Fifteen minutes later, He Chusan, dressed in his worn-out clothes and shabby shoes, was sitting inside the bright, spotless, and scenic restaurant of the Peninsula Hotel, staring down at the long rows of numbers on the English menu.
“Brother Liuyi…” he began, wanting to say this place is too expensive—let’s just leave.
“Bring a Chinese menu,” Xia Liuyi said to the waiter with a frown.
The Indian waiter shook his head. “No Chinese, sir.”
“Brother Liuyi…” He Chusan tried again.
“Then bring the two most expensive dishes,” Xia Liuyi said. “The most expensive—expensive! Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter replied.
“Broth—” He Chusan started again.
Xia Liuyi shot him a cold look. “Hm?”
“…Nothing.” He Chusan shut up immediately.
That look clearly said: Say one more word and I’ll throw you out the window.
Fine. The big boss hadn’t calmed down yet—he wanted to spend money to vent. What could he say?
So He Chusan sat obediently, accompanying Xia Liuyi while he cooled off. Soft, elegant music drifted through the restaurant. Outside the window, Victoria Harbour shimmered with dazzling lights—a breathtaking scene He Chusan, who had grown up in the dark confines of Jiaolong Walled City, had never witnessed before.
This radiant, sleepless city of the East—this glittering pearl of the sea—had never belonged to him. He had lived here for over twenty years, yet remained a stranger within a city inside a city.
He stared blankly out the window until Xia Liuyi tapped his plate with a knife. “What are you doing?”
“Brother Liuyi… it’s so beautiful,” He Chusan said, still gazing outside.
“Speak clearly! Your Brother Liuyi is handsome, not ‘beautiful.’”
He Chusan burst out laughing, then sat up properly and said earnestly, “Brother Liuyi, you’re more handsome than the view outside.”
Xia Liuyi snorted. He was already used to this kid’s dumb remarks.
Treat him to lobster once and he starts flattering you. Listen to that sweet mouth—even Xiao Ma would kneel for him.
After a so-called appetizer that Xia Liuyi dismissed as “weeds,” a large platter of lobster and a steak were served. Red wine was poured, candles lit. The two handsome young men sat by the window, flickering light dancing around them—at a glance, it almost looked like a proper fine-dining scene.
Xia Liuyi had eaten Western food countless times with Qinglong, so he handled himself with ease—cutting into his steak and taking a bold gulp of wine. As he ate, he glanced up and saw He Chusan awkwardly poking at the imposing lobster with a small fork.
“If you don’t know how to eat it, use your hands,” Xia Liuyi said.
He Chusan glanced at the waiter standing nearby watching them, then stubbornly continued struggling with the fork.
Xia Liuyi couldn’t stand that restrained, awkward act. He waved the waiter over. “Bring chopsticks.”
“Sir?”
“Chopsticks! You deaf?!” Xia Liuyi’s face darkened.
“He wants a pair of chopsticks,” He Chusan quickly explained in English.
The waiter raised a brow. “Yes, sir.”
“Damn it,” Xia Liuyi muttered at his retreating back, “jabbering in bird language.”
He Chusan stifled a laugh, gave up on the lobster, and carefully tried cutting the steak instead.
Then—slip—
The knife slid right out of his hand and clattered straight into Xia Liuyi’s plate, splashing sauce all over him.
Xia Liuyi froze.
He Chusan immediately lowered his head. “Sorry, Brother Liuyi.”
“Damn brat,” Xia Liuyi cursed. He casually took off his stained suit jacket and tossed it over the chair, yanked off his tie, and loosened two buttons of his shirt before leaning back, frowning. “One of these days I’m chopping off your damn hands.”
Right then, the waiter returned with an elegant pair of gold-rimmed chopsticks. Xia Liuyi jerked his chin at He Chusan. “Use these.”
“Huh?”
“I’m paying and still have to follow their rules? You think chopsticks will choke you?!” Xia Liuyi snapped, glaring at the waiter still lingering nearby. “What are you staring at? Get lost!”
The waiter didn’t need translation this time—he left immediately.
