In the dead of night, Xia Liu Yi opened his eyes.
The first thing that came into view was a television, broadcasting the late-night news.
“At 10:33 this morning, police surrounded and sealed off an office building located in Yau Ma Tei, detaining several staff members. Relevant authorities state that the case is currently under confidential investigation, and further details cannot be disclosed…”
His mind was still clouded. He tried to rise—only to discover he could scarcely move.
His hands and feet had been shackled by four sets of handcuffs, each fastened to one of the bedposts, stretching him into a rigid, spread-eagle position.
Turning his head, he surveyed his surroundings.
He had been imprisoned in a strange underground chamber. The space was barren—only a bed, a television, a basin for washing, and a toilet. A heavy iron lock hung upon the door, sealing it into an airtight prison cell.
He Chu San sat at the bedside with his back to him, watching the television with rapt attention.
Xia Liu Yi was startled and bewildered. Just as he was about to call out to He Chu San, the image on the screen suddenly shifted.
“At 12:15 this afternoon, police surrounded a private residence on XX Road. Nearby residents reported hearing intense gunfire at the scene. After a period of sustained shooting, the residence subsequently exploded…”
The screen cut—
The ruins of a villa, cordoned off by police tape, burst into view.
The familiar streetscape—the shattered bricks and broken walls—struck his mind like a thunderbolt, jolting his memory awake. The deafening roar of an explosion seemed to echo once more within his skull—
That was the villa of Azure Dragon!”
The very place where he had sent Cui Dong Dong to retrieve the Dragon Head ledgers!
Why would the police surround it?!
Why was there gunfire—and an explosion?!
Where was Dong Dong?!
On the television, several emergency workers carried out two stretchers bearing body bags. From the edge of one bag, a strand of charred black hair slipped into view.
Xia Liu Yi’s breathing turned ragged. His limbs strained violently against the restraints, the handcuffs clattering sharply against the bedposts.
Only then did He Chu San notice he had awakened.
He turned his head, glanced at Xia Liu Yi, and rose to approach the bed. “Awake?”
Xia Liu Yi glared at him, tugging fiercely at the chains. “What is going on?!”
He Chu San spoke calmly, as if stating an ordinary fact. “Qin Hao is an undercover agent. I gave him your criminal records and helped him wipe out Xiao Qi Hall. The explosives in the villa were also planted by me.”
Xia Liu Yi stared at him in shock.
He could not believe what he was seeing.
He could not believe a single word spoken from He Chu San’s lips.
Yet the ruins on the television screen burned into his eyes, forcing him to acknowledge that all of this was real.
“What did you say? Why would you do this?” he asked, his voice uncertain.
He Chu San reached out and gently stroked his face. Warm fingertips traced along his furrowed brow, down the bridge of his nose—as though he were a child who would never grow up, handled with indulgent tenderness.
His gaze followed his fingers as they wandered across Xia Liu Yi’s face. Softly, he said, “Have you forgotten? I once told you—I’ve always wanted to lock you up, cuff you to a bed, and never let you go anywhere.”
Only then did Xia Liu Yi feel the chill seep into his bones. His blood seemed to flow in reverse. At last, he realized something was terribly wrong.
“Stop talking nonsense. What are you trying to do? Where’s Dong Dong? Where is she?!”
“I truly didn’t want to make you sad,” He Chu San said.
But he continued nonetheless.
“When the explosion happened, she and Xiao Luo were inside the villa—surrounded by the police.”
In Xia Liu Yi’s mind, the two black body bags from the television flashed once more. The thunderous roar of the explosion seemed to resound again in his ears.
He froze for a long moment, utterly unable to accept it.
“What kind of bullshit are you spouting?!”
He strained against the cuffs, trying to grab He Chu San.
“A’San! What’s wrong with you?! Is someone threatening you?!”
He Chu San caught his wrist effortlessly. With a swift motion, he tore off the finely crafted cufflink from Xia Liu Yi’s sleeve, snapping it open to reveal a concealed listening device.
He then picked up Xia Liu Yi’s leather shoe from the foot of the bed, prying out a tracking device hidden in the heel.
Holding both items up, he showed them to him.
“Your phone, your car, your office—they all have these. I know every movement you make, every intention you harbor.”
From within his clothing, he produced an old, worn notebook and waved it lightly before Xia Liu Yi’s eyes.
“This is what you sent Dong Dong to retrieve from the villa, isn’t it? I took it beforehand. Even in death, she never found it.”
