Futile Devices Scans

On his way home, just after passing the second traffic light, Xia Liuyi realized he was being tailed.

The trackers were well-trained, operating in two vehicles that alternated—one would follow through an intersection, then peel off at a fork, with the next car taking over. Yet Xia Liuyi spotted them in no time at all, for one simple reason: their license plates were utterly lacking in finesse—one ended in “61”Liuyi, the other in “R3” Ah-San.

Boss Xia was already in a foul mood. Seeing these two damn cars trailing him like a pair of matching lover’s plates only made his temper flare. Without another word, he spun the wheel and rammed straight toward the so-called “Ah San” car tailing him.

The car braked sharply, barely avoiding the collision. It reversed a few meters, swung its front around, and fled from behind him, speeding off. During the reverse, Xia Liuyi caught a glimpse inside—two unfamiliar young men sat in the front.

Few dared to tail the boss within the territory of Xiaoqi Hall. Though Xia Liuyi appeared to be alone, his men were scattered nearby, ready to rush in at any sign of trouble. He turned the wheel and slammed the accelerator, giving chase.

In an instant, the hunter and the hunted reversed roles—the “paparazzi” became prey to a tiger. The two youths in the Ah-San car were thrown into utter panic. Xia Liuyi’s driving was ferocious; he clung to them relentlessly, chasing from Kowloon Tong onto Waterloo Road, racing all the way to Mong Kok. Seizing a moment, he rammed their rear once more, knocking the “Ah-San” plate crooked.

The further they went, the heavier the traffic grew. The two cars tore through the bustling district, ignoring traffic lights, weaving through streams of vehicles. The screech of brakes, blaring horns, and roaring engines echoed loudly; pedestrians scattered in alarm across zebra crossings.

Such reckless speeding during the festive season alarmed not only civilians but traffic police as well. Two helmeted officers on motorcycles trailed behind them, sirens wailing. Realizing the situation had turned bad, the Ah-San car obediently pulled over. Xia Liuyi reined in his pursuit and stopped as well.

Leaning back in his seat, he tilted his head and lit a cigarette, exhaling leisurely as he rolled down the window.

“Driver’s license,” said a young officer beneath his peaked cap. “You’re suspected of running red lights, speeding… Xia Liuyi?!”

Xia Liuyi lifted his eyes slightly, cigarette in his mouth, and saw the officer’s face—shocked and furious. It was none other than the junior inspector from last year who had failed in “saving the damsel” and instead been branded a “paramour”.

Those who remember will recall—this was the probationary inspector who refused to collude with them and was subsequently framed by Xia Liuyi and Cui Dongdong, photographed in compromising situations and blackmailed into cooperation. He had resisted stubbornly, refusing even the blackmail. In retaliation, those photos were sent to gossip tabloids and even to his uncle, a deputy commissioner. Stripped of dignity, beaten by his own uncle, demoted repeatedly, he was cast out to direct traffic on the streets.

He knew well he had fallen victim to Xia Liuyi’s schemes. Now, meeting his enemy, his eyes burned red with hatred—he longed to drag Xia Liuyi from the car and tear him apart. Xia Liuyi, however, remained utterly calm, acknowledging him with a cigarette between his lips.

“Inspector Xie.”

No longer an “inspector,” Officer Xie’s fury surged. He slammed a fist against the car window and roared, “Show your ID! You’re now suspected of drug possession and carrying firearms—get out of the car for inspection, and open the trunk!”

At that moment, the other car—the one with the “61” plate—arrived. A man stepped out from the passenger seat, voice stern.

“Stop.”

Xie Jiabao turned. “Brother Hua?!”

The newcomer cast him a glance devoid of expression. Xie Jiabao immediately straightened and saluted. “Sir!”

The man appeared in his thirties, dressed in a sharply tailored suit. Lean and angular, his features seemed carved from stone. His pale face bore no expression, his eyes dark and unfathomable. He was like a slab of lifeless iron.

“The car ahead is one of ours,” he murmured to Xie Jiabao, then stepped forward to greet Xia Liuyi. “Mr. Xia.”

Xia Liuyi removed the cigarette from his lips, giving him a rare, direct look.

“First meeting, Mr. Xia—your skills are indeed extraordinary,” the man said. “I am Senior Inspector Xie Jiahua of the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau (O Bureau).”

