Lu Guang Ming brought a bouquet of carnations and a bouquet of white roses to the cemetery. Tang Jia Qi and his parents happened to be buried in the same mountainside burial ground. At the joint grave of his parents halfway up the hill, he placed the carnations, then continued to the summit, where he laid the white roses before Tang Jia Qi’s grave.
It had rained heavily the entire day. The rainwater nearly submerged the rose petals in an instant. Flowing streams trickled over the pale names etched into the tombstone—ten years of time had passed just like this.
Before long, He Chu San, dressed in solemn black, also arrived at the grave and placed a white chrysanthemum. He glanced at the roses beside it and immediately understood Lu Guang Ming’s feelings for Tang Jia Qi. When he looked at Lu Guang Ming again, there was an added trace of sympathy—and resolve—in his gaze.
Rain hammered down upon their umbrellas. The umbrellas and the roadside trees swayed violently under the storm, yet the two of them stood upright like steadfast pines.
Amid the roar of the rain, Lu Guang Ming spoke first.
“You’ve made contact with the Old Shopkeeper?”
“Not yet. Almost.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“I need to borrow something from you.”
“What?”
“Your life.”
Lu Guang Ming laughed. “Sure. As long as it helps avenge my parents and Brother Jia Qi, take it.”
……
Naturally, He Chu San did not truly intend to take his life. Under the cover of the storm, he explained his plan—Lu Guang Ming’s identity had already drawn the attention of Master Qiao, and perhaps had long been noticed by the Old Shopkeeper as well. Without the price of blood, it would be impossible to deceive such a ruthless killer. Therefore, Lu Guang Ming had to fake his death, as the final step in gaining the Old Shopkeeper’s trust.
Lu Guang Ming agreed to the plan in full and showed no fear of the dangers involved.
He Chu San brought a pile of blood-soaked props—leftover, according to him, from the film company Xia Liu Yi once ran in Gaau Lung Walled City. He applied a “corpse makeup” to Lu Guang Ming, pasted on fake wounds, and smeared him with blood. The craftsmanship was crude, but under a stormy night and dim lighting, it would be convincing enough.
He then carefully strapped Lu Guang Ming in layers of bulletproof vests and protective arm and leg guards, tightening them until he could barely breathe. His face turned deathly pale, making him look even more like a corpse. After that, he wrapped blood packs all over him and finally dressed him in a blood-soaked outer garment, then stuffed him into a thick sack in the trunk of a car.
In the corner of the trunk, He Chu San hid a pistol. “These are blank rounds. If we act well tonight, I’ll shoot you. If we mess up, I’ll shoot him. Even with blanks, it’ll be enough to scare them—and give us a chance to jump into the sea and escape.”
“And this?” Lu Guang Ming squeezed his arm, noticing it seemed thicker. Lifting the sleeve, he saw a layer of waterproof padding forming fake muscles.
“Convincing, right? Custom-made,” He Chu San said proudly, even turning around to show his back. “I stuffed it there too. I picked a stormy night on purpose—when the clothes get soaked, these ‘muscles’ will show through. Let him see how strong and intimidating I am, so he won’t examine you too closely.”
“……”
“What’s wrong?”
“Actor He, could you maybe tell me the script beforehand? I’m afraid I’ll burst out laughing.”
He Chu San proceeded to explain the plan. Lu Guang Ming laughed until he could barely breathe. “How did you even come up with this? Can you really act? Why didn’t you become an actor?”
“Actors earn too little.”
“Not really—those award-winning actors earn plenty… oh, right, not as much as you. You’re the boss’s man, after all.”
After rehearsing, He Chu San checked the time and prepared to close the trunk. Suddenly, Lu Guang Ming raised a hand to stop him.
“What is it?”
“If—just if—something happens to me… could you pass a message to Xie Jia Hua?”
“Xie Jia Hua?” He Chu San was momentarily puzzled. “What message?”
Lu Guang Ming thought for a long time, yet could not say a single word. In the end, he sighed. “Forget it. Some things are better left unsaid. Just… thank him for me.”
……
He Chu San arranged to meet the Old Shopkeeper’s proxy at the Kwai Chung container terminal—both to heighten the atmosphere of terror, and for convenience in disposing of the “body” and escaping.
