happened tonight was my fault. There’s a chicken hotpot place in Hung Hom that’s really good—my classmate mentioned it. Next time, I’ll treat you, alright?”

Xia Liu Yi didn’t answer. He had been thoroughly choked by the smoke, flinging away the cigarette as he coughed violently. “Cough—cough—cough—!”

“No smoking in the hospital, Brother Liu Yi,” the oblivious brat said earnestly, patting his back and lecturing him with utmost sincerity.

…

Later, Xia Liu Yi would think back to that night—the look in He Chu San’s eyes, those words—and feel that something had been off. Yet he could not quite pinpoint what. If one interpreted it as deep brotherhood, it made sense enough. After all, he had drawn his blade to help, had saved the boy’s father—some gesture of goodwill in return was only natural.

After all, in this world, the ambiguity between men was rare.

Perhaps he had simply been overly sensitive.

Besides, with He Chu San’s bookish, socially awkward nature, he likely could not distinguish which words were appropriate and which carried… a certain ambiguity best left unsaid.

After that night, Fat Seven threw his full weight into opposing Xiao Qi Hall, even allying with several old factions once “bullied” by Xia Liu Yi—including a certain Boss Sha from the Gaau Lung Walled City, whose gambling den had once been smashed. Troubles sprang up one after another.

Xia Liu Yi was occupied with “company affairs,” while He Chu San was busy with his studies and caring for his recovering father. For nearly a month, the two did not meet.

One day, Xiao Ma came to the “headquarters” to report on business, and took the opportunity to complain to the boss—how long it had been since that He family brat had shown his face at the billiards hall, how ungrateful he was! After all this time, he still hadn’t come to pay respects—utterly lacking in manners!

For his trouble, he was rewarded with a cigarette butt hurled straight at him by Xia Liu Yi. “So much nonsense! Get back to work!”

Xiao Ma fled in a panic. That very afternoon, he called back. “Boss! That He family brat is at the billiards hall—says he has something to discuss with you!”

Xia Liu Yi was in a meeting with several managers at the time and paid it little mind, merely instructing Xiao Ma to have someone drive him over to the head office. After the meeting, he spared a moment from his busy schedule to see him.

He Chu San, carrying a small schoolbag, was escorted in—practically lifted by two burly bodyguards.

“What is it?” Xia Liu Yi set down the half-smoked cigar he had been holding for show—he had never much liked cigars, finding them too harsh, reeking of nouveau riche excess. Born from the ranks of street enforcers, a man of the grassroots, he had always felt himself somewhat different from the bloated likes of Boss Sha or Fat Seven.

He Chu San glanced at the two bodyguards. Xia Liu Yi waved a hand, and they vanished without a sound.

From his schoolbag, He Chu San pulled out a stack of papers. “The script you asked for. I’ve been slower lately—had to take care of my father.”

Xia Liu Yi had long since forgotten about it. He stuffed the script into a drawer without even looking.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Are you free tonight? I’ll treat you to chicken hotpot in Hung Hom.”

Xia Liu Yi raised a brow, half amused. “You’re treating?”

“I said I would,” the poor little scholar replied earnestly.

Xia Liu Yi chuckled, then raised his voice. “Angel!”

Moments later, a tall secretary with snow-white legs strode in on high heels. “Boss.”

“What’s my schedule tonight?”

“Dinner with Big Fool Wu at six in Lin Heung Tea House. At seven-thirty, Manager Cui has arranged a meeting at the nightclub.”

“Big Fool Wu tomorrow. Cui Dong Dong at eight-thirty.”

“Yes, sir.”

The secretary swayed her hips as she left. The vast office fell silent, leaving only the two of them.

“Sit and wait. I’ve still got things to review.” Xia Liu Yi nodded toward the sofa.

He Chu San sat properly, clutching his schoolbag, and took out a thick tome, lowering his head to read.

Xia Liu Yi continued frowning over a stack of reports, occasionally grabbing a dictionary from the desk. After a while, he sensed something off and said casually, “Kid, come take a look.”

He Chu San obediently came over, glanced at the sections he pointed to, and was about to explain—then suddenly frowned. “Overseas company? Thailand? You’re laundering money?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Xia Liu Yi grumbled, ruffling his hair roughly. “What’s wrong with this part?”

“I won’t help you launder dirty money,” the boy actually twisted his head away.

Xia Liu Yi’s temper flared instantly. “I didn’t ask you to do the books! You’ll go blind just looking at it?!”

He Chu San covered his “dog eyes” and slipped away like an eel, crawling back onto the sofa to continue reading. Xia Liu Yi hurled an ashtray at him—it missed.

“You little bastard!” Xia Liu Yi cursed. “If you hadn’t saved my life, I’d have skinned you alive! Ungrateful dog!”

He Chu San remained impervious, deaf to it all, even reminding him, “Brother Liu Yi, hurry up. That place gets crowded—we’ll have to queue if we’re late.”

“Damn it!”