Xia Liu Yi stared blankly at the notebook in his hand—
It was the Dragon Head ledger of Xiao Qi Hall.
The one thing that should never have been associated with the clean, pure, and timid He Chu San he knew.
Everything before him felt like falling into an abyss.
Caught utterly unprepared.
If it had been anyone else placing him in such a situation, he could have remained calm—could have thought, could have responded.
But now…
His mind was completely blank.
Was this person before him… truly He Chu San?
After a long silence, he finally forced out a hoarse, fragile whisper:
“Why?”
He Chu San leaned down close to his ear and let out a low chuckle.
“Weren’t you going off to do something dangerous? I’ve destroyed your faction, locked your limbs, and killed your strategist. Let’s see what else you can do now.”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Xia Liu Yi roared hoarsely at last.
“Yes. That’s it,” He Chu San replied calmly. “Louder. Show me more anger.”
Xia Liu Yi choked—his throat tightening until no sound could escape. He stared at He Chu San in stunned disbelief, as though the man had gone completely insane.
“Enough. This is sufficient,” He Chu San said, lightly brushing a hand across his cold cheek.
He turned and switched off the television, then walked toward the basement door. The bodyguard outside promptly locked it shut. His footsteps faded into the distance.
The room fell silent.
Xia Liu Yi lay rigid upon the bed, his thoughts in chaos, as though trapped within a waking nightmare.
……
He Chu San ascended the stairs and shut the side door leading to the basement.
In the living room, sprawled arrogantly upon the sofa, sat Master Qiao and his adviser. Kevin stood beside them, pouring red wine with a deferential bow.
“Brother He, care for a drink?” Master Qiao laughed heartily, as though he were the master of the house, gesturing for Kevin to fill a glass for He Chu San.
He Chu San sat down across from him with ease, accepting the glass. “Master Qiao—you heard?”
“Heard it all! Hahaha!” Master Qiao roared with delight, his face wrinkling into folds. “What a masterstroke, Brother He! I reckon Xia Liu Yi’s about to die of rage! Back then, you alone ignited the war between He Yi Society and Xiao Qi Hall, and even escaped my grounds single-handed—I knew you were no ordinary man! And now, you’ve toyed with Xia Liu Yi and the cops alike, spinning them in circles, and seized the throne with ease—truly a rising dragon among men! Hahaha!”
“You flatter me,” He Chu San replied with a faint smile. “It was thanks to Master Qiao’s trust—agreeing to support me as Dragon Head, and providing manpower and explosives. Alone, how could I have played this game so smoothly?”
“But why keep Xia Liu Yi alive?” Master Qiao’s laughter suddenly ceased. A shadow of suspicion and killing intent flickered in his eyes.
He Chu San smiled slightly. “Without the Dragon Head Staff, the seat of authority cannot be secured.”
Master Qiao frowned. “You still haven’t found the Dragon Head Staff?”
——This was an old rule of the jianghu: every Dragon Head Boss would secretly choose a person of absolute trust to safeguard the Dragon Head Staff. Should anything happen to the Boss, the one holding the staff could summon the elders and the brethren to elect a new leader. Only with the recognition of all—and with the Dragon Head Staff in hand—could one truly become the Dragon Head Boss.
Back in those years, when Xu Ying murdered Azure Dragon yet failed to ascend the throne for a long time, it was precisely because Uncle Yuan—who had been entrusted with Azure Dragon’s Dragon Head Staff—refused to show himself.
He Chu San said, “Now that Xia Liu Yi has fled and Cui Dong Dong is dead, yet the Dragon Head Staff of Xiao Qi Hall has not appeared—I reckon Cui Dong Dong was Xia Liu Yi’s staff-holder. As long as there’s no news of Xia Liu Yi’s death, and as long as the staff does not surface, he remains the Hall Master of Xiao Qi Hall. I, in turn, am merely his acting head. This is what they call ‘holding the Son of Heaven hostage to command the feudal lords’…”
He paused, lifted his glass of red wine for a slow sip, then cast a faint smile toward Master Qiao. “Besides… you don’t seriously think all those years he slept with me were for nothing, do you? I ought to collect what I’m owed.”
“Oh!” Master Qiao caught the meaning behind that smile and burst into laughter. “So Brother He has been enduring humiliation all these years! Hahaha!”
