He Chu San’s lukewarm “cold war” had dragged on for a full two weeks. Every day he left early and returned late; his communication with Xia Liu Yi was limited to one or two phone calls, and then, deep in the night when the Boss was “sound asleep,” a bit of furtive touching and groping.
In truth, Xia Liu Yi had only guessed half of it. He Chu San was not entirely putting on airs to neglect him—he was genuinely busy. A domineering CEO who could dally in love from dawn till dusk and still rake in fortunes with ease existed only in eight-o’clock soap operas. He Chu San had risen from nothing: no vast family fortune, no powerful patron. He could only bury himself in work while stealing moments to pursue his Boss. It was exhausting and hectic—bitter, yet sweet.
Love.
Of course, he also took advantage of his busyness to deliberately leave Xia Liu Yi hanging now and then, making his stance clear. He had no illusions that Xia Liu Yi would truly yield, or obediently confess all his secrets. Xia Liu Yi was the sort who bore everything on his own shoulders like a stubborn mule—worse, a mule that led the entire sect. What could he do with such a beast? He would wear him down slowly; sooner or later, the mule would show its hoof.
Xia Liu Yi, for his part, had no idea what schemes were turning in He Chu San’s mind—only that there were schemes, though not their specifics—and he had no time to dwell on it anyway. Fresh out of both hospital and prison, Boss Xia was just as busy. The “washing clean” he had promised He Chu San was far from a simple matter; it involved tangled interests, asset consolidation, personnel reshuffling—forces that would meet fierce resistance both within and beyond the brotherhood.
Moreover, he needed Master Qiao to introduce him to the Old Shopkeeper. To win them over, he had to appear to turn from black to white on the surface, while certain unsavory dealings continued in the shadows. He had to conceal matters from the police and from the sister-in-law alike. The Boss, too, was weary and bitter at heart.
…
Hong Kong in November carried a chill autumn wind. That day, rain had fallen from dawn till dusk, leaving everything damp and clinging. Xia Liu Yi, only just recovered from grave injuries, felt an ache seep through every bone. He sprawled at home, issuing orders over the phone to his subordinates, then had his bodyguards fetch fish balls, beef offal, and beer. Wrapped in a blanket, he ate and drank while watching videotapes the entire afternoon.
The alcohol worsened his joint pain. That night, Boss Xia suffered the consequences of his own indulgence, aching so badly he could not sleep past midnight. Yet his pride was ironclad—he would not lower himself to call the bodyguards next door for a massage. He could only toss and turn, gritting his teeth through the pain.
He Chu San returned home past midnight, quietly shedding his rain-soaked clothes before taking a steaming hot bath. Slipping into the bedroom as usual, intending to steal a hug, he instead found Xia Liu Yi sitting cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, a cigarette clenched in his mouth, hair in disarray, glaring at him with a crumpled face—like a rice dumpling with a cigarette stuck in it.
He Chu San couldn’t help but laugh. Boss Xia immediately glared even harder.
He Chu San turned on the bedroom light. Warm brightness filled the room as he gave a wry smile. “Brother Liu Yi, why are you smoking in bed… what’s wrong?”
Seeing the cold sweat beading on Xia Liu Yi’s forehead and his abnormal pallor, he strode forward, first pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, wiping away the sweat, then cupping his cold face. “What’s wrong with you?”
Held in those warm hands, Xia Liu Yi had a strong urge to nuzzle into his palms—but he forced it down, awkwardly shrugging him off. He plucked the cigarette from his lips, crushed it out, and flicked it to the floor. “Nothing. Rain. Don’t feel well.”
He Chu San slipped a hand beneath the blanket, feeling along his sweat-slick body, then glanced at the heap of snack boxes and beer bottles by the bed. At once, he understood most of it and let out a long sigh.
That familiar sigh made Xia Liu Yi want to hit him—but before he could, He Chu San had already turned and left. Moments later, he returned with a basin of hot water. He wrung out a towel and carefully wiped him down from head to toe, then applied medicated oil, massaging each aching joint and muscle in turn. Finally, he dressed him in a clean, fresh set of sleepwear—Boss Xia had been wearing nothing but his underwear—and replaced the damp sheets and blankets.
The entire process took nearly an hour.
At the end, while the bedding was being changed, Xia Liu Yi sat wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, so comfortable he nearly dozed off. He Chu San shook him awake to feed him a cup of hot milk, then handed him warm water to rinse his mouth before tucking him back into the dry, soft bed.
