There was a small night market near the construction site. Stretching no more than about three hundred meters along the street, it had everything—food, clothing, entertainment—covering all needs.
When hot oil was poured over the beef offal noodles, it sizzled, releasing a rich and heavy aroma. Zhang Chi snapped apart a pair of disposable chopsticks, scraped off the splinters against each other, squatted down, and picked up a mouthful of noodles.
He ate with focus, not paying much attention to the bustle. Only when drinking water would he casually pick up a bit of entertainment. Each time, his gaze would lightly sweep over the table in the corner, then return to his own bowl of noodles.
After finishing the noodles, he paid and wandered through the night market, strolling and stopping at will. He looked over the dazzling array of small trinkets one by one, but forgot which stall he had left his water bottle at. Turning back in a hurry, he ran into three men a few meters behind him. Being anxious, Zhang Chi only gave them a brief glance, not noticing the instant shock and panic that flashed in their eyes.
After retrieving the water bottle, he held it in his hand and stood in front of a bank. This was the only bank within several kilometers, equipped with an ATM that allowed withdrawals 24 hours a day.
He pushed the door open and entered a private booth, but didn’t walk toward the ATM. By the door stood a pink metal box, with the words “Free Condom Distribution Machine” printed on it.
Zhang Chi took out his ID card and tapped it on the designated area. With a beep, a box of condoms dropped into the collection slot.
The condoms could only be collected once per month. There were five inside. Zhang Chi hadn’t been at the construction site for long and had only collected them once before—all of which had been used on the man he brought back earlier from Bar Street.
It wasn’t because he was especially capable. After tearing open the first one, he accidentally dropped it on the ground. The second one felt uncomfortable after putting it on. The third was still the same. It wasn’t until the fourth that he realized the size was too small, not matching his own equipment.
Awkwardly, he made do and did it twice. The man he had brought back kept coming up with new ways to curse. While doing it, Zhang Chi couldn’t help but think—how had he, in a moment of madness, brought this person back in the first place?
The night breeze that evening was somewhat cool. Following advice from the internet, Zhang Chi found a gay bar in the city. He stood at the entrance, observed the surroundings, and habitually went to confirm the location of the back door.
Turning into the narrow alley beside it, the lighting dimmed. The streetlights couldn’t reach deep into the alley. At first, his shadow stretched long in front of him, but later it grew so dark that even his shadow disappeared.
There’s someone.
Even though he couldn’t see clearly, Zhang Chi still keenly sensed that someone was ahead. He slowed his steps and continued forward.
It was a drunk man. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, head drooping. It was clear he was thin, taking up barely any space.
The alley wasn’t wide. Zhang Chi stepped over his legs. After confirming the position of the back door, he turned back. As he stepped over the man again, a cold hand suddenly pressed against the outside of his thigh!
Fingers hooked into his pants, and Zhang Chi was suddenly grabbed by the drunk man.
“Take me away,” the man said, his voice somewhat weak.
Zhang Chi hesitated. “I still have things to do.”
He replied calmly, lifting his strong leg and breaking free. “Find someone else to help you.”
But the next moment, his long leg was hugged again by both of the drunk man’s hands. The sensitive flesh at the inner root of his thigh was tightly gripped. Zhang Chi stiffened, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Take me away, I’m begging you,” the man said.
A burning sensation spread at the root of his thigh. Zhang Chi reached down to push away those hands, but instead, his hand was grabbed in return.
“You can have anything you want,” the drunk man said, his voice trembling slightly.
The delicate texture of his palm distracted Zhang Chi slightly. Wanting to quickly get rid of this troublesome man, he spoke frankly: “I came here to find someone to sleep with.”
“Okay,” the man replied without hesitation. He lifted his head and assured again, “I can.”
“…Are you out here… selling?”
A soft and slow “Mm” rippled through Zhang Chi’s heart.
He slowly crouched down in front of the man. His hand slipped under the hem of the man’s clothes, touching that warm stretch of waist.
Very thin and narrow, yet resilient. The skin was smooth. As he leaned in slightly, a trace of perfume slipped into his nose: “My place is a bit far, and the conditions are average.”
His hand applied pressure, kneading the flesh there until it began to heat up: “Is that okay?”
The man let out a few muffled sounds, then suddenly grabbed Zhang Chi’s collar. His body tipped forward, his chin resting on the shoulder, fierce like a cat: “Stop yapping, take me away.”
Later, Zhang Chi did feel a bit of regret.