He Chusan obediently picked up the chopsticks and began eating his steak.
…Honestly, Brother Liuyi looked incredibly domineering.
—Rich and from the underworld. No wonder he could act however he wanted anywhere.
He Chusan lowered his head and focused on filling his stomach. Meanwhile, Xia Liuyi straightened up, helped cut his steak into pieces, and scolded him, “You’ve got a screw loose. Clearly a little fox, but you insist on pretending to be some mangy stray, just waiting for people to kick you.”
“……” He Chusan thought that no matter where you were, there should be rules—you couldn’t just act however you pleased. He wanted to argue, but after thinking about it, he let it go.
Xia Liuyi continued peeling the lobster while cursing him out, then leaned back and made a call to Xiao Ma.
After hanging up, he kicked He Chusan lightly under the table. “Next Friday. Come to my company to watch a movie.”
“I—” He Chusan, cheeks stuffed with lobster, tried to say I have work that day.
Xia Liuyi’s expression turned cold.
Reading the room instantly, He Chusan swallowed with difficulty. “I—I’ll come Friday afternoon… cough cough…”
Only then did Xia Liuyi withdraw that murderous glare.
“Cough…” He Chusan was still struggling. “Brother Liuyi… your water…”
“Finish yours and order more! Why do you need mine?!”
“Cough… no time… cough cough… I’m choking… cough cough…”
Xia Liuyi couldn’t help laughing. He pushed over his half-finished glass of lemon water. “Poor bastard’s fate—eating lobster and you still manage to choke to death.”
He Chusan gulped down the water desperately, shooting him a resentful look. As if this isn’t your fault.
…
Stuffed full of rich food, He Chusan even packed the leftover bread to take home for breakfast the next day. Belly slightly rounded, schoolbag on his back, he slowly followed Xia Liuyi out of the Peninsula Hotel.
They walked back to the Cultural Centre parking lot. Xia Liuyi drove his black Mercedes onto Salisbury Road, then frowned slightly.
“Get down,” he said.
Without asking a single question, He Chusan shoved his bag to his feet and crouched down.
Xia Liuyi turned again, merging into a busier lane. At a red light, he said, “Climb to the back. Cover your face with clothes. Fasten your seatbelt.”
Hugging his bag, He Chusan scrambled through the gap between the seats into the back. He stuffed the bag down, buckled himself in, then grabbed Xia Liuyi’s discarded suit jacket and threw it over his head.
At first, he just held it there. Then, after a moment’s thought, he tied the sleeves under his chin, wrapping himself up like a dumpling, leaving only a tiny slit for his eyes. Just in case, he grabbed the overhead handle tightly.
Sure enough—
The light turned green.
Xia Liuyi slammed the accelerator!
VROOOOM—!
He Chusan’s vision blurred instantly as the car lurched violently—jerking, swerving, tilting left and right—
Behind them, three cars had appeared out of nowhere, tailing closely. They sped across two streets, weaving through turns, even pulling off a sharp drift on a main road.
Twenty minutes later, only one car remained.
Its driver, realizing Xia Liuyi had spotted them, dropped all pretense and floored the gas, the passenger already pulling out a gun.
Xia Liuyi glanced out the window expressionlessly—
Then suddenly jerked the steering wheel and rammed straight into them with the passenger side of his car!
Bang—!
With a deafening crash, the other car smashed through the roadside barrier and plunged into the harbor, sinking with a heavy splash. Two lackeys scrambled out of the windows, flailing in the water.
Xia Liuyi’s car, with only a broken headlight, sped off without a pause.
After weaving through a few more streets and confirming no one was following, he slowed down, lit a cigarette, and exhaled lazily. “You puke yet?”
“……”
In the back seat, He Chusan’s face had turned green as he fought desperately not to vomit.
He couldn’t puke—his head was wrapped like a dumpling. If he did, it’d all go straight onto his own face.
Xia Liuyi glanced at him through the rearview mirror, a grin tugging at his lips.
He Chusan slowly untied the suit from his head, loosened the seatbelt that had been pressing against his stomach—
—and immediately threw up into the already filthy jacket.
