He Chu San carried a briefcase in hand, clad in a sharp suit and polished shoes, his bearing refined and elegant as he stepped through the grand doors of the Xiao Qi Hall “headquarters.”
He inclined his head with a courteous smile toward the security guards at the entrance, then strode with calm familiarity toward the elevator lobby. Inside stood two burly subordinates who had come to report regularly to the Lady Boss. Their builds were sturdy, their expressions fierce—the very image of seasoned gangsters.
The moment He Chu San stepped in, both men cast him suspicious glances. His clean-cut features and scholarly demeanor clearly marked him as someone outside their circle.
He Chu San merely curved his lips into a gentle, spring-like smile.
The two subordinates were left puzzled, unable to discern his background. Seeing him press the button for the executive floor, they assumed he must be some relative of the Lady Boss and cautiously withdrew their scrutiny.
The elevator doors opened onto the executive floor. The two men stepped out, still somewhat bewildered, passing through three layers of bodyguards. Each guard nodded to them without obstruction—and likewise did not stop He Chu San.
In truth, none of Cui Dong Dong’s guards recognized him. But seeing him follow confidently behind the two subordinates, composed and unflustered, they assumed he was part of their entourage and let him pass without question.
Thus, He Chu San made his way unimpeded to Cui Dong Dong’s office—situated beside what had once been Xia Liu Yi’s office. She had not seized it outright, but instead taken the adjacent room for herself.
One of the subordinates knocked.
“Boss! It’s A’Qiang!”
“Come in.”
The two men entered, and He Chu San followed naturally behind them.
Cui Dong Dong sat behind her desk reviewing documents. She glanced up casually—then jolted in shock.
“You?! What are you doing here?!”
“Me? I came with Brother Qiang,” the other subordinate hurried to explain.
“I’m talking about the one behind you!” Cui Dong Dong pointed sharply. “Why wasn’t there any notice? Do you two know him?”
The two men turned in alarm toward He Chu San. He Chu San smiled again.
Embarrassment turned quickly to anger. Rolling up their sleeves, they seized him from both sides.
“Who the hell are you, kid?!”
“Sneaking in here—what are you after?!”
“Stop, stop, stop!” Cui Dong Dong barked. “Take your hands off him! Have you lost your minds? Get out—now!”
With a few swift words, she drove the two fools—blind to the identity of their future sister-in-law—out of the room. She then gestured for He Chu San to sit on the sofa and tossed him a cigar.
“I don’t smoke, Sister Dong Dong.”
“Wine, then?”
“No, thank you.”
She snorted. “No smoking, no drinking—what did you come here for? To annoy me?”
He Chu San smiled, placing his briefcase on her desk. From within, he produced a stack of documents.
“Sister Dong Dong, do you remember the project you invested in at the beginning of the year? These are the reports for the past six months.”
Cui Dong Dong flipped through them—and her expression shifted to astonishment.
“Eighty percent returns in just two quarters? That’s impossible! How did you manage that?”
“There’s been a surge of hot capital flowing into this sector this year, so growth has been rapid. It’s your good fortune, Sister Dong Dong. However…”
He paused slightly.
“If you wish to continue working together, I have a condition.”
Cui Dong Dong chuckled, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair.
“I knew you had tricks up your sleeve when you first came to me. Go on, little fox.”
He Chu San lowered his gaze briefly, then looked up again, earnest.
“Sister Dong Dong, I want to become the general manager of your new company.”
“New company?” she frowned. “What new company?”
“I want to turn this shell company you created for investment purposes into a fully independent investment management firm, separate from all other businesses. I will run it entirely. We split profits twenty-eighty—you provide the initial capital and simply wait to collect returns.”
He continued steadily,
“In addition, I would like to serve as an external investment advisor to your headquarters. Any legitimate business under Xiao Qi Hall—I will provide consulting and strategic planning. My team and I have worked with multiple large listed corporations. You can rest assured.”
Cui Dong Dong studied him, cigar between her lips, exhaling smoke as she thought.
She could already see through him. This damn brat from Xia Liu Yi’s household was trying, through roundabout means, to help transform the Xiao Qi Hall. His wishful thinking and presumptuous initiative stirred her instinctive resistance.
Yet the profits he brought were real—numbers that gleamed like gold on paper.
Her brothers risked their lives daily, walking on the edge of blades. Was it not all for sharing fortune and hardship alike? If there was money to be made and she refused it, had her head been caught in a door?
“Does Liu Yi know about this?”
“Why does he need to know everything?” the brat replied confidently. “When it comes to money, aren’t you the expert, Sister Dong Dong?”
Cui Dong Dong, Chief Steward and Deputy Hall Master, found her ego stroked perfectly. Yet inwardly she smiled coldly—did he think he could bind her with profit and act behind Xia Liu Yi’s back?
