He Chusan’s plaster cast would only come off after two months. During this period, Xia Liuyi was exceedingly busy and had little time to accompany him. Left at home, He Chusan spent his days reading and tending plants, amusing himself quite contentedly.
Seeing how he enjoyed digging about in the courtyard, the bodyguards wanted to buy him some rare and expensive flowers and plants, but he raised his plastered leg in refusal. Instead, he tied one of Xia Liuyi’s practice staffs to a shovel, fashioning a makeshift tool for wheelchair use, and found a long pair of fire tongs. With shovel in his left hand and tongs in his right, he would, every few days, dig up nameless wildflowers and weeds from outside and transplant them in front of the small building.
That evening, when Xia Liuyi returned, he had barely stepped out of the car when he saw yet another crooked row of dogtail grass planted in the yard.
“What the hell is this!” Xiao Ma, leading the way, cursed. “Why are you always planting this shabby junk in the boss’s yard! None of you stop him?! Tear it all out! Tear it out!”
“What’s it to you!” Xia Liuyi kicked him aside from behind and gestured to the bodyguards. “Put up a fence around it.”
Seeing how fiercely the boss protected his “calf,” Xiao Ma felt both bitter and aggrieved, trailing after him with a mournful expression.
Inside the living room, He Chusan sat on the sofa holding a book, eyes closed in rest. Hearing Xia Liuyi enter, he opened his eyes and smiled. “Brother Liuyi, you’re back. Have you eaten? There’s hot porridge.”
“Brother Ma,” he added, noticing the man behind him.
Xiao Ma glared at him full of resentment, while He Chusan returned an innocent, bewildered expression.
“Carry him upstairs,” Xia Liuyi ordered A-Sen and A-Nan. “Then stand guard outside.”
He cleared out all idle personnel and sat on the sofa to discuss important matters with Xiao Ma. Upstairs, He Chusan craned his neck, straining to listen, but could only vaguely catch words like “Chiang Mai” and “Jade Guanyin”.
After muttering with Xiao Ma for half an hour, Xia Liuyi dismissed him. He then went into the kitchen, scooped a bowl of fish porridge, spotted a jar of meat floss on the cabinet, sprinkled some in casually, and carried the bowl upstairs, slurping as he ate.
He Chusan held his book, sitting properly on the bed, looking every bit the diligent reader. Seeing Xia Liuyi enter while eating, he said, “Brother Liuyi, there are still dishes left in the pot.”
With a spoon in his mouth, Xia Liuyi shook his head, set the half-eaten bowl on the bedside, tossed the spoon in, and grabbed a bottle of beer from the mini fridge below.
He Chusan had no idea how Xia Liuyi had developed such a habit—skipping proper dinner, taking a few random bites of porridge, then starting on beer. After living here for over a month, he had come to understand even more deeply how Xia Liuyi lived his private life like utter chaos—sleep schedules upside down, eating habits a mess. Whether in a good mood or bad, he would smoke, drink, and snack until late into the night. It was already December, yet he still slept in a sleeveless shirt, kicking off the blankets in his sleep. When He Chusan kindly covered him, he would, half-awake and highly alert, respond with “domestic violence”…
No wonder Cui Dongdong would pat his shoulder each time she visited, looking as though she had endured hardship and finally seen the light: “Xiao San, hang in there—once you’ve moved in, don’t leave. Saving the boss depends on you!”
Bearing this ultimate mission of “saving the boss,” He Chusan dragged his plastered leg over with difficulty, snatched the beer bottle from Xia Liuyi’s hand, returned it to the fridge, and soothed him before he could explode. “Brother Liuyi, my leg is injured—I can’t drink alcohol.”
“What the hell does it have to do with me if you can’t—” Xia Liuyi began, baffled, but before he could finish cursing, He Chusan grabbed his head and planted a loud kiss on him. Smack!
“Alcohol can be transmitted through kissing,” the well-read scholar explained solemnly after taking advantage.
“Bullshit!”
He Chusan earnestly persuaded the boss to give up beer and instead eat the cookies he had baked that afternoon. Though their shapes were strange and their color questionable, they were at least fragrant and crisp.
Xia Liuyi chewed cookies while gulping down the milk He Chusan had taken from the fridge, asking vaguely, “You getting the cast off tomorrow?”
“Mm.”