Still laughing, he leaned closer with a lecherous grin. “Hey—someone like Xia Liu Yi… in the eyes of people like you, isn’t he especially good in bed? Real exhilarating, eh?”
“Care to try?”
“I’ll pass, I’ll pass! Not my taste! Hahaha!” Master Qiao leaned back into the sofa, laughing so hard his face twisted out of shape, completely missing the fleeting chill that flashed across He Chu San’s eyes.
The atmosphere in the room soon turned warm and cordial once more. The two men exchanged pleasantries like brothers in perfect harmony. Master Qiao clapped a hand on Kevin’s back. “Kevin’s been helping under you—satisfied?”
Though Kevin bore the name of Xiao Qi Hall, he had in truth been planted there by Master Qiao from the very beginning. After He Chu San took the initiative to seek cooperation, Master Qiao sent Kevin over—both to assist and to keep watch on him.
He Chu San smiled. “Of course I’m satisfied.”
“Good! Then I’ll give him to you. If you ever need anything from your elder brother, just tell him—he’ll come back to me.”
He Chu San glanced at Kevin with a smile, well aware that this was Master Qiao’s way of keeping a leash on him. “Very well. Many thanks, Brother Qiao. Let me toast you again.”
……
Not long after, Master Qiao rose with his adviser to take his leave. Once outside, he climbed into the car, cigar clenched between his teeth, puffing leisurely as he spoke to the adviser—who had been silent and inconspicuous the entire time inside.
“Well? What do you think?”
“That Xia Liu Yi once gave up a prime operation just to save that boy, yet the boy turned around and stabbed him in the heart—he’s ruthless,” the adviser said. “Still, his ability to rake in and launder money is exceptional. Xia Liu Yi may not have saved him for love—more likely he couldn’t bear to lose the profits the boy brought in. He’s very useful to us, but far too cunning. Master Qiao, you mustn’t trust him completely.”
Master Qiao cackled, slapping his thigh. “I know. When you use a man, you must doubt him; when you doubt a man, you must still use him.”
……
He Chu San stood by the living room window, watching until Master Qiao’s car vanished around the bend. Then he turned to Kevin behind him. “What did Master Qiao tell you just now?”
“To continue monitoring you—and to urge you to kill Mr. Xia,” Kevin replied.
He Chu San smiled faintly. “String him along for now. Every few days, make something up about how I’m tormenting Mr. Xia and report it to him.”
“Yes.” Kevin responded, then glanced toward the basement. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Mr. Xia is furious. What do you intend to do with him? Keep him locked up like this?”
He Chu San swirled the red wine in his glass.
“Let him stay locked up. Let him reflect.”
……
Qin Hao stepped out of the hospital room and looked at the two waiting outside.
“Brother Jia Bao, people from the Political Department will come tomorrow to conduct an internal investigation on us. Brother Jia Hua said we should go back early, rest, and be ready to face it.”
Xie Jia Bao cast a hesitant glance into the ward, nodded, and took his leave. Lu Guang Ming, however, remained where he stood, smiling at Qin Hao as though they were old acquaintances.
Having known Xie Jia Hua for years, Qin Hao had never seen this so-called “friend.” He returned a cold, scrutinizing gaze. “Brother Jia Hua wants to see you.”
Lu Guang Ming slipped inside, shut the door, and approached the bed, astonished. “You actually wanted to see me?”
Xie Jia Hua sat propped against the bed, face ashen. He slapped the photo—of himself drinking with Qin Hao—onto the bed. “Explain.”
Lu Guang Ming glanced at the photo, baffled. “Explain what?”
“Did you take this?! What does this have to do with you?! Or are you the one behind it all?!” Xie Jia Hua snapped. The only person who had followed him and seen his meeting with Qin Hao was Lu Guang Ming—he could think of no one else.
Lu Guang Ming picked up the photo and examined it carefully. Xie Jia Hua, seeing him still putting on an act, grabbed a pillow and prepared to hurl it. Lu Guang Ming quickly raised both hands. “Officer Xie! Wrongfully accusing a good man is a crime!”
You call yourself a good man?! Xie Jia Hua nearly cursed aloud.
“Look closely,” Lu Guang Ming said, holding the photo up. “It’s fake. Someone cut out your profile, pasted it onto another person drinking with your undercover subordinate, then reprocessed the image. Since both photos were taken in bars or clubs, the lighting looks similar—but examine your face carefully. The direction of one shadow is completely off.”