Xia Liu Yi had finally gotten his hands on a top student from a prestigious university’s finance department, yet not only could he not make use of him—he got splattered with nonsense every time. He nearly exploded with frustration. He had half a mind to peel this brat’s hide off—but then thought better of it. Just a frail student—he, a grand boss, was above stooping to such pettiness.

Sure enough, the chicken hotpot place in Hung Hom required queuing—a long line stretched out onto the street. Xia Liu Yi’s bodyguards forced their way in and secured a window table. As He Chu San was dragged in, he protested, “Someone was there—you just took their seat like that…”

“You only just realized I’m underworld?” Xia Liu Yi sneered. “And who was it that insisted on treating an underworld man to dinner?”

He Chu San fell silent.

The two of them, each inwardly thinking this damned brat—hypocrite! and once underworld, always underworld—beyond saving!, bent over the menu together. When the server came, they spoke in unison:

“Large chicken hotpot, medium spicy!”

Xia Liu Yi shot him a glare. “Baby bok choy.”

“Mushrooms and fatty beef,” He Chu San added quickly.

With a slap, Xia Liu Yi smacked the menu shut. He Chu San blinked. “Don’t you like fatty beef?”

Xia Liu Yi took a deep breath, reminding himself repeatedly not to stoop to this level. He fished out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth, only for the server—unaware of his identity—to politely stop him. “Sir, smoking is not allowed inside.”

Before Xia Liu Yi could level a freezing glare, He Chu San spoke up reassuringly, “It’s fine—he’ll choke on it soon enough.”

“…”

Strangely, Xia Liu Yi did not explode this time. He put the cigarette away, waited for the server to leave, then said, “As long as you’re breathing, you’ll keep arguing with me, won’t you?”

“No,” He Chu San said honestly. “I respect you very much, Brother Liu Yi.”

“Shut up!” Xia Liu Yi snapped. “Say one more word and I’ll dump the whole pot on your head!”

He Chu San sighed like an old scholar, wearing an expression of unreasonable underworld men truly cannot be reasoned with, and quietly began arranging the bowls and chopsticks.

How much patience do I have not to kill this brat? Xia Liu Yi suddenly felt a pang of sorrow.

Thinking back over the year since they had met, he almost wished he had beaten him to death with a stool leg at the very beginning.

The two sat in silence before the bubbling hotpot. The mushrooms He Chu San had added were not yet cooked. Xia Liu Yi pressed them down with his chopsticks, stirring absently, then suddenly remembered something and kicked the table beside him.

A bodyguard sprang up and respectfully presented a paper-wrapped bundle.

Xia Liu Yi nudged it forward with his chopsticks. “Payment for the script.”

He Chu San did not take it. He continued stirring the mushrooms, looking at Xia Liu Yi with wide eyes.

“Stop pretending. You can speak now,” Xia Liu Yi said impatiently.

“I don’t want it,” He Chu San said.

Xia Liu Yi’s face darkened—but before he could erupt, the boy added quickly, “I wrote it willingly, Brother Liu Yi. No need for money.”

“Cut the righteous bullshit!” Xia Liu Yi snapped. “You just think my money’s dirty, don’t you?!”

“I never said you were my ‘brother,’” He Chu San said. “You’re my friend.”

Xia Liu Yi let out a cold laugh. “You won’t be triad, but you’ll be friends with one? You think that keeps you clean?”

He Chu San lowered his head and picked up a chicken tail. “I’m not trying to keep myself clean. I just… really can’t take the money.”

This time, Xia Liu Yi was truly angered.

His expression turned icy as he set down his chopsticks—then suddenly stood and flipped the table!

Bang! Crash!

The violent noise and shattering clay pot startled everyone in the restaurant. The overturned stove went out instantly, hissing as gas leaked. Staff rushed forward in alarm, only to be blocked by towering bodyguards. Diners gathered, wide-eyed, while the manager hurried over to mediate.

“Boss! Boss! Let’s talk this out—”

A bodyguard shoved him aside. “None of your business. Get lost!”

He Chu San sat there, stunned. The scalding hotpot had not been dumped over his head as threatened—only splashing his worn gray shoes and trousers.

Xia Liu Yi did not even glance at him. With a cold face, he turned and left. The bodyguards hurried after him.

He Chu San watched his back, eyes wide, until the manager tugged at him. “Kid, are you alright? Do you owe them money?”

“I’m fine,” He Chu San said quietly. He bent down, retrieved the soaked paper bundle from the mess, then picked up his schoolbag. “How much for the hotpot and the pot? I’ll pay.”

“Forget it,” the manager sighed. “You’re clearly being bullied. It’s not easy for you—just go.”

He Chu San left the restaurant just as Xia Liu Yi’s car sped out of the nearby parking lot, leaving a trail of exhaust. Xia Liu Yi sat in the back seat, expressionless, speaking into his phone.

He Chu San silently watched the car disappear around the corner, then lowered his gaze to the thick, dirt-stained bundle in his hands.

He was nothing special.

The tolerance of that proud, cold-blooded underworld lord toward him… had reached its limit.

Previous

Main

Next