Futile Devices Scans

“Tell me your plan.”

He Chu San opened his briefcase and took out a thick stack of data and reports. Xie Ying Jie seized the desperately struggling fish and effortlessly threw it into the bucket beside him, then wiped his hands with a towel. “Put that away. Don’t show me a pile of fancy nonsense. Don’t waste words. Tell me what you can do for me and how you plan to do it.”

He Chu San stuffed the information back into the briefcase and swallowed the one or two hours of prepared explanation along with it.

“Have you heard of hedge funds?”

“Yes.”

“Around this time last year, international speculators used hedging strategies in the European markets to attack the lira, the Deutsche Mark, and the pound sterling in succession. On Black Wednesday in September, they ultimately shorted ten billion pounds, forcing sterling into a major devaluation and out of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism (ERM). Within a few weeks, the speculators made seven billion US dollars from it. Have you heard about that?”

Xie Ying Jie’s chilling gaze fell on him. He had already guessed what He Chu San intended to say.

“Would you be interested in playing a round in Hong Kong?”

Xie Ying Jie’s expression did not shift in the slightest. He examined him coldly. “Those speculators you’re talking about had tens of billions of US dollars behind them, and they were all veteran international market operators. What the hell are you? What makes you think you’re qualified to play their game?”

“The hedge ratio used in a hedge can be calculated precisely through mathematical models. I know the Hong Kong market. I have the best data-analysis team in Hong Kong. My team handles more than a hundred million Hong Kong dollars in trading every year, with average annual profits above forty percent. Hong Kong’s financial market is completely free and open. The Linked Exchange Rate System is highly transparent, and unlike other regions there are few protective measures. The banking system’s Aggregate Balance is very small, usually only one to one and a half billion Hong Kong dollars. Retail investors have an intense herd mentality, so rumors are extremely effective at stirring them up… I only need to choose the right moment to manipulate the market, short futures and Hong Kong stocks, and use the media to spread rumors on a massive scale. I can shake the entire Hong Kong financial market! Within two weeks, the profit could even double!”

Elio’s Notes: The story explicitly states that He Chu San’s financial attack is fictional. This is set in 1993; the author modeled their strategy on tactics associated with Hong Kong’s 1998 financial turmoil, imagining that He Chu San devised a similar plan five years early after studying the 1992 Black Wednesday crisis. The financial scale and details are deliberately fictionalized. The author also asks readers knowledgeable about economics and finance not to scrutinize this fictional scenario too closely, and credits material and figures drawn from 叶永刚 and 何国华’s 《香港金融保卫战》 and a 1998 《香港经济导报》 article titled 《曾荫权在立法会上谈政府的入市措施》.

The more He Chu San spoke, the more heated he became, his eyes blazing with obsessive desire for wealth and power. Xie Ying Jie, however, simply turned back toward the sea and gave a cold scoff. “Heh. Naive, laughable ravings. I thought you might actually have something worthwhile to say.”

He snapped his fingers. Two bodyguards burst from the inner room and forced He Chu San to his knees, one on either side. His wooden chair overturned and fell into the water with a splash!

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

A chain as thick as a finger appeared in the guards’ hands and wrapped around He Chu San’s throat in the blink of an eye.

“Shopkeeper!” He Chu San cried out. Both hands desperately clawed at the chain. His face rapidly turned red and purple, his hoarse shout weakening into broken breaths. “The Tsing Ma Bridge and the new airport are being built on the other side of the mountain! The Tian Tan Buddha has only just been topped out! But this place is still poor and crumbling, being discarded by the times just like Kau Lung Walled City… You only have one year before retirement. If you don’t play one big game before you retire, and simply let the times throw you away like this… can you really accept that…?”

Xie Ying Jie continued staring at the water without the slightest reaction. He Chu San’s voice disappeared completely and his struggling gradually weakened. Xie Ying Jie suddenly raised one hand. The bodyguards loosened the chain. He Chu San collapsed onto the wooden platform, his face dark red and purple as he coughed violently. Trembling, he crawled to the edge and vomited repeatedly into the water.

He nearly vomited his entire stomach out. Only after a long while did faint reflections from the water begin appearing in his pitch-black vision. Struggling upright, he discovered that the bodyguards had already vanished from the platform. Xie Ying Jie still sat there coldly fishing as though nothing at all had happened.

He Chu San wiped his mouth with his sleeve and knelt awkwardly beside him.

