Futile Devices Scans

A son knows his father best. Early the next morning, Mr. He, recalling his son’s sneaky behavior the night before, came to feel his way to He Chusan’s door. He pushed twice, but it would not budge. He had been about to give up—when he heard it: overlapping snores from inside. Clearly two people!

What the hell?!

Mr. He began knocking and shouting, though he did not say he was coming in to look for someone—only that he needed to fetch some goods. Inside came a flurry of rustling sounds. After a long while, He Chusan finally opened the door, bleary-eyed, muttering complaints, “Dad, what is it? Didn’t you take the goods out yesterday already?”

“I forgot the soda. Can’t I?” Mr. He replied casually, brushing past him into the room. Suspicion etched on his face, he glanced around, even pulling the door behind him open to check.

“Dad, what are you looking for?” He Chusan yawned.

“Soda.”

“It’s right by your feet.”

“Oh.” Mr. He responded indifferently. Finding nothing, he swept his gaze over the room once more. Boxes of sundries were stacked everywhere, leaving only a narrow path to the bed and the window. There truly didn’t seem to be anywhere a person could hide.

Yet those strange double snores just now—and He Chusan’s furtive behavior—were undeniably odd.

Suddenly, realization struck him. Pushing aside the overly innocent-looking He Chusan—who seemed suspicious no matter how one looked at him—he bent down to check beneath the bed!

“Ah…” He Chusan’s mouth fell open.

Mr. He lifted the bedspread—only to find it stuffed full of boxes.

“Ah…-choo,” He Chusan smoothly turned it into a yawn, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go back to sleep.”

Doubting his own judgment, Mr. He left in irritation, beginning his day’s work in a complicated mood. Only after carefully locking the door did He Chusan hop on one leg to the window, calling softly, “Brother Liuyi, you can come out now.”

Moments later, Xia Liuyi crawled in through the window, moving sluggishly. He spat out the necktie clenched in his mouth, sat on the bed with a greenish expression, and said nothing—his heart so aggrieved it nearly brought tears to a grown man’s eyes.

A dignified Dragon Head boss, reduced at dawn to wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, clinging outside a tenement window like some adulterous scoundrel, freezing in the wind…

Just now, he had nearly lost control and leapt in, ready to explode at Mr. He—So what if I’ve taken your son as my wife?! What are you gonna do—hack me? Bite me?!

—But the moment he imagined that dentist’s drill, whirring madly inside his mouth, the shrill buzzing echoing in his ears, his entire spine went weak from gum to tailbone…

Dentists—the common enemy of all mankind. One day, Xia Liuyi swore bitterly, he would drag every dentist in Hong Kong out to fill the sea!

“Brother Liuyi, it’s still early—sleep a bit more,” He Chusan said, shivering as he burrowed under the blanket beside him.

“Get lost.” Xia Liuyi was in a foul mood.

He Chusan reached out, tugging at the waistband of his underwear. With a snarl, Xia Liuyi pounced on him. “You little bastard, didn’t you hear me tell you to get lost?!”

Pinned beneath him, He Chusan was enveloped in his shadow, letting out a low laugh as he wrapped his arms around Xia Liuyi’s neck.

Xia Liuyi lifted the blanket and dove in. Within the cramped bedding, the two tumbled and rolled, biting and nipping at each other, scratching with their hands—like children not yet grown into their teeth, laughing as they roughhoused.

After a while, Xia Liuyi finally pinned He Chusan beneath him again. Just as he smiled and lowered his head to kiss his nose, his movements suddenly froze.

Something half-hard pressed against his thigh…

The smile on He Chusan’s face froze as well. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. Xia Liuyi immediately rolled away, trying to get out from under the covers—only to be pulled back by He Chusan, who wrapped an arm tightly around his waist.

Xia Liuyi struggled fiercely, but He Chusan clung to him stubbornly, prying off one hand only to latch on with the other, sticky as an octopus. Driven by heated desire, He Chusan chased his lips in urgent kisses, his hands sliding lower along Xia Liuyi’s waist and back, slipping between his thighs—

In a moment of urgency, Xia Liuyi slammed his forehead into He Chusan’s! With a muffled groan, He Chusan finally let go.

Xia Liuyi sprang off the bed in a single bound, retreating several steps, breathing hard as he glared at him.

Rubbing his forehead in pain, He Chusan asked in confusion, “Brother Liuyi?”

Xia Liuyi wiped his mouth, unable to say a word, his face ashen. Seeing He Chusan struggle to get out of bed, he immediately stepped back again.

Sensing something wrong, He Chusan asked, “What’s the matter?”

“……”

“You don’t like this?”

“……”

“Brother Liuyi?”

“I’m going back.”

At noon, Mr. He returned home to check on his ailing son—only to find him leaning by the living room window on his crutches, staring blankly down at the alley below, looking utterly melancholic. No matter how many times he called, it was as though the boy did not hear him.

