The O Bureau interrogated Xia Liuyi through the night. Several officers took turns questioning him. The air-conditioning was turned to its lowest, cold coffee and stale bread set before him. Yet before his lawyer arrived, Xia Liuyi did not utter a single word. After the lawyer came, he became even more impenetrable—armored without a single flaw. He had an alibi, records of a reported stolen vehicle, and with lazy yawns, he parried the officers’ questions like practicing Taiji, calm and unhurried.
After two days of relentless “wheel battles,” they obtained nothing.
In the adjoining room, Xie Jiahua’s subordinate—the young female officer—watched the surveillance footage and said angrily, “This is outrageous! We finally caught him—are we really just going to watch him walk free once the 48 hours are up?!”
“Hong Kong these days… isn’t it just a place where the triads cover the sun with one hand?” the male officer beside her said sarcastically, arms crossed. “He’s just here for a tour of the station! All our effort’s wasted—might as well go home and sleep early.”
Xie Jiahua, who had been watching the footage, raised his eyes. His gaze was icy. The male officer immediately shut up.
“If justice were easy to obtain, why would we need police?” Xie Jiahua said coldly.
“Yes, Sir!”
After reprimanding his subordinates, Xie Jiahua pushed open the door and entered the interrogation room. Xia Liuyi leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked, faint stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked slightly weary, yet relaxed and at ease. Beside him, his lawyer—also sleepless for two nights—was drenched in greasy sweat, dark circles under his eyes.
Impeccably dressed, Xie Jiahua sat opposite them.
“Xia Liuyi,” he said flatly.
“Sir Xie,” Xia Liuyi replied lazily.
“Those who play with fire will be consumed by it. Take care of yourself.”
Xia Liuyi curved his lips into a faint smile. “Much obliged for your concern, Sir Xie.”
A knock came from outside. Someone poked their head in. “Sir, your call.”
Xie Jiahua glanced at Xia Liuyi and stood to leave. Outside, he took the mobile phone handed to him. “Hello.”
“Sir Xie, I’ve been waiting for you at Lan Fong Yuen for an hour and a half. I’ve already refilled my milk tea twice—are you coming or not?”
Xie Jiahua checked his watch and said coldly, “Wait another fifteen minutes,” before hanging up.
After giving instructions to his subordinates to keep a close watch on Xia Liuyi, he left the station and walked two streets over to the café. Lu Guangming sat there doing a crossword puzzle in the newspaper, deliberately leaving two empty milk tea cups on the table.
“Boss, another milk tea,” he called out when he saw Xie Jiahua enter. “What’ll you have, Sir Xie?”
“A cup of hot water,” Xie Jiahua told the waiter.
“Just water?” Lu Guangming smiled. “Want something to eat?”
“Speak,” Xie Jiahua said.
Lu Guangming narrowed his eyes with a grin, skipping pleasantries. He pulled a folder from his briefcase and slid it over. “A list of Inspectors who had dealings with Xia Liuyi and Fat Seven, along with some related materials.”
Xie Jiahua flipped through it briefly, then closed it. “What do you want to know?”
“What I mentioned before—about ‘that person.’”
Xie Jiahua remained expressionless. “Why do you think I’d help you investigate my own kin?”
Lu Guangming chuckled. “Because you didn’t punch me, and you’re willing to sit here and drink milk tea with me. Sir Xie, you’ve had your suspicions too, haven’t you? Has higher-up told you lately to mind your own business?”
Xie Jiahua fell silent for a moment. “You’re not afraid I might be involved as well?”
Lu Guangming shrugged. “No.”
Just then, the waiter brought over the milk tea and hot water. Leaning back against the sofa, Lu Guangming took a sip and smacked his lips. “I trust you—because someone once mentioned you to me.”
“Tang Jiaqi,” he said. “Senior Investigator of the ICAC, died in the line of duty eight years ago. He was my senior… and also my cousin.”
In Xie Jiahua’s cup, the surface of the hot water rippled faintly.