His puffed cheeks paused. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning—back before Christmas. Let Dongdong take you to the hospital.”
“Where are you going?”
Xia Liuyi glanced at him, expression calm. “Don’t ask so much. And stop fishing information from A-Nan—he’s dumb, worried he’ll slip up, can’t even sleep.”
He Chusan blinked. No wonder A-Nan had been avoiding him lately.
“Brother Liuyi,” he decided not to hide it and confessed honestly, “I want to join your company. And I want to persuade you not to go to Thailand. Master Qiao agreed to cooperate because of the ‘white powder’ business, right? Are you going to Thailand to meet ‘those people’?”
Xia Liuyi lost his appetite. Forcing down what was in his mouth, his voice sank. “You’re overstepping.”
He Chusan lowered his gaze to the half cookie in Xia Liuyi’s hand. “Have you ever considered going legit? With Xiaoqi Hall’s current assets, you could run proper businesses. There’s no need to keep doing this…”
“Shut up!” Xia Liuyi cut him off, frowning, suppressing anger. “I let you stay here—not so you could point fingers at me.”
After a pause, He Chusan still tried to finish. “There are other ways…”
Bang!
Xia Liuyi slammed the cookie onto the bedside table, crumbs scattering everywhere.
He Chusan wisely fell silent, lowering his eyes.
Xia Liuyi rubbed the crumbs off his hands irritably, reaching for the milk—then changing direction midway, opening the fridge to take out another bottle of beer.
“Brother Liuyi,” He Chusan spoke again, “I’m not a pet you’re keeping, nor do I want to be just your underground lover. I don’t want to stay out of things while constantly worrying about your safety. I know Xiaoqi Hall’s background is complicated, and stopping those ‘businesses’ is difficult, but—”
“I said shut up!” Xia Liuyi slammed the beer onto the bedside table!
The bottle stood upright with a dull thud, but a crack snaked across the glass. Beer seeped out, soaking the table and carpet.
He Chusan closed his mouth again.
“I already knew you’ve been sneaking around with something on your mind!” Xia Liuyi roared. “Don’t play Jesus in front of me! Don’t try to reform me! I’m rotten to the bone—a goddamn triad! If you can’t stand me, then get the hell out!”
Silence filled the room, broken only by the faint dripping of beer onto the carpet. After a long while, He Chusan spoke softly.
“I want to take a bath. Is that okay?”
Xia Liuyi, face dark, called the bodyguards in to clean up and carry He Chusan to bathe. A-Sen, tasked with washing the “madam”, was extremely nervous. While carefully soaping He Chusan’s back, he whispered, “Mr. He… did you quarrel with the boss?”
“It’s nothing,” He Chusan replied calmly. He had expected Xia Liuyi to be displeased—just not this furious, unwilling to hear even a single extra word.
Though the attempt had failed, he wasn’t particularly disheartened. Xia Liuyi was the type—shrewd and calm outside, but prickly and explosive with those close to him. Who understood him better than He Chusan? Raised without guidance, adopted by a triad boss in youth, growing up in filth—talking to him about right and wrong was like playing the lute to a cow.
He knew Xia Liuyi’s anger was not only about disliking interference—it was also because he didn’t want He Chusan to know too much, didn’t want to drag him into the mire. What he couldn’t understand was why Xia Liuyi insisted on walking a dark road to the very end, refusing even to discuss going legit.
Lost in thought, he remained silent. A-Sen, seeing this, assumed he was heartbroken over the quarrel. After much hesitation, he awkwardly tried to comfort him. “Don’t worry… the boss values feelings deeply. When you were captured last time, he was really worried. He wouldn’t fall out with you over something small…”
“Thank you, Brother Sen,” He Chusan said sincerely. “Actually, I need a favor—after this, carry me downstairs to the sofa. Make it noticeable.”
“Uh? The boss didn’t say you should sleep there…”
“Please.”
A-Sen complied, calling A-Nan to help. They made a big show of moving things, preparing the sofa, intending to relocate He Chusan—who had “angered the boss and felt too ashamed to stay in his bed.”
But the moment Xia Liuyi heard the commotion, he came out with a dark expression, stopped them, smacked He Chusan on the head with a pillow, knocked him dizzy, and carried him back upstairs.
He Chusan curled up on the boss’s bed, playing dead—only to be smacked awake again.