After suffering all day, Boss Xia only tasted the warmth of home at night. It was so comforting his eyes could barely stay open. He forced himself to remain conscious until He Chu San climbed into bed, then pulled him into his arms with one sweep and immediately began to snore softly.
He Chu San pressed against his head and sighed a sentence. Xia Liu Yi stirred faintly. “Mm?”
He Chu San repeated it. “You really need someone to keep you in line.”
The hell you do, you damn brat! Xia Liu Yi thought. But all that came out was a low grunt before he sank into sleep.
…
Boss Xia slept until noon. When he opened his eyes, sunlight streamed through the blinds—warm yet dazzling. Reaching out beside him, he found only empty space. His previously languid mood turned inexplicably irritable.
He got up, hair a mess, and looked around for a cigarette, only to find the room spotless. The chaotic pile of clothes from the past two weeks had been sorted and washed. He shuffled into the living room in his slippers—it too was immaculate.
Cigarettes had, of course, vanished entirely.
In their place, a few lollipops stood in a vase on the coffee table.
Boss Xia snorted at such childish things, scoffing as he went to wash up. Afterward, he took a call, tidied his appearance, and left in dashing fashion.
…
Under the gentle autumn sun, He Chu San walked through the market, carrying two bags of ingredients, his mood bright.
A fishmonger greeted him with a grin. “Young lad, haven’t seen you buying groceries in a while?”
“Yeah. Pick me a grouper.”
The owner skillfully gutted the fish. His wife came out from the back and smiled as well. “Back again, young lad? Cooking for your girlfriend?”
The young man lowered his head with a shy smile—practically an admission.
“So good to your girlfriend. When’s the wedding?”
He smiled shyly again, thanked her, took the fish, and left.
“Young people, so bashful,” the owner said to his wife. “Stop teasing him.”
“He’s cute.”
Love.
The cute young lad carried three large bags of groceries home, smiling all the way. Thinking of Brother Liu Yi sleeping in bed, wrapped in a blanket and snoring softly, filled his heart with peace and joy. He admitted to himself that he had been too busy lately. When not busy, he should cook for Brother Liu Yi every day; even at his busiest, he should at least set aside one day a week to keep him company.
So today, he had taken leave to prepare a long-overdue feast for his Boss.
Yet when he pushed open the door, he found only a cold, empty room—and a wrinkled sleepwear set tossed carelessly on the sofa.
He Chu San froze, then sighed, rubbing his temples.
He had been so busy he forgot to ask whether the Boss had plans today.
…
The Boss—who did have plans—had eaten a casual meal at a tea restaurant and now sat in the back seat of a car, a lollipop in his mouth, humming as he tapped another unopened one against his knee.
Bodyguard A’Nan, seated in the front passenger seat, noticed his good mood and dared to chat. “Boss, where’d you buy those lollipops?”
“Want one?” Xia Liu Yi smirked.
“Yeah.”
“Then buy your own! Bastard! You think you can just take the Boss’s lollipops? A’Mao, pull over—pick up Xiao Ma.”
The car stopped outside headquarters. Xiao Ma, sunburnt and miserable, was squatting by the roadside with two lackeys, smoking. Seeing the Boss’s car, he hurriedly waved them off and rushed over to open the door.
“Throw the cigarette away! Get rid of it! Air yourself out before getting in!” Xia Liu Yi barked at once. Damn it—if the smoke smell clung to him, even jumping into the sea wouldn’t wash it clean.
Xiao Ma stood outside fanning himself for a long while before getting in. Sitting beside Xia Liu Yi, he glanced at the Boss with a lollipop in his mouth and a blissful look on his face—and caught that unmistakable sour stench of love. It made his heart ache.
“Boss.”
“Your injuries healed yet?” Xia Liu Yi gave him a light smack on the back.
Xiao Ma shrank his neck. “Healed, healed.”
“Did I beat you wrong?”
“Wrong, wrong… no! I was wrong! Boss is never wrong!”
Xia Liu Yi smacked him lightly—but not gently—on the forehead again. “Ma Rulong, you—! I went out of my way back then to tell the elders you had both courage and brains. Use your head a bit more when you do things! How’s Jade Guanyin? Causing trouble again?”
“No, no—she’s at home recovering, behaving herself,” Xiao Ma said quickly. (Aside from pinning him down every few days to force some… indecent ‘exercise’…)
“Jade Guanyin is a deep one. No telling what she’s really here in Hong Kong for. Sooner or later, Xiao Qi Hall sheltering her will be found out by Golden Maitreya. When that time comes, we might have to pack her up and send her back. Don’t get too entangled with her—watch yourself,” Xia Liu Yi said.