Flicking ash from his cigarette, Xia Liuyi chuckled. “Another Xie? Is the police station run by your family? On a holiday like this, Inspector Xie’s ‘greeting gift’ is quite thoughtful. Instead of celebrating the New Year at home, you and your brothers come out to escort me—how can I not feel ashamed? How about I give everyone a red envelope, treat you to late-night food and drinks, and you head home early to rest?”

“No need for red envelopes,” Xie Jiahua replied. “If Mr. Xia commits fewer acts of murder and arson in the coming year, my brothers will sleep easier.”

Xia Liuyi smiled. “I’ve always been a law-abiding citizen. No need for Inspector Xie’s concern.”

Xie Jiahua smiled faintly as well. For a brief moment, something like a spring breeze softened his cold face—but it vanished just as quickly. Straightening, he waved a hand at Xie Jiabao.

“Let’s go.”

Xie Jiabao followed reluctantly. “But cousin, he—”

Xie Jiahua placed a hand on his shoulder, pressing down firmly without drawing attention. “Not yet. We move slowly.”

Grievance and fury burning within him, Xie Jiabao mounted his motorcycle. The group departed amid wailing sirens. Xia Liuyi remained where he was, taking a few drags from his cigarette before reinforcements from Xiaoqi Hall arrived upon hearing the news.

Four vans screeched to a halt around his car. The red pole, Big Scarhead, leapt out with a machete in hand, shouting anxiously, “Boss! You alright?!”

“Which blind bastards dared race our boss?!” he roared, scanning the surroundings, muscles bulging, face fierce.

Xiao Ma lacked courage—this one lacked brains. Already in a foul mood, Xia Liuyi’s head began to ache at the sight of him. He slapped him aside. “Get lost and go to sleep!”

Restarting the car, Xia Liuyi cast a casual glance at the passenger seat—

The thermos of soup from He Chusan had overturned during the chase, its contents spilling everywhere, soaking the entire seat.

……

That year’s Spring Festival for Boss Xia began tense and cautious, then turned restless and agitated—his entire being seemed stamped with dissatisfaction. Big Scarhead had not been with him long and didn’t yet understand how to read his moods, only following him like a stubborn bull. Xia Liuyi found no fault in him, yet no amusement either, leaving him with pent-up frustration.

At last, on the third day of the New Year, Xiao Ma returned from Guangzhou, and the boss finally found an outlet.

Closing the office door, Xia Liuyi unleashed a furious tirade upon him.

“I told you and Cui Dongdong to find those stirring trouble on my turf—yet you find no one and instead bring the O Bureau down on me! In the middle of the New Year, you bring me bad luck! Go investigate immediately—what’s the background of that Xie fellow? Who’s he putting on that righteous face for? And how much tribute does he expect to collect each year?!”

Having grown noticeably plumper over the holidays, Xiao Ma clutched his head and stammered. After being thoroughly chewed out, he stumbled out of the office, kicking a subordinate who came up to him.

“Damn it! It must be that brat surnamed He who pissed the boss off!”

Grinding his fists, Xiao Ma swore that one day he would skin and flay that boy to avenge himself.

Meanwhile, the boy in question—utterly unaware—enjoyed a peaceful and pleasant New Year. His life steadily improved. In March, he received his first promotion—from trainee to full staff member. Shortly after, he used a small connection within the company to bring in his “girlfriend” Xiao He as a front desk receptionist.

Their relationship grew ever closer, while Xia Liuyi lost interest in sending people to tail him—mainly because the reports only irritated him.

Every time, it was the same—

That brat cooked some dish for Xiao He, Xiao He knitted some sweater for him… back and forth, endlessly sweet to the point of nausea.

Xia Liuyi had no leisure to meddle in He Chusan’s affairs for the time being, for he had finally uncovered the true identity of Xie Jiahua.

Xie Jiahua—cousin to Xie Jiabao, a Senior Inspector, thirty-one years of age, son of a Deputy Commissioner of Police, born into a lineage of law enforcement. At eighteen, he had already entered the ranks of the O Bureau.

It was said that when he first joined, he was but a frivolous wastrel, a gilded youth who drifted aimlessly. Yet after a close brother of his entered the Independent Commission Against Corruption, and was captured during an investigation—locked within a freezing plant and left to perish alive in ice—Xie Jiahua changed utterly. As though infused with fervor, he swore never to rest until corrupt officials and lawless villains alike were swept clean. To uphold justice, he labored with tireless devotion, and over the years cracked numerous major cases, earning extraordinary promotion to Senior Inspector.