“I’m annoyed, Movie King He! Cut the act!”
He Chusan opened his eyes obediently, seeing Xia Liuyi’s dark face, and immediately lowered himself. “Brother Liuyi, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For trying to reason with you…”
Smack!
This time he was truly dazed. Half-asleep, he pulled the blanket over himself and simply pretended to sleep for real.
Xia Liuyi turned off the light, pulled over another quilt, and lay with his back to him. In the darkness, he said quietly, “Forget everything you said earlier. From now on, don’t ask about my business in any way. Stay here and recover. Don’t listen to what you shouldn’t, don’t ask what you shouldn’t.”
In his haze, He Chusan murmured assent—but in his mind echoed his father’s teachings: Triads have no culture—do you not?
He should take a roundabout path, find another way.
Quietly, he slipped a hand out from his own blanket, slowly reaching into Xia Liuyi’s quilt, resting his fingertips against the man’s warm back—and fell asleep at peace.
…
When He Chusan woke the next morning, the bed beside him was already cold. Xia Liuyi had taken an early flight to Thailand, leaving without a word.
As he stood before the mirror, still groggy and about to brush his teeth, he noticed a suspicious white trace at the corner of his lips. He licked it and sighed.
—Brother Liuyi skipped breakfast again, just drank a cup of cold milk before leaving.
At noon, Cui Dongdong drove over to take him to the hospital. He Chusan said he could go by himself, not wanting to trouble her. She waved it off, saying the boss had specifically instructed it—if anything went wrong, her year-end bonus would be docked, so he should have pity on her.
At the hospital, the cast and steel plate were removed. The doctor said his recovery was good, though he would still need crutches for another month or two. Thus, the wheelchair was retired, and He Chusan transformed into “Iron-Crutch San”, hobbling out with Cui Dongdong.
“Going straight back?” she asked. “Want to get some fresh air?”
Having been cooped up for two months, He Chusan readily agreed. “Then I’ll trouble you a bit longer, Sister Dongdong.”
Cui Dongdong drove him to Repulse Bay, where they had afternoon tea at a terrace restaurant. The place was styled in an old English fashion, with vintage ceiling fans slowly turning overhead. Even the waiters moved with measured grace, courteous and refined.
Meanwhile, He Chusan watched as Cui Dongdong tore off her tie, rolled up her sleeves, and devoured the three-tier dessert stand in a whirlwind—leaving him holding an iced coffee, staring blankly in astonishment.
After finishing the last salmon roll, Cui Dongdong called the waiter over for the menu again and said, “What are you staring at? If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
“Sister Dongdong, what’s your secret to maintaining your figure?”
“What do you know!” Cui Dongdong sighed. “Xiao Luo recently said I’ve got a little belly, so she’s been making ‘nutritious meals’ at home. I’ve been stuck eating porridge and vegetables every day—starving me to death!”
He Chusan glanced at her completely flat stomach—even after she had stuffed herself with three plates of desserts—and, after some thought, said,
“Actually… could it be that one day you got a bit too close to some pretty girl outside, or came home too late…?”
Cui Dongdong pondered for a long while. Then her eyes went wide, as if struck by a bolt from the blue, sudden enlightenment dawning—
“Fuck! No wonder I had diarrhea for three days!”
“……”
Inwardly, He Chusan paid silent homage to the brave soul who dared to torment Vice Hall Master Cui, while accompanying her in finishing two more pieces of expensive cake he couldn’t even name.
At last, Cui Dongdong ate her fill, wiped her mouth with a napkin, adjusted her hair with a spoon, straightened her collar—and once more looked like a refined gentleman. Tossing the napkin aside, she lit a cigar and leaned back comfortably, her tone turning serious.
“Alright, speak.”
“Mm?”
“I know you’ve got something to ask.”
He Chusan lowered his head, carefully slicing off a corner of his cake. “Sister Dongdong… is there no possibility for Xiaoqi Hall to go legit?”
Cui Dongdong frowned slightly. “You asked the boss that this morning?”
“Last night.”
“Tsk. No wonder his face was so dark when he left today,” she said, tapping ash off her cigar against her wine glass. “Xiao San, you’re a clean person—you’re not like us. But don’t expect us to be like you. In the Jianghu, one’s body is not one’s own. We’ve fought through mountains of blades and seas of fire to get where we are—how could we turn back?”
