Over here, He Chu San had just seen the Boss off at the back entrance of the restaurant. Meanwhile, at the front entrance, Mr. He was making his rounds, toasting and exchanging pleasantries with several tables of guests seated along the street.
Having already gone table by table, Mr. He was beginning to feel the effects of the wine. Still, he insisted on drinking a few more lively rounds with the old neighbors, until Mrs. Wu stepped in to dissuade him, reminding him that his cardiovascular health was fragile and that he must not overindulge.
The neighbors clamored for his son to come out and drink in his stead. Mr. He waved it off, saying his son “would collapse after three cups,” and there was no need to drag him out and make a fool of himself. The neighbors burst into laughter, insisting all the more that A’San be brought out for a showing.
Mr. He turned back to look—but He Chu San was nowhere to be seen. Left with no choice, he sent Xin Xin to look for him.
While waiting, the neighbors chattered noisily, praising Mr. He for his late-life fortune. After half a lifetime of hardship, he had gained both a wife and a daughter, and even raised such an outstanding son—educated, capable of earning money, and filial besides. Truly, they said, he must have accumulated great virtue in his past life.
From there, the conversation turned to A’San’s remarkable friend. That officer had come to pick a fight and struck A’San—but that friend had immediately struck back with a single punch! Everyone thought it would escalate into serious trouble, yet unexpectedly, that same friend managed to smooth things over with just a few words, sending the officer away in good spirits.
Mr. He smiled as he held his wine glass, listening to their retelling of the earlier commotion. Yet beneath his calm exterior, a ripple stirred in his heart.
He knew that A’San and Xia Liu Yi were close—they had once saved each other in times of peril, after all. But for Xia Liu Yi to strike an officer on A’San’s behalf—that was no small matter.
Recalling his son’s past evasiveness and strange behavior, Mr. He began to suspect that the relationship between the two might not be as simple as ordinary friendship.
His gaze shifted to He Chu San, who had just been brought out by Xin Xin.
He Chu San’s face was flushed, his smile radiant. Though he usually avoided alcohol, tonight he took the initiative to toast again and again, joking with the uncles and aunties, saying all the right things, making the entire table erupt with laughter.
What is this brat up to? Mr. He’s heart began to drum uneasily.
Sneaking off all night, who knows where—and now that he shows up, he’s grinning like a fool. Your old man is getting married—why do you look happier than if it were your own wedding?
By late night, the lively wedding banquet finally drew to a close. Guests gradually departed, leaving behind a mess of cups and plates. The He family of four remained behind to handle the aftermath.
He Chu San checked the additional expenses with the manager. Mrs. Wu and Xin Xin gathered clothes and gifts. Mr. He lingered at the entrance, chatting endlessly with the last few old friends who had yet to leave.
At that moment, a cleaning attendant approached Mrs. Wu and asked her to check whether a bag of items left behind belonged to their family. Seeing that He Chu San and Xin Xin were still occupied, Mrs. Wu followed alone.
The attendant led her into the storage room and pointed to a large sack in the corner.
Mrs. Wu opened it and saw a heap of crushed rose petals and small white bouquets. Among them lay a wrinkled, stained wine-red suit jacket.
Such a bold and eye-catching color—only one guest had worn it that night.
Mrs. Wu remembered that young man clearly—the one Mr. He had praised as “young and promising,” the same one the guests said had even struck a policeman.
A trace of confusion crossed her mind. Though she could not piece it together, she tied the sack back up and said, “It should be ours. Leave it here—we’ll take it later.”
She returned to the hall and continued packing.
Before long, she saw He Chu San finishing up with the manager. His face was flushed from drink, his steps slightly unsteady as he made his way toward her.
She was about to go help him when she noticed him glance around. Too drunk, he failed to spot her in the corner—then walked straight into the storage room.
Moments later, he came out carrying the sack. He staggered toward the back entrance, and when he returned, the sack was gone.
Mrs. Wu was not one to meddle. She said nothing, pretending she had never seen it—though her doubts deepened.
After settling everything, the family of four stood at the roadside, hailing taxis. They planned to send Mr. He, Mrs. Wu, and Xin Xin home first, while He Chu San would take another cab back to his rented place.
Mr. He, flushed with drink, clung to Mrs. Wu, rambling endlessly. As she supported him and coaxed him along, Mrs. Wu cast a glance toward He Chu San.
He Chu San had drunk quite a bit that night. Even before the banquet ended, he had begun to feel dizzy. Though he had forced himself to remain conscious long enough to settle the bill, he had barely understood a word the manager was saying.
That he still remembered to return to the storage room and dispose of that sack—it was nothing but pure instinct for self-preservation.
His drunkenness was not obvious. He simply leaned against a roadside lamppost, standing quietly, his gaze fixed on the far end of the street, as if lost in thought.
As he stood there, his expression gradually softened into something wistful. A faint smile tugged at his lips—no one knew what happy thought occupied his mind.
At that moment, Xin Xin—still dressed in her thin bridesmaid dress—suddenly sneezed.
He Chu San snapped out of his reverie. Without thinking, he removed his suit jacket, stepped forward, and draped it over her shoulders.
