At two in the dead of night, the lights in the police station office still burned bright. had only just concluded the arrest of a major criminal earlier that day; faint traces of blood still stained his sleeves, and several layers of bandages were wrapped around his exposed arms. Seated at his desk, he flipped through a stack of case files while sipping coffee.
His brows were tightly knit. His face, lean and sharply hewn as if carved by blade and axe, seemed ever more austere and severe. Though only thirty-three this year, faint lines had already formed at the corners of his eyes. Bloodshot threads lingered around his deep-set gaze—the toll of years spent with no personal time, working cases day and night without rest.
Just as he reached a particularly absorbing passage, the bulky mobile phone on his desk suddenly rang, startling him. A call at such an hour—his professional instincts immediately assumed another major or homicide case. He hurriedly picked it up. “Hello?”
A few words came from the other end. He pulled the phone away in surprise and glanced at the caller ID, his frown deepening. “What? How is he now? …Alright, I’ll come immediately.”
He rose in haste, grabbing his coat and car keys. After a few steps, he paused as if recalling something, turned back, and carefully locked the stack of documents he had just been reviewing into a drawer. Then he strode out at speed.
……
The car soon came to a halt outside a bar on the corner of Lockhart Road. At this late hour, the bar street had grown sparse; only a few drunks lingered in the distance, shoving and cursing at one another by the roadside. Xie Jia Hua cast them a cautious glance, confirming it was mere drunken horseplay rather than a fight, before quickly entering the small bar.
The patrons had all left. The young proprietor and bartender were separately cleaning up the mess scattered across the floor and counter. When they saw him enter, both were startled. “Ah, Ward! So it’s you!”
Many years ago, Xie Jia Hua had met Tang Jia Qi here; he had once been a regular. The bartender exchanged a few pleasantries before picking up a filthy mobile phone smeared with ketchup and liquor from the counter. “You were the only one saved in his phone as a contact starting with ‘0,’ so we called you.”
Xie Jia Hua took the phone and checked. Sure enough, the first entry in the address book was his number, saved under the name: “0_TheFool.”
The bartender had witnessed the last time Xie Jia Hua got drunk and was taken away by Lu Guang Ming, and vaguely suspected there was something unusual between them. Leaning close, he whispered, “He’s been here a few times before, never once drunk. But tonight, who knows what got into him—he just kept drinking and vomiting. We couldn’t even throw him out. Hurry and take him back, coax him a bit.”
“Where is he?” Xie Jia Hua asked, scanning the room.
“On the sofa in the back. Not causing a scene—just vomiting every so often.”
In the corner of the bar, Xie Jia Hua found Lu Guang Ming sprawled on the sofa, drunk beyond saving. The young Investigator lay on his back, eyes open, calmly staring at the ceiling. His legs were neatly together, his fingers interlocked over his chest—an oddly quiet and composed drunken posture… if one ignored the unbearable stench and filth clinging to him.
Xie Jia Hua removed his coat and draped it over him, tugging twice but unable to pull him up—Lu Guang Ming’s eyes were unfocused, limbs stiff, his entire body like rotting wood. With a decisive bend and exertion, Xie Jia Hua simply lifted him horizontally into his arms and strode out of the bar.
The proprietor and bartender, who had been about to assist, stood dumbfounded. Only after Xie Jia Hua had carried him steadily out did the proprietor sigh in admiration, “As expected of an officer—what incredible arm strength…”
“Hey! The phone—and his bag!” the bartender cried, quickly grabbing the items Lu Guang Ming had left behind and chasing after them.
……
The car drove steadily past an office building of the ICAC in Kowloon. Xie Jia Hua cast it a fleeting glance while driving; a few offices were still lit, proof that the Commission, like the police, worked sleepless nights on investigations.
Yet the ICAC officer lying in his back seat was not fighting alongside his colleagues—he had instead gone alone to a bar to drink himself senseless.
Xie Jia Hua glanced at him through the rearview mirror. He lay there just as quietly, as though unconcerned with who might take him where.
He thought of the name saved in the phone: “0_TheFool.”
Back in his school days, he had dreamed of studying art and had some knowledge of Western tarot. The Fool was the English name of the “愚者” card. In common depictions, the Fool holds a rose in his left hand, symbolizing innocence and passion, and a staff with a bundle in his right, symbolizing strength and the burden of the journey. It is numbered 0 among the 22 Major Arcana—yet also 22 itself—representing both the beginning and the end, infinite possibilities.
—He could not understand what Lu Guang Ming had felt when saving his name like this. Perhaps he was overthinking it. Perhaps the man simply wanted to call him a fool.
……
The car finally stopped in the parking lot of Xie Jia Hua’s apartment building. The distance this time was longer; after some effort, he managed to hoist Lu Guang Ming onto his back. Giving him a shake, he asked, “Awake? Take your bag yourself.”
