It was not that Xia Liuyi did not trust He Chusan. He knew that He Chusan’s feelings for him were genuine, that he would never deliberately harm him. Yet within that law-abiding mind of He Chusan’s, the distinctions of right and wrong, justice and morality, what constituted “harm” and what constituted “saving”—these were not measured by the codes of the underworld. The more Xia Liuyi understood him, the more he realized just what He Chusan might be willing to do for his sake.
He only wished that He Chusan would understand—betrayal and persecution of his brothers was his greatest taboo, his final bottom line. No matter how much he cherished He Chusan, he could not tolerate such a thing. He hoped He Chusan would be clever enough not to force him into truly turning against him, not to drive their relationship into a dead end.
Installing this bugging device was, rather than an act of suspicion toward He Chusan, an attempt to persuade himself—to find peace of mind. He loathed this version of himself, one who harbored doubts toward the person lying beside his pillow. Only by clearing He Chusan of suspicion could he cleanse his own unease.
He Chusan took a car straight to the company. At the building’s entrance, he exchanged some work materials with a colleague, then returned to his office and clattered away at documents for a time. Afterward, he went out to meet a client, eloquently presenting a project with promising prospects. Near noon, he got off at a market amidst a chorus of shouts and bustle, purchasing several crabs along with some vegetables.
Xia Liuyi’s phone rang. Upon answering, He Chusan’s voice came through, light with a smile, “Up yet? I bought crabs and choy sum. What else do you want to eat? Pork chops?”
“Mm… pork chops, then,” Xia Liuyi replied distractedly.
After hanging up, He Chusan began bargaining with a pork vendor. Xia Liuyi set down his phone and picked up the listening receiver again, but instead of wearing it, he turned it idly in his hands, lost in thought.
For the entire morning, He Chusan displayed nothing suspicious. Yet the unease in Xia Liuyi’s heart would not settle. He kept thinking of that silent call from the previous night—the one with the number ending in 991. It seemed strangely familiar.
He called Cui Dongdong and asked her to investigate Xie Jiahua’s details again. When her reply came in, at that exact moment, the phone within the receiver also began to ring.
He pressed the speaker button.
Cui Dongdong’s voice and He Chusan’s answer from the receiver sounded simultaneously.
“Boss, Xie Jiahua’s number ends in 991.”
“Hello? Sir Xie.”
Xia Liuyi swept the receiver violently to the ground! He closed his eyes, standing stiffly for a long time, feeling a chilling cold spread through his veins.
…
He Chusan returned carrying a cloth bag full of ingredients, bustling about the kitchen with clattering sounds. After half a day without seeing Xia Liuyi, he called upstairs, apron tied around him, “Brother Liuyi?”
Only after a long while did Xia Liuyi emerge from the bedroom, cigarette between his lips, standing at the top of the stairs and looking down at him expressionlessly.
“Come down and move around a bit. You didn’t eat breakfast again, did you?”
Xia Liuyi descended slowly, leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms folded, silently watching He Chusan’s back as he chopped vegetables, smoking in silence.
“What’s wrong?” He Chusan turned, noticing his distracted demeanor. Wiping his hands on his apron, he leaned in to steal a kiss.
Xia Liuyi tilted his head slightly, letting him kiss only his cheek. With one hand against his chest, he pushed him away. “Cook first.”
“Hungry?” He Chusan smiled, then keenly sensed his mood. “Something bothering you? Worried about Scarhead?”
“Mmm.” Xia Liuyi brushed him aside and walked to the sofa, sitting down to watch television.
The meal was tasteless. He Chusan chatted lightly, trying to ease the air, but Xia Liuyi merely lowered his head, eating in cold silence.
“What happened?” He Chusan asked for the third time, propping his cheek in his hand, still calm and concerned.
Suddenly, Xia Liuyi felt a surge of nausea.
This “Actor He”—his expression was more genuine than pearls, so pure it seemed as though nothing had happened. Yet just an hour ago, he had spoken on the phone with Xia Liuyi’s sworn enemy and arranged to meet him that very afternoon.
From the moment He Chusan uttered the name “Sir Xie,” Xia Liuyi’s mind had been in chaos. And yet, deep down, he still refused to believe. Perhaps there was another reason for the meeting. Perhaps He Chusan was being coerced. He had waited for him to confess at noon—but judging by his current demeanor, he had no intention of mentioning it at all.