It was his first time. He wasn’t asking for someone heavenly, but at least they should be easy on the eyes. Yet the man he brought out of the alley had a face bruised black and blue, covering most of his skin. Aside from knowing his skin was quite fair, his jaw slim, and his eyelashes thick, no one could tell what he actually looked like.
All the way back, he considered just dumping him, but in the end, that base instinct—like a dog marking its territory—won out. Zhang Chi gritted his teeth, shut his eyes, and accepted it.
Fortunately, he had a good ass—firm, perky, and round.
Pulling his thoughts back, Zhang Chi put the condoms into his pocket, pushed open the bank door, and swept a sharp glance toward the tree shadows by the roadside before stepping toward the construction site.
Leaving the market, the road became desolate, half-covered by moonlight, the wind stilled and trees quiet.
A rustling of footsteps came from behind. Zhang Chi flicked his arm downward, and a switchblade suddenly dropped into his hand…
The mountain wind at night rushed in through the open window, swirling wildly around the nearly naked man, ruthlessly stripping away what little warmth remained on his body.
The man’s hands were bound behind his back. He wore only a pair of shorts and was being forced to kneel halfway on the ground. His head was lowered, his gaze sweeping darkly, his expression still relatively calm.
Suddenly, the villa’s main door burst open. A gust of cold wind entered first, forming a draft with the open window. The curtain weights clattered noisily, and goosebumps rose on the nearly naked man’s skin.
The one who entered was a tall, slender man. Behind him followed two lackeys, both with unfriendly faces.
“Caught him?” There was hatred in his voice. In just a few steps, he rushed in front of the kneeling man and lifted his leg, kicking him over.
“You damn faggot, I told you sooner or later I’d kill you!”
The man on the ground was large, with broad shoulders and a thick back, his muscles solid. Even bound, he didn’t appear at a disadvantage. The coarse rope tightened around him, his chest muscles swelling, instead giving off a kind of violent aesthetic.
He lifted his head, looking at the man towering above him, eyes blazing with anger. A hint of confusion appeared in his eyes: “…Are you the two hundred yuan?”
Two. Hundred. Yuan.
Xue Bao Tian recalled the 200 yuan slapped against the side of his face, and that sentence: “Can’t give you more, you’re not that good-looking.”
“Fuck your mother! Looks like you don’t want to live anymore!”
Xue Bao Tian lifted his leg again, his heavy leather boot raised high. It should have been a heavy blow, but unexpectedly, the half-prone man nimbly dodged. Xue Bao Tian’s kick hit nothing, nearly making him stumble.
Using too much force, his sole hit the ground, sending a numbness through half his leg. Limping in fury, Xue Bao Tian pointed at the black-clad bodyguards standing beside the man: “What the hell did I hire you for? Are you all fucking useless? Hold him down for me!”
The man on the ground was restrained by several people at once, leaving him nowhere to dodge, and he took more than a dozen solid kicks from Xue Bao Tian.
After being kicked around, the man spat out a mouthful of blood. Looking up at Xue Bao Tian—whose face was grim and vicious, breathing heavily—he spoke in an unexpectedly calm tone, trying to reason: “That incident last time wasn’t entirely my fault. Besides, I already apologized, and I even gave you money. You were the one who didn’t want it.”
At the mention of money, Xue Bao Tian flared up again, cursing as he looked around for something handy.
The man didn’t want to suffer more physical pain, so he quickened his speech to explain: “Besides, those injuries you got from being beaten, I was the one who treated them, and afterward too. Didn’t we agree to let this matter go? Why are you settling scores after the fact?”
Xue Bao Tian’s teeth were practically grinding to dust. Half a month ago, that evening, he had first been beaten for no reason, then picked up by this man. Afterward, he wasn’t even allowed to curse, and was threatened that every curse would earn him another round. He had been holding it in like a balloon about to burst, and with his whole body covered in injuries, he couldn’t even move a step from the pain.
The man had left midway, bought two tubes of ointment and a few packs of instant noodles, cooking noodles on a small electric stove while applying medicine to his bruises.
Xue Bao Tian had always had well-kept skin, a pampered young master. The ointment was cool, temporarily easing the pain. So although he resisted, it wasn’t much; after some pushing and shoving, he went along with it.
“The worst pain was fucking back there! Are you a damn donkey? Didn’t you think about your size before… that? In ancient times, reporting you to the authorities would’ve gotten you drowned. Even now you deserve chemical castration!”
“You still want to call the police?” The man’s hand paused at the back of Xue Bao Tian’s neck, resting there lightly, neither heavy nor light, yet making one uneasy.