……
It was eight in the evening. In the brightly lit office, half the staff still labored over their work. He Chusan sat among them, head lowered, flipping through a stack of documents.
After correcting two figures on his computer, he stared blankly at the mobile phone on his desk.
For the past two days, he had scarcely eaten a grain of rice. Yet the emptiness he felt was not in his stomach—but in his chest.
He picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. After hesitating, he set it back down.
After sitting in a daze for a while, he forced his attention back to the screen. Just as his fingers found the keyboard, the phone suddenly rang, vibrating with its melody.
He snatched it up. “Hello?!”
“Xiao San?” Cui Dongdong’s voice came through. “He’s back—at home. Come in two hours. There are others here.”
He Chusan froze for a moment, then sprang up, grabbing his briefcase as he dashed out. “Ricky! Shut down my computer for me!”
“Sam, what’s the rush—getting married or something?” a colleague teased behind him.
He Chusan sped back to his rented apartment, skipping even the step of unlocking the door—two days earlier, the police had kicked it in, and it still hadn’t been repaired. Fortunately, the place was remote enough that no thieves had come.
He quickly cooked a pot of lean pork congee, packed it into a thermos, and rushed again to Kowloon Tong. He waited near Xia Liuyi’s residence for nearly an hour, until he saw Xiao Ma and several men who looked like minor bosses exit and leave in separate cars. Only then did he clutch the thermos and rush inside.
The guards at the entrance recognized him and let him through without question. He hurried into the living room, where Xia Liuyi sat on the sofa wrapped in a thin blanket, speaking quietly with Cui Dongdong.
Bursting in, breathless, He Chusan caught Xia Liuyi’s attention. The latter’s eyes widened immediately.
Xia Liuyi turned to glare at Cui Dongdong. She shrugged. “Why glare at me? Wasn’t the first thing you asked after getting out about how he was? He’s fine—no missing limbs. I called him over so you could see for yourself.”
Xia Liuyi choked on his words, then turned back to look at the little rascal—only to find that, after hearing this, the boy had flushed red with emotion!
Face flushed, He Chusan stepped forward eagerly. “Brother Liuyi…”
“The hell—don’t come closer! Kneel right there!” The boss hadn’t vented his anger yet—he’d deal with him soon enough!
He Chusan paused, lowered his gaze, and obediently bent his knees, still clutching the thermos.
But Xia Liuyi suddenly remembered the injuries on his knees and barked again, “Stop! Stop! Go stand by the door! You’re annoying to look at!”
He Chusan straightened and obediently moved to the doorway, pressing himself against the wall. Xia Liuyi and Cui Dongdong resumed their quiet scheming. Once finished, Cui Dongdong rose smoothly to leave. As she passed He Chusan, she gave his shoulder a meaningful pat. “I’ll leave him to you, Xiao San.”
“What are you wasting words on with him?” Xia Liuyi snapped from inside. “Take him and get out!”
Cui Dongdong winked at He Chusan, raised a finger to her lips in a quiet “shh,” then gestured toward the room. Like a mouse, He Chusan slipped along the wall and crept back in.
He moved swiftly to the sofa, placing the thermos on the table. As if nothing had happened, he asked with concern, “Brother Liuyi, have you eaten?”
After two days of torment without rest, Xia Liuyi’s spirit remained strong, but his body had taken a toll. Wrapped in the blanket, he glared at He Chusan but lacked the energy to beat him again. He simply snorted and turned his face away, picking up the remote to watch television.
He Chusan, familiar with the place, slipped into the kitchen, prepared a bowl and spoon, and returned with a serving of congee. “Have some.”
Xia Liuyi ignored him.
He Chusan set the bowl down gently, then sat beside him.
A vein throbbed on Xia Liuyi’s forehead, yet he kept his gaze fixed on the television.
He Chusan quietly studied his profile—the stubble along his jaw, the bloodshot exhaustion in his eyes. This inexperienced young white-collar worker, raised on tales of brutal interrogations from the Walled City, knew nothing of Xia Liuyi’s ability to twist truth and dominate the world. Instead, he filled his mind with imagined sufferings the man must have endured over the past two days.