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

He Chu San panted. “Hah! Obviously… hah… the more the better…” He had just made a trip around the edge of death, yet all his previous fear and tension had disappeared. A wolfish, tiger-like ruthlessness now burned in his bloodshot eyes. His face still flushed from strangulation, he twisted his mouth into a distorted smile. “When ‘Chief Inspector Lei’ retired in 1973, rumor said he was worth five hundred million Hong Kong dollars. The Shopkeeper has spent twenty years carefully ‘running his business’ since then. Five hundred million US dollars shouldn’t be asking too much, should it?”

Elio’s Notes: “Chief Inspector Lei” is a nod to the Hong Kong crime film Lee Rock (《五亿探长雷洛传》). The author expressly clarifies that this film homage is not intended to refer to any real person.

…

The wooden bridge once again trembled beneath creak, creak footsteps. Wisps of cooking smoke rose behind the stilt houses lining both sides of the waterway. The Old Shopkeeper’s proxy continued leading the way at an unhurried pace, He Chu San following behind him in silence.

The proxy escorted He Chu San back to the pier. Before they separated, he looked at the strangulation marks around He Chu San’s neck and the bloodshot veins in his eyes, then suddenly sighed. “You’re still so young.”

He Chu San did not answer. He settled his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose and walked past the man with a cold expression, boarding the ferry.

…

By the time the sun was slanting westward, he had returned to Hong Kong Island. Kevin and two bodyguards were waiting for him at the Sheung Wan pier. Passengers came off the ferry in scattered groups. Kevin watched He Chu San emerge last. The sky had already grown dim, yet sunglasses still covered his face. His tie had not been knotted and instead hung loosely around his neck, concealing it. His steps were slightly unsteady.

“Brother Chu San!” Kevin rushed forward to support him, only to be pushed away.

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

Kevin anxiously led him toward the parking lot. When they reached a corner with few pedestrians, He Chu San suddenly stopped. “Across the street. That gray sedan hidden behind the truck. When did it park there?”

Kevin also found the car vaguely familiar. Suspiciously, he said, “It wasn’t there when I arrived.”

He Chu San removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket. Then he abruptly strode straight toward the sedan, yanked open the driver’s door, dragged the driver out, and punched him violently to the ground. Another man rushed from the front passenger seat, only to be pinned down by Kevin and the two bodyguards running up behind him. He Chu San tore open the rear door. Amid the passenger’s terrified scream, he dragged the man out, slammed him onto the pavement, and punched him square in the face three times. Thud! Thud! Thud! Then He Chu San ripped the tie from his own neck and looped it around the man’s throat.

The adviser, who had followed Kevin there, had been beaten until his face was crooked and his nose swollen, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Kevin watched in horror as the adviser’s face turned scarlet and his stiff legs kicked desperately. He was clearly about to die. “Mr. He!” Kevin cried.

He Chu San did not seem to hear him. His blood-red eyes carried a bone-chilling coldness. Like a man possessed by an evil spirit, he released savage, animalistic breaths from deep in his throat. Kevin rushed forward and shouted directly into his ear, “Brother Chu San!!”

He Chu San abruptly let go. It was as though his soul suddenly returned to his body. He turned to look at Kevin, then lowered his eyes to his own bloodstained hands. He got to his feet and stumbled backward several steps without saying a word, then hurried unsteadily toward the parking lot.

Kevin motioned for the two bodyguards to follow him immediately, then helped the adviser upright as the man coughed violently. “Adviser, I’m terribly sorry. Mr. He truly is wholeheartedly working for Master Qiao and the Shopkeeper. Please—don’t push him too far.”

The adviser had brought this on himself and had now personally experienced Consultant He’s ruthlessness. Still frightened, he waved weakly at Kevin, telling him to get lost.

Kevin turned and ran. He caught up inside the parking lot and saw several passersby who had come to collect their cars pointing at He Chu San, frightened by his strange appearance and the strangulation marks around his neck. Kevin hurried forward, took off his own jacket, and draped it over He Chu San’s head and shoulders. He Chu San’s entire body was trembling faintly. Without saying a word, he climbed into the car and leaned tightly against the window, breathing out like someone completely drained of strength.

“Mr. He…” Kevin said worriedly.

He Chu San kept his eyes tightly closed. His voice was hoarse and cold, as though someone had just dragged him from an ice pit. “Don’t talk. I’m tired. Let’s go back.”