“B-But she said… she came to help you, Boss…” Xiao Ma dared to speak up for her.
“Help me? The hell can she help me with? Stirring trouble? Killing people?” Xia Liu Yi scoffed.
He had never had much patience or fondness for someone as unhinged as Jade Guanyin. If not for the fact that, over the years, she had only ever played small tricks without truly harming him—and had even once helped him out of a tight spot in front of Golden Maitreya—he would’ve long since packed her off back to Thailand.
Truth be told, he had always been wary of her stance. Jade Guanyin was ruthless and inscrutable, but most of the time she merely acted under Golden Maitreya’s orders—a beautiful puppet used to deceive outsiders. On the surface, she appeared obedient to him in everything, but what she truly thought inside was another matter entirely. Now that she seemed ready to turn against Golden Maitreya, she must have grown tired of being a puppet—and seized upon some weakness of his.
Xia Liu Yi was deeply curious about that weakness, yet he feigned indifference, leaving her out in the cold a little longer—waiting for the day she would speak of it herself.
……
The car came to a stop outside a luxurious bathhouse. Xia Liu Yi crunched the remaining half of his lollipop between his teeth, swallowed it, and stepped out with Xiao Ma. Under the enthusiastic welcome of the manager, he entered to accompany Master Qiao for a sauna.
This time, he had accepted Master Qiao’s invitation to discuss business—and incidentally brought Xiao Ma along to get acquainted with the mid-level leaders under the He Sheng Society.
Their bodyguards remained outside. The two bosses occupied an entire bathing pool, steam swirling thick around them as they spoke at leisure. Master Qiao analyzed the current situation with practiced ease. Xia Liu Yi tried to probe him indirectly about the Old Shopkeeper, but he only replied that the winds had been tight lately—no one had heard any news of him for quite some time.
“Twin-Blade Xia, you don’t need to worry about that. The Old Shopkeeper knows who is loyal to him,” Master Qiao rasped with a half-smile. Suddenly, he coughed harshly, then turned and spat a thick gob of phlegm onto the ground outside the pool. Chuckling hoarsely as if it were bold and carefree, he added, “When there’s profit, you won’t be left out.”
Xia Liu Yi expressionlessly averted his gaze, inwardly very much tempted to grab this filthy, sickly old fox and toss him out the window.
His thoughts drifted elsewhere. That He Chu San, that damn brat—clean and fair, gentle and capable—the way he would cling and softly call him “Brother Liu Yi” was far more pleasing to the eye. With such bright sunshine today, he ought to have dragged that brat to the seaside for a barbecue, or out fishing on the open sea—not soaking in stale water in this sunless bathhouse with an old fox.
Xia Liu Yi wanted information about the Old Shopkeeper from Master Qiao. Master Qiao, in turn, wanted to pry information about Golden Maitreya’s channels from Xia Liu Yi. The two circled each other in words all afternoon, neither gaining ground. In that time, they bathed, steamed in the sauna, had massages—and even followed the trend by getting facials.
Xia Liu Yi found it intolerable to have strangers touch his face—and felt like the attendant giving him the facial was practically drooling onto his forehead.
After the massage, Master Qiao invited him to dine at his newly opened restaurant, and later to visit an underground boxing arena. Tonight’s match, he said, would be extraordinary—a life-and-death contract, one against five. His illegal boxing business in Hong Kong was booming, and he hoped to rope Xia Liu Yi into expanding it into Macau—though over there, local powers made things difficult for him alone.
……
Riding in his own car, following behind Master Qiao’s vehicle—with both sides’ bodyguards forming a long convoy—they drove in imposing formation toward the restaurant.
Xiao Ma, who had spent the entire afternoon fooling around with some of the He Sheng underlings at the bathhouse, now sat beside Xia Liu Yi looking utterly drained, his face on the verge of collapse.
“What’s wrong?” Xia Liu Yi kicked him lightly. “Why the funeral face?”
“Boss, I… I…” Xiao Ma’s voice trembled. Glancing at the two bodyguards in front, he leaned in and whispered, “I think… I’m not working anymore.”
“Not working? What’s not working?” Xia Liu Yi didn’t catch on at first.
Xiao Ma flushed with embarrassment. “That… you know, Boss.”
“The hell do you mean ‘that’?”
