The advisor pinched a sheet of documents between two fingers as he leapt out of the car, then hurried at a stumbling run into the villa of Master Qiao. Ignoring the greetings of bodyguards and servants alike, he huffed and puffed his way upstairs, his old limbs trembling with urgency, until he reached the bedroom door.
He knocked hastily. From within came Master Qiao’s languid voice, “Who is it?”
“Me!”
“Come in.”
The door swung open—and the moment he stepped inside, the advisor cried out, “Ai-ya!” and turned his head away at once.
Bodies sprawled across the bed in disarray. Master Qiao’s sagging belly pressed beneath a pale, naked backside—the sight was utterly indecent.
“Boss, how could you bring this kind of thing home?!” The advisor’s heart burned with bitterness.
The youthful and handsome Sammy clung to Master Qiao like a pale gecko. Compared to the coquettish and temperamental Lai San Mei, this one seemed almost pure and obedient. At once, he pulled the blanket over his head and shrank shyly into Master Qiao’s embrace.
Master Qiao, brimming with indulgent affection, patted his head through the blanket. “Speak. What is it?”
The advisor stood far away, disgust etched across his face, waving the documents in hand. With a sigh, Master Qiao patted Sammy and gestured for him to leave. “My dear old advisor, why are you always so jealous?”
“My Boss! Enough with your ‘dears’ and ‘treasures’—none of them are good people! Look at this!” The advisor thrust the papers before him. “This is the man who fought with your precious He Chu San at the charity banquet! He’s no freeloading nobody—he’s an agent of ICAC! That night, the two of them were whispering in a corner. The moment I approached, they started fighting. There’s definitely something wrong here!”
Master Qiao glanced over the document. Aside from the name and background, there was a photograph of Lu Guang Ming—young, handsome, crescent-shaped smiling eyes, even carrying a hint of sly charm.
“Tsk, what a pity…”
“That’s it?” he asked casually.
“Isn’t that serious enough?!”
“Oh, my dear advisor…” Master Qiao slung an arm around him. “Can your aging heart take a rest? Stop seeing ghosts everywhere. What you can think of, do you think Consultant He cannot? He already uncovered this man’s identity. The night before last, he quietly…”
He made a slicing gesture across his throat.
“He told you that?” The advisor frowned. “He dared to kill an ICAC officer?”
“Kill is kill. This ICAC brat had to die. He uncovered our past dealings—those red envelopes we gave to the inspectors—and started digging into Consultant He’s accounts. If he kept digging, he might have reached the Old Shopkeeper.”
“Did you see him kill with your own eyes?” The advisor remained unconvinced.
“Yesterday, Kevin brought me a photo of the corpse.”
“Where is the photo?”
“Burned on the spot. Why keep it? So the police can find it?”
The advisor’s wrinkled face tightened. The more he thought, the more something felt amiss.
If He Chu San was truly so ruthless and meticulous, why had he spared Xia Liu Yi back then—only to be stabbed twice himself? Could it be that these cut-sleeve fellows were all like Boss Qiao, easily bewitched by a man’s beauty? And that Kevin… clearly he too had fallen under He Chu San’s spell. Where did his loyalties truly lie?
Irritated, Master Qiao drove him out.
The advisor slumped into the car, dispirited. The rain had only just cleared after several days, and the season stood at the cusp of spring and summer, bathed in radiant sunlight—yet his heart remained heavy and clouded.
…
At the same time, dressed in a black suit and wearing dark glasses, He Chu San stepped off a ferry at the pier of Tai O Island.
The proxy of the Old Shopkeeper awaited him alone. Unlike his refined bearing in the underground teahouse, today he wore plain cloth garments, blending seamlessly with the island’s inhabitants.
The thick scent of the sea struck them head-on. One walked ahead, the other behind, crossing a weathered wooden bridge that creaked beneath their feet. On both sides of the narrow waterways stood layers of old stilt houses—wooden structures raised upon rotting pillars sunk into the water. Some roofs were patched with canvas, others with planks, painted in mismatched hues. The entire place looked impoverished, chaotic, and worn by time.
Not a single young person could be seen. A few elderly women washed clothes in seawater, while racks nearby hung with drying salted fish. The scene was quiet—yet desolate.
The proxy led He Chu San through winding alleys deep into the fishing village, stopping before a small shack no different from the others.
He Chu San noticed at once the men standing before and behind the house—dressed as villagers, yet with the build of trained guards. His heart tightened. This was the place.
After a thorough search, they allowed him entry.
Inside, he glanced at the outer hall—an incense burner stood upon an altar, where a black-and-white photograph of a woman could barely be discerned through the drifting smoke.
Passing the altar and an empty inner room, he stepped onto a wooden platform facing the sea.
There sat a plainly dressed man, back turned, fishing with quiet focus.
Hearing his approach, the man spoke—his voice calm, yet commanding. “Sit.”
He Chu San took the seat beside him.
“Have you been here before?”
“No.”
The man stared at the fishing float upon the water, his profile carved sharp as blade and axe.
“This place was once called Dan Jia Village. The people here were known as Dan People. During the wars of the forties, refugees fled here—homeless, with nowhere to go. They lived upon the water, in boats. I was born on one such broken vessel. From childhood, I dreamed only of leaving this place.”
“At fourteen, I took a small wooden boat and tried to row from here to Hong Kong Island. I rowed for a long, long time—from day into night. In the darkness, I lost all sense of direction. There was nothing but endless black sea. I could only keep rowing—either I would reach land, or die in the ocean.”
“I rowed for two days and two nights. On the third morning, the boat began to leak and sank. I swam with all my strength… and in the end, I reached Hong Kong Island.”
He finished speaking, then turned to look at He Chu San.
A chill ran through He Chu San’s body like a bolt of lightning.
In that gaze, he sensed the killing intent of a tiger—bloodthirsty, merciless. Those eyes had feasted upon flesh and torn through human hearts. No mere proxy could feign such presence.
And he recognized him clearly—
The highest-ranking Chinese officer in the police force, the Deputy Commissioner—
Xie Ying Jie.
Xie Ying Jie saw the shock and fear in his eyes.
“Can you swim?”
“No.”
“If the boat sinks, what will you do?”
He Chu San met his gaze steadily.
“Since I have boarded your boat, I know it will not sink.”
Xie Ying Jie turned back toward the trembling float upon the water and let out a low chuckle.
“Heh… a young man who knows not the height of heaven nor the breadth of sea.”
With a sudden motion, he jerked the fishing rod upward—
A great fish burst from the water, thrashing wildly in the air!
“Now,” he said calmly,
“Tell me your plan.”
Futile Devices Scans 
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