It felt as though the creature he had kept at his bedside was not a little fox—but a weasel, tearing into his heart and lungs, drinking his blood, baring a grin of bloodstained teeth.
“Nothing. Just in a bad mood,” Xia Liuyi said, putting down his chopsticks and lighting a cigarette. “Come with me to the seaside this afternoon. Clear my head.”
He Chusan paused briefly, then smiled as if nothing were amiss. “I’ve got work at the company this afternoon. I’ll go with you tonight, alright?”
Xia Liuyi fixed him with a dark gaze. He Chusan remained composed, smiling as he leaned in to take the cigarette from his hand and kissed his cheek. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. Dinner—Western food?”
Xia Liuyi curled his lips faintly. “Sure.”
After the meal, He Chusan tidied up quickly and left in a hurry. Xia Liuyi stood by the door, watching his retreating figure—his expression cold, his presence desolate, like a wronged spouse watching her husband leave for an affair. Frowning, he turned and went upstairs, putting on the receiver headset.
He Chusan and Xie Jiahua had arranged to meet at Tam Dao Coffee, not far from the police station—a public place with no attempt at concealment. Xie Jiahua, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, sat with his usual unchanging, expressionless face, silently drinking water.
He Chusan pulled out a chair and sat down, ordering a plain coffee. “Sir Xie.”
“You’ve gotten back together with Xia Liuyi,” Xie Jiahua said.
“Sir Xie, a servant of the people, taking such interest in a citizen’s private affairs—how thoughtful,” He Chusan replied with a smile.
Xie Jiahua did not indulge in pleasantries. “Yesterday morning, the police arrested Xu Jinhe, alias ‘Big Scarhead’, one of Xia Liuyi’s Red Poles. You must know him. He has confessed to many of Xia Liuyi’s crimes, but his testimony alone is insufficient. I need other insiders to provide information and assist the police.”
“I’m sorry, Sir Xie,” He Chusan said calmly. “I know nothing. I can’t help you.”
Xie Jiahua opened a folder and slid a stack of blurry photographs toward him. “At 5:15 a.m. yesterday, the East Kowloon Police Station received an anonymous report claiming a ‘group fight’ in Hung Hom. Upon arrival, officers discovered illegal gambling and large quantities of drugs. The call was made from a public phone fifteen minutes from your office. Surveillance shows you left your office at five and didn’t return until seven. You are close to Xia Liuyi. You had both the knowledge and the opportunity. You made that call.”
He Chusan nodded politely to the waiter setting down his coffee, took a sip, and said evenly, “And the motive?”
“You grew up in Jiaolong Walled City. Your parents died in gang conflicts. You were adopted by He Bingxian, a law-abiding man who raised you with propriety and virtue. You excelled academically, entered Longgang Polytechnic University, and received top scholarships every year. You are upright and righteous. Your initial contact with Xia Liuyi was under coercion. In my view, you made that call because you could no longer tolerate his crimes—or because you approached him in order to dismantle his drug network.”
He Chusan gave a bitter laugh, rubbing his temples. “Sir Xie, I’m not as noble as you think. And I just learned my father isn’t my biological father—that’s quite a revelation.”
He examined the photos one by one. “These only show I left the office at five. I worked overnight and had a client meeting the next morning—I went home to Kowloon Tong to wash and change. Check the surveillance near the Star Ferry. I crossed the harbor around that time—there’s no way I could have been in Causeway Bay simultaneously. I didn’t make that call.”
“And,” he added with a sigh, “your so-called ‘Jianghu code’—Big Scarhead won’t talk easily. When you said he ‘confessed,’ you were just trying to bait me.”
Xie Jiahua’s expression darkened. After a moment, he said, “Can you truly tolerate Xia Liuyi’s crimes? Scarhead’s arrest has opened a door. With just a little cooperation from you, we could destroy the entire syndicate. Are you really unwilling to help?”
He Chusan sighed. “Sir Xie, if you had more from Scarhead, you wouldn’t need me. As for me—I do disagree with him on right and wrong. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left me on the roadside last time. But I told you—I’m selfish. I know what he cannot tolerate. I don’t want him to hate me.”
