Futile Devices Scans

“Now,” he said calmly, “Tell me your plan.”

He Chu San opened his briefcase and took out a thick stack of data reports. Xie Ying Jie, meanwhile, hauled up a large fish that had been thrashing desperately, and with effortless ease tossed it into the nearby bucket. He wiped his hands with a towel and said flatly, “Put it away. Don’t show me those flashy, useless things. No empty talk. Tell me what you can do for me—and how you intend to do it.”

He Chu San quietly stuffed the documents back into his bag, swallowing the hour-long speech he had prepared.

“Have you heard of hedge funds?”

“I have.”

“At this time last year, international speculators used hedging strategies across the European markets to strike at the lira, the mark, and the pound. In September’s Black Wednesday, they shorted ten billion pounds, forcing a massive devaluation and driving Britain out of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism. In just a few weeks, they made seven billion US dollars. Have you heard of this?”

Xie Ying Jie’s chilling gaze settled upon him. He had already guessed what He Chu San was about to say.

“Would you be interested,” He Chu San said softly, “in playing such a game in Hong Kong?”

Xie Ying Jie’s expression did not change in the slightest. He examined him coldly. “Those so-called speculators wield hundreds of billions in capital—and they are seasoned international operators. What are you? What gives you the right to imitate them?”

“The ‘hedge ratio’ used in such operations is calculated through precise mathematical models. I understand the Hong Kong market intimately. I command the finest data analysis team in the territory. Each year, my team handles over a hundred million Hong Kong dollars in capital, with average annual returns exceeding forty percent. Hong Kong’s financial market is completely open and free—its linked exchange rate is highly transparent, with none of the protective mechanisms seen elsewhere. Interbank balances are low, usually between one and one and a half billion Hong Kong dollars. Retail investors are highly susceptible to herd mentality—rumors spread like wildfire…”

He leaned forward, his voice growing more fervent.

“All I need is to seize the right moment to ‘make the market’—to short futures, dump Hong Kong equities, and unleash waves of rumors through the media. I can shake the entire financial system of Hong Kong. Within two weeks, profits could even double!”

The more he spoke, the more heated he became—his eyes blazing with naked hunger for wealth and power.

Xie Ying Jie, however, merely turned his head and gazed back at the water, letting out a cold, contemptuous scoff.

“Heh. Childish nonsense. I wondered what you might say.”

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Two bodyguards burst out from the inner chamber, pinning He Chu San to his knees on either side! The wooden chair toppled over with a thud, crashing into the waterway.

Xie Ying Jie spoke indifferently, “Useless. Dispose of him.”

A chain as thick as a finger appeared in the guards’ hands, coiling around He Chu San’s throat in an instant!

“Shopkeeper!” He Chu San cried out hoarsely, clawing desperately at the chain. His face flushed deep red, his voice breaking from desperate shouts into ragged gasps. “Across the mountains, they are building the Qing Ma Bridge and a new airport! The Big Buddha has just been completed! And here—this place remains poor and broken, like the Gaau Lung Walled City, cast aside by the times… You have only one year left before retirement… If you do not gamble big before then—if you are cast aside by the times like this… can you accept it…?”

Xie Ying Jie did not move.

The struggle weakened. The voice faded.

Just as He Chu San’s strength was about to give out entirely, Xie Ying Jie lifted his hand slightly.

The chain loosened.

He Chu San collapsed to the ground, choking violently, his face mottled purple and red. Trembling, he crawled to the edge of the wooden platform and retched into the water below.

It felt as if he would vomit out his very stomach. His vision was pitch black for a long while before the faint shimmer of reflected light returned to the surface.

When he struggled to look again, the bodyguards had vanished. Xie Ying Jie still sat there, fishing in cold silence—

as though nothing had happened.

He Chu San wiped his mouth with his sleeve and knelt beside him in a disheveled state.

“How much do you need?” Xie Ying Jie asked.