He underestimated her.
“Sammy boy,” she said at last, “you have conditions. So do I.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“By the rules of the brotherhood, those who are not initiated cannot hold important positions. If you want to be general manager, you must formally join—perform the rites, and become one of us. A gangster.”
He Chu San lowered his eyes in thought. After a moment, he looked up again, unwavering.
“Alright.”
At that very moment, back at home, He Chu San’s father was squinting as he cut paper decorations, humming to himself—when suddenly he sneezed loudly.
He looked up at the dark, overcast sky outside. The window rattled in the rising wind.
A storm was coming. The clouds were torn apart by the wind, drifting toward distant horizons—unaware of where fate would ultimately carry them.
…
The bar was located along Lockhart Road, a quiet little corner shop frequented only by regulars. The former owner had emigrated to Australia, leaving the place to his nephew.
The new owner had kept everything the same—the décor, the bartender, even the slow, melancholic saxophone drifting from the small stage, played by a Black musician, just as it had been years ago.
A light drizzle fell in the evening, but it did nothing to dampen the patrons’ spirits. Men and women sat by the windows, watching the rain, chatting idly in relaxed comfort.
Behind the bar, a photo wall displayed snapshots left by customers over the years—postcards, handwritten notes, lovers’ vows.
Lu Guang Ming leaned lazily against the counter, swirling his drink, lost in thought—completely unaware of someone approaching from behind.
“Sir Lu,” came a voice.
Lu Guang Ming turned, eyes narrowing into a smile.
“Sir Xie. I’ve been waiting an hour—I thought you weren’t coming.”
Xie Jia Hua stood there, coat draped over his arm, shirt buttoned neatly to the collar. His shoulders were damp from the rain—he had come straight from the station after overtime, walking all the way.
“What is it? Say it,” he said coldly, making no move to sit.
Lu Guang Ming pulled out a chair for him and ordered two beers.
“What’s the rush? Xia Liu Yi going to prison—surely I deserve some credit? Won’t you at least buy me a drink to show your gratitude?”
Xie Jia Hua pulled out his wallet, slapped a bill onto the counter.
“Thank you for removing a menace from society, Sir Lu. Take your time drinking.”
He turned to leave.
“Hey!” Lu Guang Ming called out loudly. “You think I dragged you here just for a drink? Back then, I fell for you at first sight here—and you just abandoned me. How are we settling that score?”
The few patrons in the bar turned to look.
Xie Jia Hua strode back, slammed him against the counter, and said in a low voice,
“Cut the nonsense.”
Lu Guang Ming chuckled.
“I just saw your photo here earlier. Those youthful days… you used to come here often, didn’t you?”
Xie Jia Hua pressed him down by the neck, expression cold.
“I’m not here to waste time. You said this concerns the case. Talk—or get lost.”
Lu Guang Ming narrowed his eyes with a smile.
“Oh, I’ll talk. But first, have a drink with me.”
Xie Jia Hua released him and turned to leave again.
“It’s about Tang Jia Qi,” Lu Guang Ming called after him.
Xie Jia Hua halted mid-step. He took a few deep breaths—then suddenly turned and struck!
Lu Guang Ming ducked swiftly, narrowly avoiding the blow. A second punch came, and he raised his arms to block.
Seeing the killing intent in Xie Jia Hua’s eyes, realizing he had truly provoked him, Lu Guang Ming hurried to explain:
“I’m serious—really! It’s about his case from nine years ago. I’ve found a lead.”
Xie Jia Hua’s expression shifted slightly, though distrust still lingered in his eyes. He restrained himself for a moment before finally releasing his grip, his face dark and stormy.
Having narrowly escaped, Lu Guang Ming remained unfazed. He straightened his clothes, righted the fallen stool, and sat back down with a faint smile.
“How violent, Sir Xie. Am I really so untrustworthy in your eyes? Do you think every word I say is a lie?”
He pushed the two untouched beers toward Xie Jia Hua and smiled lightly.
“I wasn’t lying entirely. I really did know Tang Jia Qi. When I was young, at the orphanage, he came as a volunteer. We… had met before.”
He paused, then continued more seriously.
“Nine years ago, Tang Jia Qi’a death was classified within the ICAC as an unsolved case. After I joined, I took a particular interest in it and sought out a senior who had participated in the internal investigation back then. He believed Tang Jia Qi had been secretly investigating a corruption case and had uncovered something significant—so he was silenced. He combed through all the internal ICAC materials Tang Jia Qi had accessed, but found nothing.”
Lu Guang Ming’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Sir Xie… you never gave up on this case either, did you? Your conclusions match that senior’s—but you found nothing as well, correct?”
Xie Jia Hua stared silently at the glass before him.