Looking at the man who had filled him with worry these past days, a flood of relief, joy, and aching concern swelled in his chest. He let out a soft sigh, leaned forward, and—through the thin blanket—wrapped his arms around Xia Liuyi.
He felt the instant stiffness, the surge of killing intent rising from him. Yet, fearless, he lowered his head, burying his face into Xia Liuyi’s shoulder, tightening his hold.
“Brother Liuyi… as long as you’re alright… I was really worried.”
Xia Liuyi stared expressionlessly at the television. The bright colors on the screen gradually blurred into chaos.
It felt as though something were gnawing at his heart—an ache spreading in fine, relentless threads.
He did not know what he was struggling against.
Nor what he was enduring.
Nor why this torment, this pain, this guilt and unease—had come to take hold of him.
No—he knew. He had always known.
A great portion of his heart was still reserved for that person. The gaping wound left behind when his heart had once been torn apart—raw and blood-soaked—was something he had never dared to face. The grotesque, bloodstained hollow carved into his very soul was something he had never been able to fill. He feared forgetting; he loathed the changes within himself, the sense of betrayal. He had no right—he dared not, could not, should not begin a new relationship.
Least of all with this brat.
He carried too heavy a past, and before him lay too narrow a future. He could not see where the two of them would ever end.
And yet, He Chusan’s embrace was too warm.
That unwavering gaze, that gentle breath, those words full of concern—the bold, resolute arms wrapped around him… all of it was too warm. He did not have the strength to push him away.
He could not deny it—he doted on this brat. He cared about him. This seemingly honest boy who was in truth full of sly schemes; this stubborn, resolute, clever little bastard… He could not deny the longing and emptiness that had lingered in his heart through these past months of deliberate distance.
During those forty-eight hours in the interrogation room, what echoed in his mind again and again was not how to clear his name, nor how to deal with Xie Jiahua, nor how to maneuver once he got out—
—but the look in He Chusan’s eyes when they parted: wronged yet furious, worried yet reluctant to let go.
That one call of “Brother Liuyi” had made his heart ache.
Xia Liuyi sat stiffly, staring at the bowl of congee on the coffee table, until the thin wisps of steam gradually dissipated…
At last, somewhat weary and tinged with pain, he closed his eyes, let out a long breath, then opened them again.
“How’s your leg injury?” he asked hoarsely.
He Chusan’s arms trembled almost imperceptibly. He rubbed his head lightly against Xia Liuyi’s shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“Let me see.”
He Chusan released him, lowered his head, and lifted both trouser legs. From the knees downward were thin cuts, already scabbed over. Though long and narrow, they did not appear deep, nor had they injured bone or tendon.
Xia Liuyi examined them carefully, then extended a hand from beneath the blanket and pressed lightly against his kneecap.
He Chusan sucked in a sharp breath, brows knitting as he endured the pain.
“Hurts?”
“…Mm.”
“Serves you right,” Xia Liuyi said softly. “Try anything reckless again, and I’ll break both your legs.”
He Chusan nodded obediently, his attitude of admitting fault perfectly earnest. “I won’t dare again, Brother Liuyi.”
“Next time before I kiss you, I’ll tell you first,” he added solemnly.
“Like this.”
He leaned forward—and once again covered Xia Liuyi’s lips with his own.
“……”
Unexpectedly, he was not pushed away.
The one being kissed closed his eyes, indulging his audacity for the countless time. After a long while, a pair of hands emerged from beneath the blanket, circling his shoulders and back, fingers gently threading into his hair.
Amid the soft, lingering touch of lips and tongues, He Chusan recalled that night two years ago—on that rooftop as deep and desolate as a dried well—when Xia Liuyi had spoken with him.
He had asked then why Xia Liuyi could not acknowledge that love, why he dared not face it. He could not understand why two people who loved each other had to avoid one another, to think of each other yet drift ever farther apart.
Xia Liuyi had ruffled his hair and told him: You don’t understand. There are too many things that are beyond one’s control.