She exhaled a stream of smoke. “I know you hate us selling ‘that’, but where there’s demand, there’s a market. Hong Kong is a mess—you can’t blame everything on the triads. Some people want to fall into depravity; we’re just kindly providing the means. Xiaoqi Hall came out of Jiaolong Walled City—without this trade, we’d be nothing in the Jianghu! Not to mention nearby—without this, would Master Qiao cooperate with us? There are hundreds of brothers waiting to be fed, mouths wide open. If you don’t let the boss sell this, what—sell durians instead? He’s riding a tiger he can’t dismount.”
Hearing this string of crooked reasoning, He Chusan felt rather emotional. Vice Hall Master Cui truly deserved her reputation as the boss’s strategist—her ability to justify twisted logic far surpassed that of the boss, who only knew how to slam tables and explode in temper.
Looking out at the sea beyond the layered palm trees, a thought suddenly cut across his mind like a surfboard slicing through calm waters—
Riding a tiger he can’t dismount?
If the tiger’s legs were cut off, its fangs pulled—what would Xia Liuyi ride then?
He Chusan and Vice Hall Master Cui spent a pleasant afternoon tea by the seaside. At the end, she offered to drive him back to the village house, but he insisted on going home to his father.
“I haven’t been back for two months. My dad must miss me,” he said.
His father didn’t just miss him. When he opened the door and saw that his son—who had been sending daily safety messages on his pager—was now standing there on crutches… and upon touching him, realized it was clearly a fracture (and that the boy still dared claim it happened yesterday)—he grabbed a feather duster and began thrashing him mercilessly!
He Chusan, who had always been an exemplary student, was beaten by his father for the first time in his life. Covered in dust and misery, he dared neither dodge nor flee, hunched on his crutches, shrinking against the door as he endured the pain. His father, irritated by his son’s pitiful act, swung the duster straight at his backside—finally eliciting a shriek!
“Dad, I was wrong!” Elite He cried, tears welling—as expected of my real father… hits way harder than Brother Liuyi!
“What were you wrong about?!” His usually cautious and gentle father roared for the first time in his life.
“Dad, why do you sound just like Li—…that person…” He Chusan muttered.
“What?!”
“I was wrong, Dad! I got hit by a car, broke my leg, and stayed in the hospital. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Didn’t want me to worry?! Didn’t want me to worry?!” His father scolded while continuing to beat him. “So you just tough it out alone?! Stayed in the hospital by yourself?! No one to take care of you?! Do I not have time?! No energy?! It’s just a broken leg! Even if you were paralyzed from the waist down, I’d still carry you home myself!”
“Dad, Dad…” He Chusan cried miserably, truly unable to endure it any longer—his leg hurt from standing so long. “I was wrong, I was wrong. Someone was taking care of me. Since someone was already there, I didn’t want to trouble you… and besides, I’m fine now.”
His father’s eyes shifted. He gave him one last light smack on the forehead. “Say it! Who took care of you?”
“Ahem… a… a girlfriend…”
“Bullshit!” His father spat furiously. “Xiao He already broke up with you! She’s been cozying up with Ah Wei from Uncle Ah Hua’s shop for two months! Auntie Ah Hua’s complained to me three times already! You’ve been wearing a green hat so long your head’s about to rot!”
“Ahem… a new… new girlfriend…”
“You fickle bastard!” His father threw away the feather duster and switched to slapping him. “Did I raise you to be so shallow?! To toy with people’s feelings?! Disgraceful! Ruining the family name!”
By dinnertime, He Chusan was still dazed from the beating, eating absentmindedly, barely taking bites.
“A-San,” his father called, “eat more.”
“I had something in the afternoon,” He Chusan said blankly.
“That girlfriend of yours,” his father said while sipping liquor, “when are you bringing her home for me to see? You won’t break up again, right?”
“It’s not even started yet, Dad,” He Chusan repeated his usual line.
“Got a wife and forgot your father! You unfilial brat!”
After another round of nagging, under heavy pressure, He Chusan was forced to “turn over a new leaf”—agreeing to stay home and recover properly, no more running around with his “girlfriend.”
However, after dinner, he received a phone call. The moment he saw the number, he hopped on his crutches like a rabbit into the bathroom. His father, watching, became increasingly convinced his son was up to no good.