At last, he picked it up.
“Have you ever considered,” Lu Guang Ming said slowly, “that what Tang Jia Qi was investigating wasn’t an ICAC case at all—but a case from your Major Crimes Unit? That’s why he was in such frequent contact with you back then.”
Xie Jia Hua’s hand paused mid-motion.
He swallowed the mouthful of beer slowly, then set the glass down and looked at him.
“It’s possible Tang Jia Qi was investigating a homicide case—perhaps one you personally handled. Did he ever… probe you indirectly about the details of a particular case?”
“… ”
Xie Jia Hua remained silent, his expression cold as he stared at his drink. But the alcohol had already begun to burn fiercely in his stomach.
…
The rain had stopped.
It was deep into the night. The musician had long since left, replaced by soft music drifting from the speakers. The scattered patrons sat immersed in the dim glow, murmuring softly, holding one another as if the world beyond did not exist.
Xie Jia Hua sat alone at the bar. Several empty bottles and glasses lay before him. Head lowered, one hand pressed to his forehead, he leaned heavily against the counter—lost in thought, or perhaps on the verge of sleep.
The bartender personally brought over another cocktail, nudging his arm.
“Hey… you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Xie Jia Hua replied, lifting his head. His mind still seemed clear.
“Where’s your friend?”
“He stepped out to take a call. Not my friend,” Xie Jia Hua said, though a trace of drunkenness had already crept into his voice.
The bartender studied him for a moment, then brightened.
“You look familiar… Are you Ward? That young officer from Major Crimes?”
Xie Jia Hua frowned slightly, then recognized him as well.
“I am.”
The bartender laughed in delight.
“Ha! It really is you! How many years has it been? Seven? Eight?”
“Nine.”
The bartender seemed to recall something and began rummaging behind the bar.
“We still had your photo with Jacky from back then… huh? Where did it go? I saw it not long ago…”
Xie Jia Hua’s heart pounded. He waved his hand, signaling him to stop searching, and pulled out his wallet to order another strong drink.
From the moment he stepped into this bar, his emotions had begun to stir. Lu Guang Ming’s words had been like a spark cast into a long-sealed barrel of fuel, igniting a raging fire within him.
This was where he had reunited with Tang Jia Qi after years apart.
They had been childhood classmates, growing up in the same neighborhood, once inseparable. But as his father’s career flourished and promotions followed, Xie Jia Hua moved away during secondary school, and they gradually lost contact.
In those days, he had been rebellious and wayward—a spoiled young master at odds with his father. He had no desire to inherit his father’s path in law enforcement, dreaming instead of studying art abroad. Yet under his father’s pressure, he entered the police academy and was eventually assigned to the Major Crimes Unit.
Reuniting with Tang Jia Qi in this bar had been the only light in that restless, frustrating period of his life.
As they grew closer, Tang Jia Qi’s openness, confidence, and unwavering belief in justice slowly influenced him. Xie Jia Hua began to confront his own path, to develop a sense of duty and belonging. He learned earnestly from his seniors, handled cases with diligence, and even his long-frozen relationship with his father began to thaw.
They met often—drinking, talking, playing ball, going out to sea, discussing cases…
This closeness lasted for over a year.
Tang Jia Qi was his confidant, his guiding light.
And perhaps… something more.
Three days before Tang Jia Qi disappeared, here in this very bar, a drunken Tang Jia Qi had suddenly kissed him—then pushed him away, apologized, and fled.
Xie Jia Hua hadn’t followed.
His own thoughts had been in turmoil. He buried himself in work, intending to sort out his feelings.
But before he could reach an answer, news of Tang Jia Qi’s death arrived.
There would never be a reply now.
For nine long years, in countless sleepless nights, he had drowned in regret—regret for not chasing after him, regret for not making a single call, regret for never saying:
“I didn’t hate that kiss.”
“Maybe… we could have tried being together.”
And now—
This sly, scheming, shameless fox of a youth dared to imply that Tang Jia Qi had approached him merely to use him for an investigation?
How could that sincerity have been false?!
Their understanding, their trust, their unspoken harmony—how could any of it be fake?!
They had spoken of countless cases. As long as it did not involve confidential matters or conflict between their departments, they helped each other freely, asked openly—
Never—never—had Tang Jia Qi ever “probed indirectly” as Lu Guang Ming claimed.
To Xie Jia Hua, Tang Jia Qi was noble, pure—untouchable.
Lu Guang Ming’s words had not changed his opinion of him. If anything, they deepened his disgust.
What kind of darkness must a man carry to grow into such cunning and manipulation at so young an age? To wear such a shameless mask?
A man like that—surely he had no one close to him. Surely he knew nothing of genuine feeling.
What right did he have to speculate? To sow discord between him and Tang Jia Qi?