Lu Guang Ming opened his eyes and, indeed, weakly lifted a hand to take his briefcase. This freed Xie Jia Hua to lock the car door before supporting him firmly and walking toward the elevator.
He had thought that after resting a while, Lu Guang Ming might have sobered slightly. But as Lu Guang Ming held the briefcase, he suddenly wrapped both arms tightly around Xie Jia Hua’s chest.
“Dad… Mom…” he murmured softly. Warm droplets fell onto the back of Xie Jia Hua’s neck. Then he lowered his head, lightly kissing away his own tears, pressing against the sweat- and tear-damp skin as he whispered, “Brother Jia Qi…”
Xie Jia Hua did not stop. He walked forward steadily.
Ten minutes later, he set Lu Guang Ming down into his bathtub. Lu Guang Ming tossed aside the briefcase, but still refused to let go. Amid his clinging and interference, Xie Jia Hua stripped off his filthy clothes and turned on the showerhead to rinse him clean. Naked, Lu Guang Ming sat up and pressed against him, kissing his brows and eyes in a daze while murmuring, “Brother Jia Qi…”
Xie Jia Hua turned off the water, tilting his head slightly to avoid the kisses. Calmly, he said, “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” Lu Guang Ming’s eyes were brimming with moisture and desire as he tried to entangle himself again, but Xie Jia Hua seized his wrist.
“You are drunk. But you know who I am. Stop pretending.”
Lu Guang Ming froze for a moment. Then, after a brief pause, his eyes narrowed, and he smiled—a pair of crescent moons.
He had drunk through the entire night in a haze—drunk, then sober, then drunk again—until he no longer knew how drunk he truly was, nor when he was pretending and when he was genuine. The moment Xie Jia Hua appeared in the bar, he had already recognized him. Even as he called out “Brother Jia Qi,” he knew clearly that the one he was kissing was Xie Jia Hua. But those sorrows, those tears, that longing and confusion—were they all false?
He harbored resentment toward his superior, Chief Investigator Xu, but were the past three years of respect and obedience false? When the case finally saw a breakthrough, after long hesitation, he had still chosen to hand over the materials—was that utmost caution and trust false as well?
Chief Investigator Xu had been right to scold him—he was disappointing. All these years, he had hidden himself between truth and falsehood, trusting no one, pushing everyone away. Naturally, that would chill others’ hearts. But for him—how could he possibly judge what was real or false in others?
Orphaned young, he had suffered abuse at the hands of a caregiver in the welfare home, living through years of darkness until Tang Jia Qi, volunteering there, discovered the truth and reported it, rescuing him. These successive traumas had made him introverted, closed off, extreme. Like a hedgehog, he armored himself completely.
Aside from Tang Jia Qi, he had no friends, no family. Even toward Tang Jia Qi, he both yearned deeply and instinctively resisted—until the day Tang Jia Qi met with disaster…
From that moment on, he lost the ability to discern genuine affection.
Heaven had taken away the only person who truly cared for him. In this world, anyone else could have been an accomplice in his Brother Jia Qi’s death. On what grounds could he believe in anyone’s goodwill?
For a long time, he had even suspected Xie Jia Hua as one of the killers—that all his affection was merely a disguise for guilt. Until that drunken night, when Xie Jia Hua had cried out Tang Jia Qi’s name while taking him. Though his body ached, he had smiled in joy. Amid the relentless thrusts, he cupped Xie Jia Hua’s face, kissing away his tears—
Those tears were real. The pain wrapped around that heart… was the same as his own.
What an interesting man, Xie Jia Hua. A fool standing within arm’s reach of the true culprit, yet forever kept in the dark. A soul whose innocence had not been ground away, who had never stopped pursuing, who bore his burdens and walked on.
Even if this man despised and suspected him—what did it matter? Someone as false and fallen as himself was never worthy of being liked.
At this moment, sharing only the pleasure of the flesh was enough.
“Inspector Xie, you’re no fun at all,” he said, trying to reach out and tease Xie Jia Hua’s face again, though his wrist remained firmly held. Instead of anger, he chuckled. “We’ve already slept together several times—why act so reserved? Do you remember? The first time was because you were drunk… Now I’m drunk too—let’s do it again. We both get some pleasure—wouldn’t that be nice?”
Xie Jia Hua’s expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing.
Lu Guang Ming continued with a grin, “You don’t want to? Then how about I fuck you instead? Hey—back then with Brother Jia Qi, were you always the one on top? Didn’t he ever fuck you?”
Without a word, Xie Jia Hua turned on the showerhead and blasted the water straight onto his face!
Futile Devices Scans 
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