Amitabha… Lord Jesus Christ… Mr. He felt his son must have been possessed! Another day, he would have to visit Wong Tai Sin Temple, draw a fortune stick, and perhaps obtain a talisman to summon back his soul!

Holding his rice bowl, He Chusan ate without tasting, chewing on a piece of old ginger as if it were chicken, before saying blankly, “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“What is it? Ask whatever you like!” Mr. He felt heartache for his son—so much so he wanted to smack him awake with his chopsticks.

“Mom’s been gone so many years… how have you managed alone?”

“What do you mean how? I lived with you. The dead are gone—do the living stop living?” Mr. He scoffed, taking a sip of liquor.

“I mean… how do you get through the nights?”

“Pfft—!” He sprayed his drink across the table.

……

He Chusan’s blunt inquiry into his elder’s long and mysterious decades of bachelor life earned him a furious beating with chopsticks. With a head full of bumps like a Buddha, he grew even more melancholic.

Leaning on his crutches, he went out alone, intending to wander and clear his mind.

He walked aimlessly, and before he knew it, he had drifted into the territory of Jiaolong Walled City.

Since moving out with his father last year, he had never returned. Now, demolition work was nearing its end. By the end of last month, the first phase deadline for relocation had passed, and fewer than a third of the residents remained.

His crutch struck the greasy, filthy ground with slow, heavy taps as he entered the sunless labyrinth of urban wilderness. The stench of rotting rats by the roadside was as familiar as ever. He saw crooked shop signs with faded lettering, dim bulbs swaying precariously beneath beams. Many doors stood open, their interiors empty—nothing left but putrid garbage and broken furniture too worthless to take.

Every alley lay in deathly silence, broken only by the lonely echo of his footsteps.

This patch of blackened earth that had once swallowed his childhood had, at the same time, nurtured the flower of hope within his heart. And before long, all that was filthy, corrupt, sordid, and decayed—everything that embodied an era steeped in hidden vice—would collapse beneath the thunderous roar of bulldozers, reduced to dust in the passage of time.

From the narrow alley where Xia Liuyi had once had him bundled away in a sack, he walked past the long-abandoned Xiaoqi Film Company, then past the Longjin Free School where he had done his morning exercises in years gone by, past Ah Hua’s Ice Room, and finally arrived before his family’s clinic.

With a light push, he opened the half-closed door and stepped inside, dust swirling about him as he moved forward step by step, climbing the stairs in the dark.

In his tiny room—less than five square meters—only a broken stool split in two remained, along with the iron-framed bed he had slept on for twenty years. It was heavily rusted; when his crutch tapped it lightly, flakes of rust fell in soft puffs.

Thinking back to the time Xia Liuyi had been pinned down on that very bed by him and his father, teeth forcibly extracted, he could not help but smile.

In merely two short years, who could have imagined that he and that rough, arrogant triad man would have come to this point?

With a faint smile lingering at his lips, he cast one last glance around, then closed the door behind him and left the He family clinic. Instead of retracing his steps, he continued onward, turning into Kneecap Alley. This was where Xia Liuyi had said he lived as a child—he wanted to see it for himself.

The alley was short, visible end to end at a glance. In those days, it had been home mostly to addicts and gamblers, its order in chaos—so he had rarely come here before. As he walked, he looked around, trying to guess by instinct which room Xia Liuyi might once have lived in.

Distracted, he failed to notice a glass bottle underfoot. His crutch struck it, and he nearly stumbled, catching himself against the wall, his hand smeared with grime. The bottle rolled away with a hollow clatter, striking the half-closed door of a house opposite.

“Cough… cough… Who’s there?!” a hoarse voice called from within.

Startled, He Chusan took a step back. A gaunt, hunched old man emerged, a long-stemmed pipe clenched between his teeth.

“I used to live nearby. Just passing through, came to take a look,” He Chusan said.

The old man eyed him suspiciously, about to go back inside when He Chusan called out, “Sir, may I ask—over a decade ago, was there a family surnamed Xia living here? Two children—one called Xia Xiaoman, the other Xia Liu… Xia Hao?”

“Who remembers things from that long ago?” the old man replied impatiently, taking a drag from his pipe. Then something stirred in his memory. “You mean Snakeboy Xia? Lived upstairs across from here. Yeah, two kids. Both disappeared later. That bastard—worse than an animal! Even abused his own children!”

He Chusan’s heart clenched. “Abused… how?”

“In the dead of night—crying, screaming, begging. What do you think?” the old man said, frowning as he recalled. “I remember once, that boy ran out covered in blood, his pants torn to shreds—running all the way, bleeding all the way. Snakeboy Xia came chasing after him, head split open, waving a broken beer bottle and screaming like a madman. He grabbed the boy by the legs and dragged him back—headfirst! I tried to stop him, and that bastard stabbed me with the bottle!”