Rage with no outlet. Regret beyond repair. Longing divided by life and death.
They surged within him like a boundless storm.
Drink after drink pulled him deeper into the whirlpool, until he sank, helpless, into its dark abyss.
…
Lu Guang Ming returned after finishing a lengthy call regarding a case.
At the bar, he found several more empty glasses—and Xie Jia Hua slumped forward, eyes closed, unresponsive to the waiter’s attempts to rouse him.
“When did you drink this much?” Lu Guang Ming muttered in surprise, stepping forward and patting his face.
“Sir Xie? Xie—whoa!”
He jerked his head back just in time to avoid a sudden punch, retreating several steps. Instead of anger, he laughed.
“You hate me that much? Even drunk, you want to hit me?”
“Get lost,” Xie Jia Hua muttered, standing with a dark expression. He pulled out money and placed it on the counter.
“He already paid earlier,” the waiter said helplessly, pushing the money back. “Your friend’s very drunk—take him home.”
“That is, if I can get close to him,” Lu Guang Ming replied wryly, dodging several more precise swings.
Suddenly, inspiration struck. He flashed a bright, carefree smile.
“A’Hua? Don’t recognize me? It’s me—Jia Qi.”
Xie Jia Hua frowned, staring at him.
Lu Guang Ming felt a flicker of unease—had he not drunk enough? Was his act about to be exposed?
Before he could react, Xie Jia Hua stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace.
“Alright, alright, A’Hua, be good… long time no see,” Lu Guang Ming chuckled, patting his head, then grinned smugly at the waiter.
“A’Hua, time to go home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Xie Jia Hua murmured, resting his head against his shoulder. “I miss you.”
Lu Guang Ming patted him again.
“I miss you too. Be good—go home and rest.”
“Don’t want to go home.”
Lu Guang Ming couldn’t help laughing at his serious drunkenness.
“If you don’t go home, I still have to, Sir Xie. I’ve got a case early tomorrow.”
While speaking, he slipped a hand to Xie Jia Hua’s waist, feeling around until he pulled off his pager.
“Let’s see who can come pick you up.”
He quickly scanned through the stored numbers, memorizing a few possible informants. Then he skimmed the messages—finding nothing remotely intimate.
“Sir Xie, you don’t even have someone to pick you up—and you still dare drink yourself like this?”
“Jia Qi… I miss you.”
Lu Guang Ming smiled, eyes narrowing—but for a fleeting moment, the same loneliness flickered in his gaze.
He helped Xie Jia Hua out of the bar, hailed a taxi, and settled him inside. Xie Jia Hua leaned against him quietly, neither noisy nor ill—simply resting, as though asleep.
After a while, Lu Guang Ming heard him murmur.
Leaning closer, he listened as Xie Jia Hua whispered,
“Where did you go? I miss you…”
Lu Guang Ming drew him into his arms, gently stroking the back of his head like soothing a child. With his other hand, he pulled out a photograph from his inner pocket.
His fingers traced the bright, open smile in the picture.
“I miss him too,” he murmured softly.
…
Xie Jia Hua woke to a splitting headache.
Blinding sunlight filled the room. He stared at the ceiling blankly for a full minute before realizing he was in a hotel—and fragments of the previous night slowly returned.
His face darkened.
Closing his eyes in discomfort, he finally turned his head.
Lu Guang Ming lay beside him, half his face buried in the pillow, curled under the blanket. Bruises marked his brow and lips, while his exposed shoulder and collarbone bore unmistakable bite marks.
He slept deeply, cheeks faintly flushed—without that ever-present fox-like smile, his face seemed almost boyishly innocent.
Xie Jia Hua pressed his temples and got out of bed, surveying the disarray.
The sheets were stained, clothes strewn across the floor—and several used condoms lay discarded among them.
—He was momentarily stunned that he had even remembered to use protection.
Even in drunken chaos, he had somehow maintained principles.
He slapped himself sharply.
Unable to remain in that room for even another moment, he dressed quickly. But as he reached the door, he paused.
His pager was missing.
He turned back, rummaging through the scattered clothes, finally retrieving it from Lu Guang Ming’s pocket. Clipping it back to his waist, he continued searching—just in case anything else had been taken.
From a hidden inner pocket of Lu Guang Ming’s coat, he found a photograph.
It was taken ten years ago—him and Tang Jia Qi, arms slung over each other’s shoulders at a harbor. On the back was the date and the words: “Long live friendship.”
They had left it on the photo wall of the bar.
Last night, Lu Guang Ming had said he saw it.
The bartender had said it was gone.
Frowning, Xie Jia Hua glanced once at the still-sleeping Lu Guang Ming, then clenched the photo in his hand—
And left without looking back.
Futile Devices Scans 
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