In short—this man was a true lofty peak beyond reach. His backing was formidable, his learning profound, his experience abundant, and his resolve immovable. Whether honeyed words or iron threats, none could sway him. Rumor even had it that he carried the memorial tablet of his fallen brother at all times—blessed, as if by the dead themselves. Over the years he had faced no fewer than twenty attempts—warnings, threats, ambushes, assassinations both covert and overt—and yet remained utterly unscathed. The gravest incident occurred three years prior, when a bomb exploded in his apartment; even then, only his Filipino maid was injured. The matter alarmed his Deputy Commissioner father, who forcibly sent him abroad for further study. In America, he pursued a Master’s degree in Criminal Psychology, returning to Hong Kong in August of the previous year.

Now returned from the lands of the West, Sir Xie stood armed in both body and mind—his righteous spirit ablaze, his knowledge vast, even his physique honed, with two additional ridges of muscle upon his abdomen. Whether among the underworld or the righteous path, any who dared so much as scratch him in secret would find themselves seized in an iron grip, stripped bare without mercy.

Xia Liuyi could scarcely believe that such a “pure” officer still existed in Hong Kong. Against such an impregnable foe—a fortress of bronze walls and iron bastions—he and Cui Dongdong pondered long and hard, yet could devise no flawless stratagem. Wealth could not bribe him, force could not eliminate him, and ordinary schemes held no power over him.

Fortunately, no matter how formidable, he was still but a mere Senior Inspector. With so many “Inspectors” in the force still eager to “care” for the jianghu, Xie Jiahua’s path of righteousness was fraught with obstacles—for now, he could not easily move against Xia Liuyi.

Nor did Xie Jiahua’s gaze linger long upon Xia Liuyi. The first to fall was the loosely organized and poorly guarded Boss Sha. This underworld leader, like Xia Liuyi, hailed from Jiaolong Walled City, commanding several lines of narcotics production and trade. After months of careful preparation, Xie Jiahua struck during a transaction between Boss Sha and Burmese traffickers, capturing both sides in one decisive sweep. The Burmese resisted and were gunned down; Boss Sha fled less than five hundred meters before Xie Jiahua shot him through the leg from behind and personally apprehended him.

With Boss Sha imprisoned, the Sha Family Gang fell into rapid decline. Seeing his former ally beyond salvation, Fat Seven naturally absorbed all his territory—and, along the way, took in his several delicate and beautiful concubines. Upon hearing this in prison, Boss Sha ground his teeth in hatred and willingly turned state witness, exposing numerous crimes of Fat Seven. Though not enough to shake his foundations, it forced Fat Seven to tread cautiously for a time.

Watching from across the river as the fire burned, Xia Liuyi sensed the acrid scent of danger in the wind. Though not directly involved, he issued strict orders to his men: remain vigilant, speak cautiously, act prudently—above all, do not provoke Sir Xie.

Amid such turmoil, the months slipped by, and in the blink of an eye, June arrived. It was the season of soaring hawks and flourishing grass, the sea breeze carrying warmth upon its breath. And with it came the grand revelry of the Xiaoqi Hall—the birthday of their great boss.

As before, they gathered at the same nightclub as last year. A veritable forest of wine and flesh, revelry lasting through the night—one after another drank themselves senseless, unable even to find the door.

Xia Liuyi, together with Cui Dongdong, slipped away early under the pretense of relieving himself, bringing along a trusted Straw Sandal subordinate. The three withdrew to an upstairs office, sobering themselves while discussing important matters. In the end, Xia Liuyi dismissed the subordinate, remaining behind to speak privately with Cui Dongdong.

“I see no fault in Big Scarhead,” Cui Dongdong said, shaking his head, “but he was recommended by Elder Ge. I do not favor placing too much trust in him.”

“Doubt a man, do not use him. Use a man, do not doubt him,” Xia Liuyi replied. “For the past half year, he has done his duties well enough.”

Cui Dongdong shrugged. “You are the big boss; your word is law. But the winds are tight of late. Uncle Yuan is uneasy—he asked me privately to advise you: act with caution, do not be too ostentatious, and avoid provoking the police.”