Now—he understood.
For love, too, was such a thing beyond one’s control.
……
Xia Liuyi walked out of the police station unscathed. A few days later, he convened a grand assembly of underworld leaders.
At the meeting, he produced one of Fat Seven’s trusted subordinates and also summoned Fat Seven’s flamboyant girlfriend, Lai Sanmei. The moment she saw the photos of the dancer Fat Seven had been secretly keeping—especially the dazzling diamond ring on the dancer’s hand—she immediately defected. She admitted that Fat Seven had harbored ill intent from the start and even produced a recording of his dealings with the steward of the Hua residence—originally meant as leverage.
With his trusted man also confessing the entire scheme, the He faction, which had been clamoring for justice, was left speechless and could only drop the matter.
Xia Liuyi naturally seized control of Fat Seven’s docks and annexed the territory of the “Sha Family Gang” that Fat Seven had previously taken, claiming it as compensation for his own losses. Meanwhile, the “He Yi Society” absorbed the leaderless “Hesheng Society,” taking over the remainder of Fat Seven’s holdings.
As the assembly dispersed, Master Qiao—the head of the He Yi Society—gave Xia Liuyi a meaningful smile. Though wary, Xia Liuyi was not overly concerned.
The Xiaoqi Hall was no longer a small gang confined to the Jiaolong Walled City. In just over two years under Xia Liuyi’s leadership, it had expanded across much of Kowloon, boasting hundreds of subordinates and dozens of businesses—nightclubs, discos, restaurants, clubs, billiard halls, roller rinks, gambling dens, brothels, and more. After the downfall of Boss Sha and Fat Seven, it had even become one of the few upper-tier suppliers of “white powder,” with entertainment venues from all sides seeking their goods. The Xiaoqi Hall could raise prices at will, its power immense.
Though the He Yi Society was an old and deeply rooted organization, swallowing Xia Liuyi whole would not be so easy. Besides, their main power lay on Hong Kong Island—separated by the harbor. Even gathering forces in Kowloon meant worrying about traffic through the cross-harbor tunnel. Their reach could not fully extend.
Afterward, under the pretext of rooting out informants and reorganizing the gang, Xia Liuyi removed the “white paper fans” and “straw sandals” planted by the elders, leaving only the “red pole” Scarhead recommended by Elder Ge—mainly because he was useful. Scarhead, deeply grateful for Xia Liuyi’s recognition, was ready to repay him with utmost loyalty. Elder Ge, having been shown face, could hardly find fault, while the other elders, though displeased, could do nothing.
Externally, Xia Liuyi cleared obstacles; internally, he purged his ranks. His subordinates were all capable and obedient—matters of beating or killing never required his personal attention. Freed of such burdens, he devoted his time to playing cat-and-mouse with Sir Xie. After several rounds, neither side gained much advantage.
After kissing him a second time that day, He Chusan had boldly tried to go further—only to be slapped away. The brat left in grievance, but the next day took leave from work and came running back, cooking three meals and watching movies with him all day. On the third day, work called him away again, and one stretch of overtime kept him gone for an entire month. They could only talk over the phone, He Chusan tapping away at his keyboard while murmuring sweet nonsense:
“Brother Liuyi, I miss you.”
“Brother Liuyi, did you brush your teeth today?”
“Bullshit! Get lost!” Xia Liuyi cursed.
From the other end came a soft laugh. “Sounds like you miss me too.”
“……” Xia Liuyi.
Xia Liuyi smashed one mobile phone a day, scratched at his bed twice daily, ruined three toothbrushes in a month—and even, in secret and in a huff, went to a dental clinic for cosmetic treatment.
He Chusan, meanwhile, made do sleeping in his wrecked rented room for over ten days before finally finding time to clean up, change the locks, and tidy everything. Then he searched beneath the sofa for what he had hidden the day Xia Liuyi was arrested.
All he found was the camera Xia Liuyi had smashed in half.
The photos and film were gone.