Setting down his coffee, he smiled faintly. “I respect you, Sir Xie. And I wish for Hong Kong to be a just and peaceful society. Call me hypocritical, selfish, or cowardly—I can only retreat like this. I’m sorry. And please, don’t contact me again. I’m afraid Brother Liuyi might misunderstand.”
Static crackled through the receiver. The scrape of a chair—he had stood and left.
Xia Liuyi removed the headset, his expression complicated. He stared blankly at the wall for a long time, then lowered his head and lit a cigarette.
After a few silent drags—
He suddenly slapped himself hard across the face!
…
As six o’clock approached, He Chusan drove a white business van to the village house to pick up Xia Liuyi for dinner. A-Nan, standing guard at the entrance, greeted him, “Mr. He, new car?”
“My manager’s,” He Chusan replied with a smile. “He’s on a business trip to Europe these days—lent it to me.” On the way over, he had even stopped by a barbershop to get a fashionable parted hairstyle, looking especially dashing. On the back seat of the car, a large gauzy cloth lay suspiciously draped over something.
Xia Liuyi arrived late, hurrying as he tied his necktie. When he looked up and saw He Chusan’s “new car,” he paused in surprise.
“Elite He, bought a car?” he asked skeptically.
“Borrowed my manager’s,” He Chusan smiled. “Get in—we’ve got a reservation at a terrace restaurant. We’ll be late.”
Boss Xia muttered under his breath as he climbed in, tugging uncomfortably at his tie. “Damn it, it’s not like I’ve never eaten Western food. Why make it so formal?”
He Chusan simply looked at him and smiled. Then his brows suddenly furrowed as he reached out and touched Xia Liuyi’s left cheek. “What’s this red mark? Who hit you?”
Xia Liuyi coughed awkwardly, brushing his hand away. “Slept on it. Drive.”
He Chusan still tried to cup his face and examine it more closely. At the gate, A-Nan and A-Sen, seeing this open display of affection, coughed loudly in warning, afraid the police watching from across the street might notice. Boss Xia flushed with embarrassment and anger, smacking He Chusan on the forehead with a heavy palm. “Are you driving or not? If not, I will!”
As He Chusan drove, he glanced around carefully. Seeing the surveillance vehicle trailing them fall behind—far enough that the interior could no longer be seen—he had Xia Liuyi take the wheel briefly. Then he turned, lifted the gauzy cloth from the back seat, and a rich floral fragrance instantly filled the car.
“Fuck!” Xia Liuyi’s hand jerked, nearly losing control of the wheel. “What the hell are you doing, surnamed He?”
He Chusan shuffled back and stuffed a large bouquet of red roses into his arms. “For you.”
It was the first time in his life Boss Xia had ever been given flowers. Holding them like a bundle of explosives, his face flushed hot. “What the hell is this? Are you sick in the head?”
“What’s wrong with it?” He Chusan looked aggrieved. “Roses represent my heart.”
“Disgusting. Shut up,” Xia Liuyi snapped irritably—though from the corner of his eye, He Chusan saw his face redden like an apple.
“Pfft—”
“……”
“Ow, ow, alright! I was wrong, I won’t laugh! Stop kicking me, we’re gonna crash—!”
They sat facing the sea at the terrace restaurant. Xia Liuyi had left the embarrassing roses—and his blushing face—in the car. He cut his steak absentmindedly, glancing up at He Chusan—who sat with his chin in his hands, smiling as he stared at him without moving.
At last, Xia Liuyi slammed down his knife and fork, leaned back, and crossed his arms. “Alright. What are you up to today? Acting all sneaky.”
“Brother Liuyi, don’t you remember? Today is April 16,” He Chusan said with a grin.
Xia Liuyi thought it over and still couldn’t recall anything special. “So?”
He Chusan raised three fingers. “Three years ago today—you had someone kidnap me to write scripts.”
“……” Xia Liuyi was silent for a long moment, then said flatly, “That?”
“Anniversary of our first meeting. Important occasion,” He Chusan declared solemnly.
“What are you, a schoolgirl? What’s there to celebrate?!”
“Hehe.” He Chusan beamed to himself. “It’s meaningful, Brother Liuyi. When you first saw me crawl out of that sack, what did you think?”
Xia Liuyi gave a dismissive snort. “Snot-nosed brat.”
He Chusan propped his chin and gazed at him dreamily. “I thought—is this really the underworld? How can someone be this handsome?”
“Hmph.”
