Xie Jia Hua parked his car across the street from a villa in Kowloon Tong. It was the busy morning rush hour, and the narrow lane was surprisingly quiet, with only a few people passing by. The villa owner had already left for work early, and in the small courtyard, a maid in her forties was busy hanging out laundry.
“Auntie Liang?” Xie Jia Hua called through the iron gate.
The maid looked up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her damp hand. “Young Master? Ah! It’s the Young Master! Old Liang! Old Liang, come out quickly! Come see who’s returned!”
She rushed forward and eagerly opened the gate, wiping her hands hard on her apron before grasping Xie Jia Hua’s outstretched hand. She cupped his hand in both of hers, rubbing it warmly. “Young Master’s hands are still so warm—healthy! Good, good!”
Another servant, also in his forties or fifties, hurried out from the villa, standing before Xie Jia Hua with a mix of joy and fluster. It was Xie Jia Hua who stepped forward first and embraced him tightly.
“Young Master! You haven’t come back for five years! You’ve grown thin—ah…”
“Don’t block the way—let the Young Master come inside and sit!” Auntie Liang pushed him aside.
“No need. I have some matters to ask you—here will do,” said Xie Jia Hua.
“Young Master, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you even in your own home?” Auntie Liang asked, her voice filled with concern. Uncle Liang chimed in, “Come on in, please. Ahem—your father isn’t around. If you keep standing here and the neighbors see, it won’t look good.”
Xie Jia Hua looked around and then followed them inside. The two old servants, who had been with his family for over twenty years, were so happy to see him that they started pouring tea and setting out fruit and pastries. Auntie Liang, who had watched him grow up and considered him like a son, held his hand and fussed over him with love.
“Are you still working at the Major Crimes Unit? Is it a busy time? No matter how busy, you have to eat well—you’ve gotten so thin… The Master never talks about you, but when I miss you, I look at your childhood photos…”
Uncle Liang gently nudged her, telling her not to mention the Master.
“It’s okay,” Xie Jia Hua said to them. “I’m not a child anymore. Back then, when I argued with Daddy, I was also at fault.”
“Ah, Young Master…” Auntie Liang asked softly, “Is there really no way for you and the Master to get back together? You… you still… still like…”
“I still like men,” Xie Jia Hua said.
Suddenly, both Uncle Liang and Auntie Liang fell silent, their faces awkward. Xie Jia Hua didn’t expect them to understand—if they had supported him back then, he wouldn’t have stayed away for five whole years.
Five years ago, he had been pursued by a colleague from the Forensic Division. He finally said no, but his father found out about their relationship and his feelings, and he was furious. He not only made that colleague go through an internal investigation—finding out he had tampered with evidence in a case to get a conviction, which led to his dismissal—but he also sent Xie Jia Hua abroad for more studies, no matter what cases he still had to handle. When he came back two years later, Xie Jia Hua used all his savings to buy a small apartment and never went back home again.
Uncle Liang and Auntie Liang weren’t very educated, simple, and a bit naive. Back then, under his Father’s orders, they kept him locked up for half a month, no matter how he begged. They even thought he was possessed, that his mind was sick—so much so that they looked for talismans to calm his soul, and even tried strange folk remedies to dig soil from graves on remote islands, brewing all sorts of strange concoctions for him to drink.
Xie Jia Hua couldn’t forgive them, but he also couldn’t bring himself to hate them—just like with his father. Even though they would never understand each other, and he had lacked maternal love since childhood and received little paternal affection from a father constantly away at work, he still had a measure of respect. In his heart, that man wasn’t a qualified father, but he was an outstanding servant of the people.
But then Lu Guang Ming appeared, and it started to shake up this long-held belief.
Breaking the awkward silence, he spoke plainly, “Uncle Liang, Auntie Liang—I’m wondering about something from ten years ago. Please think carefully. Back then, I had a friend named Jia Qi. We often went out together. I remember asking Uncle Liang to help choose a set of fishing gear, saying we would go fishing together.”
The two thought for a moment, then nodded. “We remember, we remember,” said Auntie Liang. “That fishing gear is still in the storeroom—I couldn’t bear to throw it away.”