Before the act began, lying inside the sack, Lu Guang Ming imagined countless tragic partings—even a scene where Xie Jia Hua stood cold-faced before his grave saying, “Although I could never love you, I wish you were still alive.” He mentally cursed that bastard Xie countless times.
But once the operation began, he was too tense to think of anything romantic. He was so nervous he nearly lost control of his bladder, focusing entirely on not laughing—because He Chu San’s acting was far too serious, far too unhinged.
Especially when He Chu San fired three shots at him, then approached with a twisted expression to tie the sack—Lu Guang Ming squinted through the darkness and saw how flawless the performance was. Even the veins on He Chu San’s forehead stood out convincingly. Rain soaked his clothes, revealing the “powerful muscles” beneath—intimidating enough to fool anyone.
Lu Guang Ming held it in until he was thrown into the water. Midair, he let out three muffled laughs—then plunged beneath the surface.
Cold seawater swallowed his laughter instantly. He gulped a mouthful of salty water and struggled to hold his breath. His ears roared; he could not hear anything around him. The three blank shots had struck his chest through the armor—non-lethal, but still enough to bruise cartilage at such close range. Pain and the crushing pressure of the water made panic rise within him.
He had claimed not to fear death—but when death loomed close, fear still came.
As he sank, he thought of regrets. Beyond vengeance, he suddenly wished to hold Xie Jia Hua once more.
To say “I like you” would be too ironic. To ask “Can I be your boyfriend?” too unrealistic. Though he had clung stubbornly to Xie Jia Hua, he had never truly expected anything between them.
He simply could not forget the warmth of that embrace.
Before going to reunite with his parents and Brother Jia Qi in the afterlife, that warmth remained his final regret.
He wanted to hold him once more. Tightly.
That bittersweet reverie ended abruptly—the sack was cut open from outside. An oxygen mask was pressed onto his face, the ropes binding his wrists and ankles were severed. After struggling, he was pushed to the surface by Kevin, dressed as a diver.
They climbed onto a nearby boat, discarded their gear, and rowed frantically through the storm.
Half an hour later, they finally reached another pier.
The moment they landed, Lu Guang Ming collapsed to the ground, utterly exhausted, aching all over, unable even to move his fingers. Kevin fared slightly better, stumbling off to bring a car and urging him inside.
Lu Guang Ming barely managed to crawl into the back seat, limp as mud, soaked in sweat, blood, seawater, and grime.
He vaguely heard the engine start and murmured weakly, “K… Kevin…”
“I’m here, Mr. Lu. Are you alright?”
“Where… are we going?”
“Mr. He has arranged a safe house. You’ll stay there for a while.”
Lu Guang Ming curled up, his voice trembling. “It hurts… so cold… that bastard A’San… one shot wasn’t enough… he shot me three times… I’m not going to the safe house… I want Big Sweet Potato…”
“Sweet potato?” Kevin asked, confused. “You want roasted sweet potato? There’s only dry rations at the safe house—I can bring you some later.”
“Not that… Sweet Potato… I have somewhere… safer… take me there…”
Elio’s Notes: We changed Yam to Sweet Potato. I honestly thought they were the same thing! (^O^)
Too weak to explain further, he gave Xie Jia Hua’s address, then curled up clutching his aching chest.
……
After some time, Kevin shook him awake.
“Mr. Lu?”
“…Have we arrived?”
“Which floor? I can take you up.”
“No… if someone sees. You go.”
After sending Kevin away, Lu Guang Ming covered his head with his soaked coat, slipped past the dozing security guard, and entered Xie Jia Hua’s luxury apartment building.
Avoiding cameras, he staggered up the stairs, nearly crawling by the time he reached the sixth floor. Like a seal dragging itself forward, he reached the door, too weak to knock—only able to lie there and think:
Sweet Potato… open the door… I know you’re home…
Thinking did nothing.
After half an hour, he gathered enough strength to knock—only to realize no one was home. He pulled out a lock-picking tool from his keychain and, trembling, forced the door open.
The room was dark. He crawled to the sofa, rested briefly, then noticed the window had been left open. The draft cut through the apartment, chilling him to the bone.
Cursing Xie Jia Hua under his breath, he staggered to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.
Breathing in deeply, he caught the faint scent of Xie Jia Hua on the pillow.
Curling into the blanket, he finally sank into a deep sleep.
Futile Devices Scans 
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