Xia Liuyi cursed. “What the hell have I done to be ostentatious? I’ve already tucked my tail between my legs—is that not enough?”

“The old man favors caution,” Cui Dongdong said. “He has never approved of your conflict with Fat Seven growing so large. It makes things difficult with the Inspectors. Now that Organized Crime and Triad Bureau has set its sights on us, you still insist on doing business so openly—he fears Xiaoqi Hall will be ruined in your hands.”

“He knows shit!” Xia Liuyi snapped. “Old bones—I won’t stoop to argue with him! Give him three hundred thousand in red packets, let him retire in peace!”

“No matter how generous you are, he may not understand your intentions.”

“Hmm?”

Cui Dongdong paused. “The elders only wish to strengthen and preserve the syndicate. Who sits as boss is irrelevant. Back then, he supported you over Xu Ying because you were young—easier to control. But if one day you cease to obey…”

Xia Liuyi’s brows drew together as he sneered coldly, finishing the thought: “If one day I don’t obey, he wants to replace me?—That depends on whether he has the ability.”

Cui Dongdong tapped ash from his cigar, saying nothing, though a trace of hesitation lingered in his expression.

“What? You think I’m in the wrong too?”

Cui Dongdong shook his head. “Other than Qinglong, you’re the only boss I acknowledge. Your judgment is sharp, your actions have reason. And you’re my brother—by reason and by feeling, I stand with you. But he is right about one thing—the police are watching you. I worry for your safety.”

Xia Liuyi raked a hand through his hair, irritated. “Enough. I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

He pressed the phone on the desk. “Send up two bowls of wonton noodles.”

Along with the noodles came his bodyguard, A-Yong, cautiously peering in. “Boss.”

“What is it?”

“An hour ago, someone delivered a gift for you. You said not to be disturbed, so I set it aside.”

“Bring it in.”

A-Yong carried in a loosely wrapped gift box—clearly already opened and inspected. He set it on the table and withdrew.

Xia Liuyi eyed the crude package with suspicion. Even the carefully tied ribbon had been undone during inspection. He opened the lid—inside was an exquisitely crafted fruit cake.

Only, it bore several stab marks from a long blade, and a piece had been cut away and tasted—checking for bombs or poison. The fruit decorations had been crushed out of shape, ruining its appearance.

Xia Liuyi picked up a card attached to the box. Opening it, he saw four neatly written characters: “Happy Liuyi,” and above them, as always, a crudely drawn birthday cake.

Card:

— I wanted to give you a cake this big, but I didn’t have enough money. So I’m giving you a paper one for now. Next year, when I’m working, I’ll make it up to you.

“Who sent it?” Cui Dongdong leaned closer, trying to read the card—but Xia Liuyi suddenly pulled it back, crumpling it tightly in his palm.

He did not answer. He did not even register what Cui Dongdong said next. Abruptly, he straightened—before he himself realized it, he had already strode out in long steps!

……

Xia Liuyi pushed past drunken revelers blocking the corridor. His face remained composed, but his pace quickened with every step. Minutes later, he stood at the nightclub entrance—behind him, a riot of neon decadence and writhing shadows; before him, a dimly lit street, sparsely populated.

Not seeing He Chusan, he seized the doorman by the collar. “Where’s the one who delivered the gift?”

“H–Boss!”

“The one who brought that box—weren’t you the one who received it?!” A-Yong barked as he caught up.

“Oh—him!” the doorman stammered. “He left right after delivering it!”

Xia Liuyi shoved him aside, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Lighting a cigarette, he stood still, then said, “Phone.”

A-Yong handed him the brick-sized mobile. Xia Liuyi clenched the cigarette between his teeth and dialed.

After a long wait, the call was finally answered.

“Brother Liuyi,” came the respectful voice of that wretched brat.

“Where are you?”

“Happy birthday.”

“Where are you?”

“Is the cake good?”

“I’m asking where the hell you are!”

“…Almost home.”

“Why didn’t you come in to see me?”

“No. You’re busy—I didn’t want to disturb you.”

The brat had barely finished speaking when the nightclub behind Xia Liuyi changed its music—soft love songs shifting into pounding drums. Xia Liuyi’s brows knit—because he could clearly hear the same sound through the phone.

“He Chusan! Get your ass out here!” he barked toward a furtive figure at the corner across the street.

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