“Later, you had me write scripts, always sitting on my desk eating beef offal. I’d watch and think—this backside is so small, so round… really makes me want to—”
“He. Chu. San.” Xia Liuyi gripped his fork tightly. “Don’t think I won’t beat you just because we’re in public.”
He Chusan wisely changed the subject with a laugh. “I guess I’ve always liked men, and I fell for you at first sight. That’s why I had such a good impression of you—though I quickly realized you were a tyrant, ahem… But later, so many things happened. You saved me, protected me, took care of me.”
—Trusted me, tolerated me, cherished me, spoiled me, told me your secrets, cried before me, allowed me to stay when you were hurting, slept in my arms when drunk.
“You took me to movies, to Western restaurants, to play billiards, to the seaside for barbecues… you kissed me in the hospital…”
Xia Liuyi coughed awkwardly, stuffing a large piece of steak into his mouth to cover it up.
“Be with me, Brother Liuyi,” He Chusan said. With great care, he pushed a delicately wrapped small box across the table. “I love you.”
Xia Liuyi froze, fork still in hand, bits of steak at the corner of his mouth—caught completely off guard. After a long moment, he tried to speak, only to choke on the meat.
“Cough—damn it, what kind of cheesy crap is this…” he swallowed awkwardly, face burning, stammering slightly. “Aren’t you already living at my place?”
He set down his fork and opened the box—
Then his face turned green.
Inside was nothing but a cheap jade Buddha.
“……”
He turned the box around toward He Chusan. “What’s this?”
“A blessed Buddha I got for you at Lantau Island,” He Chusan said innocently. “I wanted to buy a ring, but Dad said the shop needs expansion funds, so I gave him the money first.”
“……”
—What kind of confession is this?! All that mushy nonsense, and you give me this worthless green lump?!
The perpetually broke Elite He, who once gave a paper cake as a birthday gift, said shyly, “It’s the thought that counts. Take this for now—I’ll make it up to you next year.”
—Make it up your ass!
Boss Xia stuffed the jade Buddha into his pocket with a dark expression, wanting to smash him with a knife—but seeing that earnest, innocent face, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He Chusan, having narrowly escaped death, brightened. “So we’re officially together now?”
“What more do you want? A honeymoon in Europe?”
“Well… depends if I can get leave at the end of the year. If I can, we’ll go.” He paused. “I rented a place in Tsim Sha Tsui, close to your ‘company’ and the Star Ferry. Convenient for both of us. Move in with me?”
Xia Liuyi stared at him darkly. He Chusan smiled expectantly, showing those honest white teeth.
“Take me to see it,” Xia Liuyi said.
…
The apartment in Tsim Sha Tsui was modest—a two-bedroom unit with a living room and study, and a rooftop terrace for night views and barbecues. In reality, it was barely larger than Xia Liuyi’s leaky flat in Sai Wan, cramped and shabby, the rooftop cluttered with rusted pipes.
“Been busy working overtime—haven’t cleaned the terrace yet,” He Chusan said. “Come inside.”
Inside, however, it was neat and warm. Freshly painted walls, red paper-cut decorations from Mr. He’s, soft beige furnishings, dim warm lighting. Everything—slippers, cushions, utensils, toothbrushes—came in pairs.
“You brat,” Xia Liuyi muttered as he inspected the place. “You planned this long ago? When did you rent it?”
“Last month. Convenient for both our workplaces.”
“Hmph. Too small. Don’t expect me to move in.”
“Come see the bedroom?”
Grumbling, Xia Liuyi still went—wearing matching slippers.
He pushed open the half-closed door, turned on the lamp—
And froze.
On the wall hung a large poster of a young girl smiling brightly at the camera, holding a bouquet of baby’s breath. She wore a white dress, her long black hair braided elegantly, standing in a field of flowers.
It was a poster from ten years ago—Xia Xiaoman’s only album.
The villa fire after Qinglong and Xiaoman’s deaths had destroyed everything. Even Xia Liuyi had failed to keep a copy.
He stood there, staring at that untainted smile, his hand trembling on the switch.
“A colleague of mine collects records. He happened to have this. He gave me the album too… want to listen?” He Chusan whispered behind him.
Xia Liuyi suddenly snapped off the light—
And in the darkness, shoved He Chusan hard onto the bed!
Futile Devices Scans 
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