“Did Jia Qi ever come to the house? Have you seen him?”
Auntie Liang shook her head. “No, Young Master—you never brought friends home. Don’t you remember? Many of your friends were artists… doing, doing art and such. The Master didn’t allow you to associate with them.”
“Uncle Liang—do you recall anything?”
Uncle Liang scratched his head. “Strange… I seem to remember something. That friend of yours… was he a bit shorter than you? Very fair-skinned, said he worked in clerical matters.”
“You’ve seen him?!”
“Let me think… He didn’t come with you—one night, he brought you back…”
Xie Jia Hua grabbed his arm. “Uncle Liang! This is important—tell me everything, from beginning to end.”
Uncle Liang thought for a long time. “I remember… that day was your birthday. You quarreled with the Master at dinner and stormed out. It must have been past one in the morning when you came back—it was pouring rain outside. He brought you home. Everyone else had gone to sleep—it was I who opened the door. I helped him carry you inside. You were drunk.”
Xie Jia Hua’s expression grew grave—he remembered at once!
His birthday was January 20th—the anniversary of his mother’s death. That night, after arguing with his father, he had left in anger and gone to the ICAC to find Tang Jia Qi, only to be told he was out. He had then gone alone to a bar to drink—the rest he could not recall. Most likely, Tang Jia Qi later came looking for him and brought him home.
“How long did he stay?” Xie Jia Hua asked.
“Not long,” Uncle Liang said, thinking hard. “The rain was heavy—you were both soaked. I asked him to stay in the guest room—he agreed at first. But after I settled you in, changed your clothes, wiped you down and such, he said he still had clerical work to do and couldn’t stay. I gave him an umbrella, and he left. The next morning, your Auntie Liang and I returned to our hometown to visit family—we forgot to tell you about it.”
Xie Jia Hua stood up and looked toward the guest room on the first floor. The villa had three levels—the first for servants’ quarters and guest rooms, the second for his father’s bedroom and study, the third for his own room.
If Tang Jia Qi had helped carry him upstairs that night, he would certainly have passed by the study near the second-floor landing. And if, while Uncle Liang was tending to him, Tang Jia Qi had slipped into the study…
Lost in thought, Xie Jia Hua strode quickly to the second floor and pushed at the study door—but it would not open.
“Ah… well…” Auntie Liang followed behind. “The Master has kept it locked these past years—no one is allowed in but him.”
Xie Jia Hua released his hand from the door, pondering for a moment before striding toward the third floor. “Are my things from back then still here?”
“They’re all here, all here,” Auntie Liang replied quickly. “The Master never goes upstairs—I’ve covered everything with cloth. When I have time, I go up to clean.”
Xie Jia Hua pushed open the door to his old room, searching through the bookshelf in the corner, then dragging several boxes out from beneath the bed. Catching sight of Uncle Liang and Madam Liang standing nervously at the doorway, he waved them away. “I’m looking for something—leave me alone for a while.”
“Yes, yes.”
Kneeling on the ground, coughing amid the dust, he searched for a long while before finally finding his diary from ten years ago, from shortly after he first joined the force. Back then, he had been rebellious and inattentive to work, treated as a wastrel by his superiors and denied involvement in major cases, assigned only to organize files.
The diary recorded many complaints—until he met Tang Jia Qi, after which the tone gradually became brighter, more lively.
The diary ended on February 18, 1983—two weeks after Tang Jia Qi’s disappearance, when his body was discovered in a freezer at a cold storage facility.
That day’s entry contained only four words:
“Jia Qi is gone.”
Suppressing the surge of emotion in his heart, his eyes aching, he flipped back through the pages. Reaching January, he suddenly saw an entry:
【Today discovered a case from four years ago—cause of death of a society boss is suspicious, yet many pages of the file are missing. Told Jia Qi; Jia Qi said it is suspicious, should analyze changes in society power structure.】
He snapped the diary shut!
Swiftly restoring the disordered room to its original state, he strode down the stairs in great haste.
“Uncle Liang, Madam Liang—thank you! I’m leaving—don’t tell Daddy I came back!”
Futile Devices Scans 
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