He Chu San panted, breath uneven. “Of course… the more… the better…”

Having circled the gates of death, all fear had vanished from him. In his bloodshot eyes now burned something savage—like a beast of prey, filled with ruthless killing intent.

His flushed face twisted into a warped smile.

“When Chief Inspector Lei retired in ’73, it was said his fortune reached five hundred million Hong Kong dollars. Since you succeeded him and have ‘managed’ things for twenty years… taking out five hundred million US dollars—surely that is not too much?”

……

The wooden planks of the bridge creaked again beneath their steps. Smoke curled up from the shanties lining the waterway. The Old Shopkeeper’s proxy still walked ahead at an unhurried pace, with He Chu San following silently behind.

They spoke not a word.

At the pier, the proxy stopped. Before leaving, he glanced at the livid marks around He Chu San’s neck and the bloodshot veins in his eyes, and let out a low sigh.

“You are still so young.”

He Chu San said nothing. He slid his sunglasses onto his nose, his face expressionless, and brushed past him as he boarded the ferry.

……

By the time the sun dipped westward, he had returned to Hong Kong Island. Kevin waited at the Sheung Wan pier with two bodyguards.

Passengers disembarked in scattered groups. Kevin saw him last—stepping off the ferry alone. Though dusk had already fallen, he still wore his sunglasses. His tie hung loose around his neck instead of being properly fastened, barely concealing the marks beneath. His steps were slightly unsteady.

“Brother Chu San!” Kevin rushed forward to support him—but was pushed away.

“Don’t touch me,” He Chu San said hoarsely. “Let’s go.”

Kevin, tense with worry, guided him toward the parking lot. As they reached a quiet corner, He Chu San suddenly stopped.

“Across the street. That gray sedan behind the truck—when did it park there?”

Kevin frowned. “When I arrived, there were no cars here.”

He Chu San removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket. Without warning, he strode straight toward the car, yanked open the driver’s door, and dragged the driver out, smashing him to the ground with a vicious punch!

The front passenger leapt out, only to be subdued by Kevin and the bodyguards. He Chu San flung open the rear door, hauled the passenger out amid shrill screams, and slammed him to the ground—

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three brutal punches landed squarely on his face!

Then he tore off his tie and looped it around the man’s neck!

The advisor, who had followed Kevin here, was beaten until his face twisted, blood spilling from nose and mouth! Kevin saw his limbs stiffen as he struggled—the man was on the verge of dying!

“Mr. He!” Kevin shouted in alarm.

He Chu San heard nothing. His eyes burned red with bone-chilling cold, his breath coming like that of a possessed beast clawing its way out of his throat.

Kevin rushed forward and shouted into his ear, “Brother Chu San!!”

Suddenly—

He Chu San released his grip.

As though his soul had snapped back into place, he turned to look at Kevin, then down at his own bloodstained hands.

He staggered back a few steps, said nothing, and fled toward the parking lot in disarray.

Kevin gestured urgently for the bodyguards to follow, while he himself helped the coughing, half-conscious advisor up.

“Advisor, I am truly sorry. Mr. He is wholeheartedly working for Master Qiao and the Shopkeeper. Please—don’t push him to the edge.”

Having brought this upon himself, the advisor had now personally experienced Consultant He’s ruthless cruelty. Pale with lingering fear, he waved Kevin off weakly.

Kevin turned and ran.

Entering the parking lot, he saw several passersby staring in alarm at He Chu San—at his strange demeanor, at the marks around his neck. He hurried forward, removing his coat and draping it over He Chu San’s head and shoulders.

He Chu San trembled faintly all over. Without a word, he slipped into the car, leaning against the window, exhaling a long breath as though utterly drained.

“Mr. He…” Kevin said softly.

He Chu San kept his eyes shut. His voice was hoarse and cold—like something dredged up from an icy abyss.

“Don’t speak. I’m tired. Let’s go.”

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