Xue Bao Tian opened his mouth several times, but in the end, he backed down. A wise man doesn’t suffer immediate losses—just wait, I’ll deal with you later!
The sound of a cap being twisted open came from behind. The man seemed to have switched ointments. A cool sensation came from behind. Xue Bao Tian suddenly stiffened, his back going rigid!
“What are you doing?” His voice changed pitch. Struggling, he turned his head to look back, asking with a tremble.
“Applying medicine for you. Didn’t you say it hurts?”
“I’ll do it myself—no, no, I won’t use it! Take it away right now!”
The man thought he was just being temperamental, turned away and ignored him, squatting by the small stove to focus on cooking noodles.
Xue Bao Tian called his trusted subordinate to come pick him up. When he hung up, the noodles were ready, and the young man sat on a small stool, eating with his head lowered.
The fragrance of noodles filled the cramped room.
Xue Bao Tian’s stomach growled, aching badly. He had drunk a lot of alcohol, been beaten, and then… that had happened. By now his stomach was completely empty, craving even a little warm food.
“Want a bowl?” the man asked without lifting his head.
“Who the hell eats this garbage food,” Xue Bao Tian turned his face away resentfully.
Five minutes later, amid the room full of noodle fragrance, he turned his face back: “Well… I’ll just have some soup.”
This was the memory Xue Bao Tian most wanted to erase—both cowardly and pathetic. Countless times in the middle of the night, he would regretfully want to slap himself hard across the face!
After making a round inside the villa, he found a glass ashtray. Hooking it on his fingertips, he paced back to the man and slowly crouched down.
The man lifted his eyes, carefully examining Xue Bao Tian before saying, “So this is what you actually look like.”
Xue Bao Tian thought of how he had looked half a month ago—bruised and battered—and immediately flew into a rage: “Fuck your damn uncle! I fucking—”
“Talk business first,” the man cut in right after. “Stop cursing so much.”
Xue Bao Tian suppressed his temper, grinding his teeth: “Fine. Zhang Chi, I’ll go along with you—let’s talk first.” He tapped the man’s cheek with the ashtray. “I’m a normal man, and I got… by you, a damn faggot. Tell me—how are we settling this score?”
Zhang Chi’s appearance was youthful, his features handsome, both tender yet masculine.
He thought for a moment, and when he spoke, there was even a hint of sincerity: “I’m gay, so I can’t really measure how much harm this caused you. If you truly can’t get over it, then follow your temper and beat me up.”
“Beat you up?” Xue Bao Tian sneered. “Of course I’ll beat you—but…” He leaned in slightly, close to the man’s ear, “I’ll also let you experience just how much damage this kind of thing does.”
He suddenly pulled back. Under Zhang Chi’s puzzled gaze, Xue Bao Tian raised his hand and slammed it down hard. The heavy glass ashtray smashed against the man’s head, splitting the skin, and warm blood streamed down!
The man let out a muffled groan, yet his spine remained straight, not even trembling.
Xue Bao Tian walked slowly to the sofa and sat down, crossing his legs. He lit a cigarette, and within the curling smoke, there was a malicious smile: “Pretty manly, huh? Keep it up. Don’t chicken out later.”
The flowing blood covered one of the man’s eyes. His brows furrowed slightly, and he asked in a low voice: “What else do you want to do?”
Xue Bao Tian glanced at the lackeys standing behind him, a bit impatient: “Are they not here yet?”
“They’re here, waiting outside.”
The corners of his lips lifted: “Then let them in.”
The villa’s main door opened again. This time, along with the mountain wind, several women entered, their skirts fluttering. In the cold weather, they exposed their pale thighs and chests. Under the harsh white light, their figures surged.
The heavily made-up women lined up. Xue Bao Tian swept his gaze over them and clicked his tongue: “What kind of picks are these? Didn’t I make myself clear on the phone?”
The lackey behind him hurried forward and explained: “These women were brought from three nightclubs. They’re really the oldest and ugliest ones.”
Young Master Xue curled his lips: “Damn, are nightclubs doing business this ethically now? Or are old and ugly women no longer allowed to fall into this line of work?”
He waved his hand, somewhat helpless: “Fine, this will do. Bring the money.”
Ten stacks of cash were neatly arranged. Xue Bao Tian, legs crossed, casually swung his expensive leather shoes.
With his gaze, he directed the women to look at Zhang Chi, who was kneeling on the ground: “As long as you serve him well today, this money will be yours.”
Zhang Chi: “!!!”
Futile Devices Scans 
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