“Ah!” Mrs. Wu suddenly let out a soft cry, then hurriedly covered her mouth, her expression startled.
Both He Chu San and Xin Xin turned to look at her.
She shook her head awkwardly and forced a smile. “It’s nothing—your father’s too heavy. I almost couldn’t hold him.”
“What do you mean heavy? I’m perfectly average weight!” Mr. He protested loudly.
Mrs. Wu coaxed him along, deliberately guiding him toward the roadside—carefully preventing him from looking in He Chu San’s direction.
Not long after, a taxi arrived. Mrs. Wu helped Mr. He into the back seat, while Xin Xin slipped into the front passenger seat. Through the car window, Mrs. Wu looked at He Chu San as if she wanted to say something, yet hesitated. In the end, she only asked softly, “A’San… are you alright? Can you get home on your own?”
“I’m fine,” He Chu San replied gently. “You’ve worked hard tonight, Mom.”
“You… living alone like this, you must take good care of yourself.”
“I will, Mom.”
After seeing his family off, He Chu San hailed another taxi and returned to his rented room in Tsim Sha Tsui. Having given his coat to Xin Xin, he was battered by the cold night wind all the way back, sneezing repeatedly. As the alcohol wore off slightly, he began to feel a damp chill across his back—likely from the sweat earlier.
The moment he stepped inside, he rushed into the bathroom, intending to take a hot shower.
But the instant the water hit his back, a searing pain flared up!
He stepped to the sink and looked into the mirror—and froze in shock.
His entire back was covered in bloody scratch marks.
“—Tch! You really went at it hard, didn’t you, Boss? Was it really that good?”
Half in pain, half in delight, he let out a foolish chuckle at his reflection. Then suddenly remembering something, his expression stiffened. He turned, grabbed the white shirt he had just taken off—
Sure enough, streaks of blood stained the back of it.
Recalling Mrs. Wu’s startled cry and awkward expression earlier, he stood there holding the shirt for a long moment—then sneezed violently again.
“—Joy at its peak turns to sorrow… this time, my old man’s going to break my legs!”
…
Dozens of kilometers away, on the other side of the city, Xia Liu Yi—also standing in the biting night wind—let out a fierce sneeze.
He straightened his shoulders, pulling on the coat draped over him by a bodyguard, then took a tissue handed over by another. With his usual carefree swagger, he blew his nose loudly. Tossing the crumpled tissue into the pool of blood on the ground, he stepped forward and brought his foot down heavily on the face of the Thai assassin.
The man on the ground coughed up blood, struggling beneath his foot, cursing hoarsely in Thai.
Xia Liu Yi let out a mocking snort, picking at his ear impatiently. “Buddha, Buddha—damn it, I found it funny the first time I heard it! And he dares call himself Buddha? When you see your so-called Buddha down below, tell him to switch to worshipping Satan!”
With that, he delivered another brutal kick!
A crisp crack of breaking neck bones rang out in the air. The curses ceased entirely.
Expressionless, he buttoned his coat as he walked out of the room. “Clean everything up. Leave no survivors.”
“Yes, Boss!”
He exited the small house without a trace of hesitation. As he walked, he shifted slightly, adjusting his stance with faint discomfort—the force from those kicks had strained certain muscles, leaving a dull soreness in his hips and thighs.
He slipped into the car waiting by the roadside, lowering himself carefully into the seat. Xiao Ma was in the back, speaking on the phone, issuing orders to his subordinates. Seeing Xia Liu Yi enter, he hurriedly ended the call.
“Boss!”
“The ones on your side—taken care of?”
“Yes! Burned the car along with them.”
Xia Liu Yi gave his shoulder a heavy pat. “Good.”
“Heh!” Xiao Ma instantly puffed up with pride, like a warhorse adorned in golden tack. But before he could bask in it for more than three seconds, A’Nan opened the front passenger door and climbed in, respectfully reporting, “Boss, Inspector Wu’s matter has been handled.”
Xia Liu Yi nodded in satisfaction and gave him a firm pat as well. “Good.”
“….” Xiao Ma, once again deprived of exclusive favor.
The car pulled out of the alley and onto the main road. Before long, they came upon the scene of a traffic accident.
Traffic police had already sealed off the area. Paramedics were lifting a mangled, bloodied figure onto a stretcher. A scattering of bystanders stood around, pointing and whispering.
The victim, it was said, was an old inspector who had thrown his weight around the neighborhood for twenty years, recently demoted. Perhaps plagued by bad luck and a sour mood, he had drunk too much that night and, in a daze, run a red light straight into the road—only to be struck head-on by a speeding car.
The impact had sent him flying into the air.
When he landed, he was nearly broken in two—his femur shattered, bone piercing through flesh. He was still barely alive, but it was likely he would never stand again.
Xia Liu Yi had the car stop at a distance. He watched the scene coldly for a moment. Once the ambulance sped away, he withdrew his gaze and said flatly, “Let’s go.”
The car started moving again.
Xia Liu Yi fished a lollipop out of his pocket, popped it into his mouth, and leaned back lazily in his seat, utterly at ease.
“Not going back to Gaau Lung Walled City tonight. We’re going home.”
Futile Devices Scans 
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