He added innocently, “Think about it—if I took it, would I need to go through all that trouble?”
Xie Jia Hua snatched the photo and scrutinized it. The image was blurry, dimly lit, the location indiscernible save for a small candle illuminating their faces. After a long while, he finally noticed several inconsistencies in the lighting—and realized he had never worn such a collar when meeting Qin Hao. In his agitation earlier, he had missed these details.
He set down the pillow, his anger subsiding though suspicion remained. “How did you know I was hospitalized?”
Lu Guang Ming grinned. “I was at the explosion site. I tapped into your police internal radio.”
“……” Xie Jia Hua lifted the pillow again.
“Hey, hey—don’t!” Lu Guang Ming protested quickly. Getting hit with a pillow was worse than a punch—it would ruin his freshly styled hair. “I was there on business. I suspected Cui Dong Dong went to Hao Cheng Qing’s former residence to retrieve Xiao Qi Hall’s account books—otherwise she wouldn’t have rushed there while being hunted. I meant to sneak a look, but when I arrived, I saw you blown away…”
“And honestly,” he added with mock seriousness, “you’re not young anymore. Why so reckless? You didn’t even check before charging in.”
Eight years older, Xie Jia Hua silently raised the pillow once more.
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” Lu Guang Ming said, retreating. “I just came to see if you were alright.”
“You’re fine—that’s good. I’ll be going now.” He tactfully excused himself.
Xie Jia Hua glared at him until he left, then threw the pillow aside and lay back with a sigh, feeling his earlier outburst had been childish.
He did not believe Lu Guang Ming had come merely out of concern. From experience, the more innocent the man acted, the more schemes he hid. Yet he could not figure out what Lu Guang Ming stood to gain.
Nor could he understand why He Chu San would dare to manipulate the police, go to such lengths to edge out Xia Liu Yi, kill Cui Dong Dong, and seize the position of Xiao Qi Hall’s leader. He did not believe He Chu San to be blinded by greed or madness—yet he could not discern his true motive.
Xie Jia Hua did not sleep the entire night. He called for paper and pen, mapping out the internal and external relationships of Xiao Qi Hall. He recorded every major event since Hao Wei, father of Hao Cheng Qing, founded the organization; the succession of Dragon Heads; Xia Liu Yi’s abnormal behavior after taking power; and every key piece of information he possessed.
Chewing on the end of his pen, he pondered deeply as he wrote. Before he knew it, dawn had broken.
He tossed aside the pen, rose from bed, walked to the window, and made a call.
“Hello? Prince Duan? It’s Ah Hua—sorry for calling so early.”
“No major issues, just a mild concussion. Thank you for your concern.”
“Yes, I need your help. I want to contact Interpol’s Thailand division and request information on a drug lord named ‘Golden Maitreya.’ I heard Thai authorities targeted him and his syndicate heavily last year… Yes, I’d like to know when he first entered the drug trade, and his past background…”
“Alright. I’ll leave this matter to you. Many thanks.”
After hanging up, he opened the window, letting in fresh air. Amid birdsong, he drew a deep breath and rubbed his temples—then turned back—
Only to see Lu Guang Ming standing at the door, smiling, who knew how long he had been eavesdropping.
“……” Xie Jia Hua.
After being tormented time and again by this man’s shameless persistence, he no longer even had the energy to get angry.
“What are you here for now?” he asked, sitting back down.
“Thought you had no one to take care of you,” Lu Guang Ming said, lifting the food container in his hand. “Brought you breakfast.”
“I—”
Before Xie Jia Hua could finish, Lu Guang Ming was suddenly shoved aside as seven or eight young men and women flooded into the room, chattering like sparrows as they swarmed the bed.
“Boss!” “Boss, we came to see you!” “Boss! Are you okay? We didn’t come yesterday for fear of disturbing your rest—we waited until morning to bring breakfast!”
“There’s pan-fried buns, rice rolls, pineapple buns, milk, coffee…”
“And porridge my mom made for you!”
“And that idiot B-boy even bought you a hamburger—can a patient eat hamburgers?!”
“Why can’t a patient eat hamburgers?!”
Surrounded by his subordinates, the room filled with warmth and lively chatter. Through the gaps between them, Xie Jia Hua glanced outward—just in time to see Lu Guang Ming’s departing figure.
The lunchbox he had brought was left behind, sitting alone on a small cabinet by the door.
Futile Devices Scans 
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