He lifted his shirt, revealing old scars along his waist. Coughing, he sighed repeatedly. “Who knows what happened to those two kids after—whether he sold them or killed and buried them… Maybe death was better. Living would’ve been nothing but suffering… cough…”

After a bout of coughing, he took another drag and looked up, only to see the young man standing there pale as death, his crutch trembling in his grasp. Suspicion flickered across his face. “What are you to that family? Snakeboy Xia’s been dead for years. Why are you looking for him?”

“How did he die?” He Chusan asked, his voice hoarse, his teeth chattering faintly.

“They say he offended the triads—cut down in the street. Happened just days after his kids disappeared… cough… karma… karma… died well… cough, cough… People like us—who among us doesn’t deserve death… cough…”

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became, coughing uncontrollably, clutching his chest. By the time he recovered enough to look up again, the young man had already vanished.

When He Chusan returned home at dusk, the restlessness and dazed despair from noon had vanished. He ate in silence, then retreated to his room and made several phone calls.

Pressing his ear to the door, Mr. He eavesdropped—only to find his son was looking for a new job.

“A-San, your injury hasn’t healed. Stay home and rest a few more days,” his father advised before bed.

“It’s fine, Dad,” He Chusan replied. “I’m almost recovered. Staying home is suffocating—I’d rather go back to work.”

He got in touch with a former superior who had changed jobs and followed him into another company in the same industry, beginning work anew—on crutches.

From that morning onward, Xia Liuyi did not contact him again.

He Chusan did not rush, nor did he grow anxious. After waiting patiently for over a week, he finally carried a bag of ingredients and went to see him.

It was the weekend. Xia Liuyi was out on business and not home. The security guard opened the door for He Chusan, who moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, preparing this and that.

By evening, Xia Liuyi returned, carrying the chill of the outside air with him—and stopped short at the sight of a table filled with freshly baked pastries.

“You’re back?” He Chusan leaned out from the kitchen. “The soup’s almost ready.”

Xia Liuyi sat down on the sofa, restless, silently finishing a cigarette before reaching out—unable to resist—for a piece of chestnut cake.

“The plants I left outside have all withered,” He Chusan said, walking out with a bowl of chicken soup, smiling calmly. “Didn’t you water them for me?”

Xia Liuyi paused mid-bite, swallowed, and answered just as calmly, “I did. They died.”

The smile on He Chusan’s lips deepened. Setting the soup down, he sat beside him. “Maybe you overwatered them?”

Xia Liuyi did not avoid the closeness. After a moment of silence, he handed over the half-eaten chestnut cake. “This one’s good. Try it.”

He Chusan leaned down, took a bite, accepting this awkward, unspoken gesture of goodwill. “Very sweet.”

“Mm.”

“You like this flavor? I’ll make it this sweet next time?”

“Mm.”

“Have you had dinner? I left some food for you in the pot.”

“I ate,” Xia Liuyi said—then after a pause added, “But not enough.”

So He Chusan accompanied him through a second dinner. They chatted idly about trivial things, both tacitly avoiding mention of their time apart.

When Xia Liuyi heard that He Chusan had found a new job, his reaction mirrored Mr. He’s: “Your injury hasn’t healed—stay home and rest! Do you lack money or something?”

“It’s fine. Moving around helps me recover faster,” He Chusan said. “Are you free tomorrow? Want to go watch a movie?”

Xia Liuyi thought for a moment. “At night. I’ll send someone to pick you up from the company.”

“Alright.”

They lingered over the meal, reluctant to part. But as night deepened, He Chusan could only take his leave. Xia Liuyi walked him to the door, frowning again and again before finally asking, “When are you coming back to stay?”

At this, He Chusan grew a little melancholic. “Dad won’t allow it. He said if I dare move out before I’m healed, he’ll break my legs.”

“Isn’t one already broken?” Xia Liuyi scoffed.

“There’s still the other one.”

Xia Liuyi watched as he slowly made his way down the steps, limping. Under the moonlight, He Chusan’s retreating figure looked thin and desolate, staggering with each step—pulling at Xia Liuyi’s heart with every falter.

—By now, it had been ten days since they last met. Adding the time spent in Thailand, it was nearly a month.

“Hey, A-San,” Xia Liuyi called out.

He Chusan, already on the stone path, stopped and turned back in confusion.

“That matter…” Xia Liuyi said softly. His expression was obscured in the shadows beneath the eaves. After a long pause, he continued, “It’s not impossible. Just give me some time.”

He Chusan froze. Then realization dawned, his eyes widening. He could hear the tension, the hesitation—and the utmost concession—in those words. That very concession made his heart ache as though it might split apart.

“No, Brother Liuyi, it’s fine,” he said hurriedly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to force yourself like this. I don’t mind…”

“Enough—shut up!” Xia Liuyi snapped, flustered and embarrassed, his face flushing as he cursed, “You might not mind, but I damn well do! Now get the hell out of here!”

“……”

“What are you standing there for? Get lost already!”

“Remember to brush your teeth before bed.”

“Get lost, get lost, get lost!”

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