Covering the receiver, He Chusan shut the door and whispered, “Brother Liuyi?”
On Xia Liuyi’s end, it was noisy—like some wild party. The background chatter and singing were all in foreign languages, making it hard to hear clearly.
“You’re in Thailand? Have you eaten?” He Chusan raised his voice.
“Hey, A-San! Thin walls at home—you’ll wake your dad!”
“Dad, go out for a walk, please,” He Chusan leaned out and pleaded sincerely.
His father glared, but under his son’s persistent begging, reluctantly slammed the door and left.
“Brother Liuyi?” He Chusan called again, relieved.
Xia Liuyi had been silent, waiting. Now he finally spoke, “He A-San.”
Hearing something off in his tone, He Chusan asked, “Have you been drinking?”
“Did you get your cast off? What did the doctor say?” Xia Liuyi interrupted.
He Chusan reported honestly, but received no reply. “Brother Liuyi?”
The man on the other end murmured sleepily, then suddenly woke. “What?! Who?!”
“It’s me, Brother Liuyi.”
“Damn brat… did you get your cast off? What did the doctor say?”
“……”
After repeating himself for nothing, He Chusan couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re drunk. Don’t stay there—go back to the hotel and sleep.”
“Mind your own business, brat!” Xia Liuyi cursed loudly, then drifted again. “Wait till I get back… I’ll deal with you… stay away from me… don’t come closer…”
He Chusan found it baffling. Just as he was about to speak again, Xia Liuyi suddenly switched to Thai. There was a rustling noise—then a loud crash, followed by static.
…
Half-sober from being rubbed against by a pair of soft breasts, Xia Liuyi stared blankly at the smashed phone on the floor, crushed under a high heel. After a moment, he cursed in Thai, “Xiao Yu! You bastard!”
“Who were you calling? What were you saying?” the ladyboy lazily asked, straddling him, rubbing against him. “Drink three more cups, then you can make calls.”
“Call my ass!” Xia Liuyi snapped. “You broke it!”
“I’ll buy you another,” said Jade Guanyin, pressing a painted nail to his lips. “Your mouth is so annoying—everyone loves me, but you keep scolding me.”
“Everyone’s afraid of you!” Xia Liuyi shoved her off. “Don’t rub me with those fake breasts!”
“They’re real!” Jade Guanyin rolled on the sofa in outrage, throwing a tantrum. “You’re so mean! If you keep this up, I won’t introduce you to godfather!”
“If you don’t, I’ll just leave. If godfather’s plans are delayed, see how he deals with you,” Xia Liuyi said coolly—they shared the same godfather; he wasn’t afraid of her.
Unable to threaten him, frustrated, Jade Guanyin writhed on the sofa like a restless cat. Her subordinates—over a dozen bodyguards—didn’t dare intervene. In the end, Xia Liuyi lost patience, hoisted her over his shoulder, and carried her out amid mutual cursing, tossing her into the car.
The Bentley drove out of the red-light district, winding for nearly an hour before switching vehicles at a rural factory, then driving another half hour before arriving at an underground club.
“Why change locations?” Xia Liuyi asked.
“Interpol is watching godfather,” Jade Guanyin said, exhaling smoke elegantly. “No trouble yet—two undercover agents planted in six months. I skinned them both.”
“One was quite interesting,” she laughed softly. “Tried to seduce me right away—on the bed, his hips moved like a motor. Quite delightful. After I skinned him, I made this from ‘that’ of his.”
She lifted a keychain—on it hung a strip of sewn skin.
Xia Liuyi, long accustomed to her perversity, turned away coldly.
Jade Guanyin seized the chance to tease him, draping a leg over him. “So, when will you try it with me? Yours looks even better than his.”
She slid a cold hand into his pants, watching his reaction.
But Xia Liuyi remained unmoved, expression indifferent.
After some teasing with no response, she gave up. “How boring! Not interested in men, not interested in women, not even both—you’re not impotent, are you?”
Xia Liuyi scoffed. “What do you think?”
She scoffed back. “Whoever can make you hard—I’ll give them a Nobel Prize in Medicine!”
—At that very moment, He Chusan, leaning in the bathroom, suddenly sneezed!
Completely unaware that he was about to be tied to a world-class “award,” he continued stubbornly trying to redial the now unreachable phone.
Futile Devices Scans 
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