The two bodyguards in front shook with suppressed laughter. Xiao Ma shot them a glare, then, under Xia Liu Yi’s impatient gaze, raised his hand and made an awkward gesture—one finger poking into a circle.
“……” His boss fell silent.
“The girl who gave me a massage today—her chest was this big,” Xiao Ma gestured wildly, about the size of basketballs. “And I felt absolutely nothing! I’m finished, Boss—I, Xiao Ma, a legend in love, struck down in my prime…” Covering his face, he shrank toward the window and began to weep.
His boss—who had secretly been “not working” for many years—felt deeply awkward. He had no ground to mock him, nor did he know how to comfort him. Seeing his brother’s desolate back, he could only pat him kindly on the shoulder.
The two bodyguards in front were on the verge of exploding from holding in their laughter, nostrils flaring wildly as they nearly choked.
……
Dinner was served far too early. Facing a table laden with delicacies, Xia Liu Yi had no appetite whatsoever. Master Qiao sat beside him, chatting with several subordinates.
Suddenly, Xia Liu Yi’s mobile rang. Master Qiao flicked him a glance from the corner of his eye.
Xia Liu Yi checked the number and answered calmly. “Hello?”
On the other end, He Chu San heard the cool tone and knew he wasn’t alone, so he didn’t call his name—only asked softly, “Are you coming back for dinner tonight?”
Xia Liu Yi glanced at the tasteless abalone, sea cucumber, shark fin, and maw before him. He very nearly wanted to flip the table and speed home. But glancing again at Master Qiao, he replied coldly, “Handle it yourself. I’ll be back late.”
He hung up, then, meeting Master Qiao’s gaze, cursed impatiently, “Damn it—useless bunch, bringing every trivial thing to me.”
After the meal, Master Qiao invited him to ride in the same car to the boxing venue. Unable to refuse, Xia Liu Yi leaned toward A’Nan before getting in and murmured, “Call Mr. He. Tell him I’ll be very late—no need to wait.”
……
The convoy twisted through winding roads until they arrived at a remote, abandoned factory. A few scattered thugs stood guard outside.
Master Qiao led Xia Liu Yi through the VIP entrance. The moment they stepped inside—an overwhelming roar erupted!
At the center of the factory stood a high boxing ring, surrounded on all sides by a sea of people. Gamblers who had placed their bets shouted the names of their chosen fighters. Even before the match began, a quarrel broke out among fans—only for burly guards to knock them unconscious with a single punch and drag them out.
Master Qiao seated Xia Liu Yi in the elevated VIP section. Looking over the dense crowd, they saw a scrawny, sharp-faced referee clamber onto the ring, followed by several massive fighters pounding their chests and roaring in challenge. The crowd surged into a frenzy—some in the front rows even tried to rush the ring, shouting wildly.
Then, as one, the entire arena began chanting a nickname—
“White Dragonling! White Dragonling! White Dragonling! White Dragonling!”
Master Qiao smiled smugly and leaned over. “A new expert who arrived last month. Ten days—ten fights—undefeated. Tonight, he’ll challenge five at once.”
He let out his signature hoarse laugh, adding meaningfully, “Once you see him, you’ll definitely take a liking.”
Xia Liu Yi had little interest in such life-for-money spectacles. He smiled perfunctorily, turned his head, and stifled a yawn—absently rubbing his stomach, beginning to feel faintly hungry.
But when he looked back at the ring—his brows suddenly furrowed!
His gaze locked onto the face of the fighter stepping forward amid the roaring cheers—“White Dragonling.”
Lean muscle, tall and lithe, a handsome and familiar face, an aloof and indifferent expression—
It was none other than Qin Hao, who had vanished without a trace after being released from prison a month ago.
Xia Liu Yi shot Master Qiao a speechless glance. The latter still wore that knowing, half-smiling expression, convinced he had pleased the famously loyal Twin-Blade Xia.
“Well? What do you think?”
Xia Liu Yi raised a brow, took a cigar from Master Qiao’s case, tapped it, bit it between his lips, and lit it.
“Nothing special,” he said flatly. “Just a counterfeit.”
“Young man’s quite skilled—he’s a money tree,” Master Qiao said. “If you like him, he’s yours.”
Xia Liu Yi merely smiled without comment—though inwardly, he still very much wanted to throw the old fox down onto the ring.
His gaze returned to the arena.
The referee’s whistle shrilled—
Qin Hao leapt into the air, delivering a fierce spinning kick that struck one of the hulking fighters square in the head—sending him flying off the ring!
The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, loud enough to tear the roof off the factory.
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