“Ugh—!”
Xia Liuyi burst out laughing, flicking his cigarette aside and tossing a box of tissues to hit him.
After Xia Liuyi had captured Fat Seven’s trusted man and hidden away his wife and child so thoroughly they couldn’t be found, Fat Seven had completely fallen out with him—declaring openly that he would take Xia Liuyi’s head.
That threat had barely cooled when they discovered Xia Liuyi driving alone into their territory. The three cars sent after him had lost him earlier that afternoon and had been circling around Tsim Sha Tsui, searching—never expecting his car to emerge casually from the Cultural Centre parking lot.
He went to watch a movie?!
Now all three cars had been effortlessly wiped out.
Standing by the broken guardrail, looking at the wreckage, Fat Seven raged, wishing he could rip the fat off his own belly and smash it into his useless subordinates’ faces.
Meanwhile, Xia Liuyi was in an excellent mood.
He parked by the edge of Jiaolong Walled City, got out, opened the back door, and personally hauled out the pale, nauseated He Chusan. Like brushing dirt off a stray dog, he shook and dusted him off, then stood him upright.
“Well? Fun?”
He Chusan was still weakly wiping his mouth with tissues. Only after cleaning himself up did he ask, completely off-topic, “Why didn’t you let them see me?”
“Stupid question,” Xia Liuyi said impatiently. “If they saw you, you think you’d still be alive to go to school? I’m busy—I don’t have time to assign people to protect you.”
He Chusan stared at him. “They’re your enemies? Trying to kill you?”
“People from that fat bastard last time,” Xia Liuyi replied, clearly annoyed at being pressed. “Enough. Go home.” He turned to leave.
But He Chusan grabbed his sleeve. “Is your life always this dangerous?”
“What do you think I am? The Governor?” Xia Liuyi scoffed. He tried to pull his sleeve free, about to snap—
—but when he turned, he saw the unusually serious look in He Chusan’s eyes. Genuine concern.
He clicked his tongue, his tone softening slightly. Ruffling his hair roughly, he said, “What are you worried about? You think your Brother Liuyi can’t handle it?”
“……”
Whether he could handle it or not… being hunted like this every day—something would go wrong eventually.
After hesitating, He Chusan said, “Next time… if it’s somewhere dangerous… don’t go.”
Xia Liuyi laughed. “All of Hong Kong is my turf. I’ll go wherever the hell I want. Stop worrying about stupid shit. Go back and sleep.”
He shook off He Chusan’s hand, climbed into the car with a cigarette still in his mouth, and sped off—exhaust blasting straight into He Chusan’s face.
He Chusan stood there, watching him disappear into the distance, then slowly turned and walked back into the Walled City.
Recently, while writing scripts for Xia Liuyi, he had read many novels about gang conflicts. He felt like he was witnessing the rise of a future kingpin—bold, cunning, deceptively carefree yet deeply calculating. Xia Liuyi had that potential.
But he might also be witnessing his eventual downfall.
The jianghu path was a road of no return. Few walked it to the end unscathed, fewer still died peacefully. Xia Liuyi’s recklessness and fearlessness could make him—or destroy him.
And beyond that, the crimes these underworld figures committed… even if their conscience felt nothing, heaven would still exact its due. Like Xu Ying, the thug on the rooftop, even Qinglong—who among them had a “good death”?
Justice might be slow, but it never misses.
He didn’t want Xia Liuyi to end up like that.
He didn’t know why—but he couldn’t view Xia Liuyi as a detached observer. He didn’t want to see him hurt. He wanted even less to see him meet a tragic end.
He Chusan, twenty-two years old, with one year left before graduating university, had always dreamed of one day taking his father out of this filthy, rotting mire.
And now—
He began to wonder if he could take one more person with him.
Lowering his head, he walked into the dark, decaying Walled City.
But somewhere in his heart, a small light had already begun to grow.
At that moment, he was still so young—so naive, so simple, so innocent.
He believed he could change the future.
Futile Devices Scans 
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