Suspicious, he searched everywhere, finding nothing. In the end, he could only assume rats had taken them—and consoled himself: Well, the man’s mine anyway. I can secretly take photos whenever I like… just need to buy extra knee pads.
……
One warm weekend, before the chill of late autumn set in, Xia Liuyi personally drove to He Chusan’s office, dragged the overworking elite away, and took him to the seaside for a barbecue.
The bodyguards rudely cleared an entire stretch of beach. Xiao Ma and Scarhead set up the grill, while Cui Dongdong and her round-faced little songstress lounged on deck chairs, watching the spectacle.
“Boss! Flip the wings in the middle—they’re burning! Do you even know how to grill?” Cui Dongdong called out, sipping lemonade.
“Keep yapping and do it yourself!” Xia Liuyi snapped, his face blackened with smoke. “He A-San, where’s the oil?!”
Squatting at his feet reading documents, He Chusan stood, handed him the oil bottle, then silently crouched back down.
Xia Liuyi kicked him. “We’re out here having fun—what are you reading?! Read again and I’ll burn it!”
“I’ve got a professional exam next month. Let me finish this page,” He Chusan coaxed.
With a flick of his tongs, Xia Liuyi lifted the book straight over the fire. He Chusan scrambled to snatch it back. “Alright, alright—I’m coming!”
“You damn brat—itching for a beating! Flip those wings for me!”
“Yes, yes—right away.”
Not far off, Xiao Ma muttered to Scarhead while skewering sausages, “Don’t you think that He kid’s getting weirder? Look at that stupid grin when he looks at the boss! Damn it—what’s he doing now?!”
He Chusan was gently holding up Xia Liuyi’s eyelid, blowing away a speck of ash from the corner of his eye when Xiao Ma shouted, “Hey, He! Come skewer sausages!”
Before He Chusan could respond, Xia Liuyi roared with his eyes closed, “I’m not done using him—what are you grabbing him for?!”
“Boss, I wasn’t—I just saw him idle, hehe…”
“Get lost! Hurry up and finish the sausages and bring them over!”
“Yes!”
Xiao Ma lowered his head, grinding his teeth. “One day I’ll chop that brat up behind the boss’s back…”
Scarhead kept his head down, scraping fish scales, not daring to reply.
Xia Liuyi’s grilling skills were atrocious—he nearly set his own clothes on fire within moments. He Chusan quickly ushered him aside and took over, rolling up his sleeves.
“Brother Liuyi, busy lately?” he asked while brushing oil.
“Not as busy as you, Elite He! Disappeared for a month—had to drag you out myself?”
He Chusan chuckled softly. “Sorry. Work’s been too much.”
Xia Liuyi snorted. “What, promoted to general manager now?”
He Chusan still smiled, honest and simple. “No. But it’s really too busy lately—I don’t even want to keep at it… Maybe I should come work for you? Give me two months’ leave every year?”
Xia Liuyi paused mid-motion.
Two years ago, he had schemed to recruit this finance prodigy into his ranks—to handle laundering and accounts, to make full use of him.
But now, hearing this half-joking suggestion, he hesitated.
He no longer wanted the clean-handed He Chusan dragged into his muddy world.
He put a cigarette to his lips and lit it. “Back then, you were afraid just looking at accounts would blind you. Now you’re begging me? I’ve got no use for you—get lost!”
He Chusan “rolled” one step closer, clinging to him. “Brother Liuyi…”
Irritated, Xia Liuyi elbowed him aside, changing the subject. “Too busy, huh? Looks like you’re enjoying it just fine.”
“I’ve thought about it,” He Chusan said. “Too busy isn’t good. At this rate, I won’t even have time to visit my father.”
Xia Liuyi snorted again.
“Or spend time with you.”
“……”
Before Xia Liuyi could explode at the goosebumps crawling all over him, Cui Dongdong suddenly stood up, covering her ears. “This is terrible! If I listen any longer, I’ll be silenced! Xiao Luo, come on—we’re taking a walk!”
“Walk my ass! Get over here and brush the oil! He A-San, get over there and skewer sausages!”
Futile Devices Scans 
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