Futile Devices Scans

The passenger-side door was pulled open, and Zhang Chi bent down and got in, carrying a chill with him.

Xue Bao Tian shivered, his face dark and frightening. “Did I say you could get in? Get out!”

Zhang Chi picked up the proposal from the center console. The crisp sound of pages turning accompanied his unhurried voice. “There are no buses now. Two Hundred, you have to take care of me.”

Xue Bao Tian was so angry he laughed. “What kind of relationship do we have that I have to take care of you?”

Zhang Chi flipped another page without even lifting his head. “One night as husband and wife.”

That line was like poking a hornet’s nest. The curse words reached Xue Bao Tian’s lips but were blocked by the proposal suddenly held up in front of him.

“What’s this character?” Zhang Chi asked.

Xue Bao Tian had never been one to swallow his curses, but faced with Zhang Chi’s look of admiration, his suppressed urge to show off knowledge took over.

He glanced at it. “Shan, as in medicinal cuisine. It means combining traditional Chinese medicine with certain ingredients, cooking them together into food. See what I wrote here? It uses medicine as food and food as medicine, helping prevent and treat illness and strengthen the body.”

Zhang Chi nodded, looking as if he understood. He reached out to ruffle Xue Bao Tian’s hair, his thumb brushing lightly across his forehead. “It’s written really well.”

Xue Bao Tian didn’t dodge much, a little pleased. “Really? Sigh… it’s just that no one reads it.”

“I want to read it—learn something. Is that okay?” Under the dome light, Zhang Chi looked especially sincere, a hint of admiration hidden in his deep eyes.

Xue Bao Tian felt flattered but put on a reluctant expression. “Wanting to improve is a good thing. Fine, I’ll lend it to you.”

“What if I don’t understand something?”

Xue Bao Tian perked up. “Ask me. I’ll answer everything.”

“Then don’t check out of the hotel,” Zhang Chi said calmly as he turned another page. “We’ll go there later, and you can explain it to me.”

Xue Bao Tian froze. Only then did he remember the suite he had booked half an hour ago for Zhang Chi and the second candidate.

“You said ‘see it through to the end’ back then,” Zhang Chi said, gently stroking the proposal. “You can still do that now.”

“Damn it.” Xue Bao Tian’s slowly spreading smile carried both irritation and menace. “Zhang Chi, the—the beads on your abacus—are clicking so loudly that the whole country can hear them.”

He snapped off the dome light, hiding his faint disappointment in the darkness. “I thought you actually wanted to read it.”

The soft rustle of paper sounded again. Zhang Chi slowly leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I do want to read it… and I really want you too.”

The air inside the car froze for a moment. His heartbeat faltered unexpectedly. Xue Bao Tian leaned back, suppressing the sudden unfamiliar feeling, and laughed. “Not bad, Zhang’er. You can even act all affectionate toward me. In the future, you’ll have your little lovers wrapped around your finger.”

Then his expression turned sharp again. “You think your Master Xue is easy to fool? Set a trap and I’ll just walk into it? Get out, get out, get out!”

Zhang Chi neither admitted nor denied it. After looking at Xue Bao Tian for a moment, he didn’t insist. “Then I’ll take it back and read it. If I don’t understand, I’ll call you.”

He opened the car door. The man and the cold wind switched places. Only when the cold air trapped inside the car slowly warmed, and that retreating figure was about to disappear from sight, did a curse sound from inside the car: “Damn it, I should find a girl.”

Pulling out his phone, Xue Bao Tian opened his WeChat contact groups. His thumb scrolled all the way down without finding anyone he liked. Among a bunch of sharp-chinned profile pictures, he randomly tapped one and sent a message.

Before the other person could reply, his phone rang. Seeing the name flashing on the screen, Xue Bao Tian’s lips curved into a smile. After picking up, his tone turned obedient. “Aunt Ping, why are you calling so late?”

Noisy shouting came through first, then Aunt Ping’s tearful voice: “Bao Tian, someone is causing trouble at the shop. They won’t let it go. I didn’t know what to do, so I called you.”

Xue Bao Tian’s expression darkened instantly. The car roared to life in a trembling surge, his voice carrying a cold edge: “I’m coming over right now. Tell Uncle Cheng not to fight them—let them make a scene. I’ll handle it when I get there.”

As the sports car sped past Zhang Chi, it kicked up a strong gust of wind, sending dust flying into the air. It had just begun to settle when the car suddenly reversed at high speed, stirring it up again.

The window rolled down, and Xue Bao Tian looked over. “Get in!”

Zhang Chi’s gaze swept across the man’s face through the air and dust. He then opened the door and got in. “What happened?”

The signboard of “Xiao Wei Skewers” flickered dimly, blinking on and off in the late night, looking bleak and desolate.

Xue Bao Tian found a rod in a corner, weighed it in his hand, and turned to push open the shop door. His wrist was lightly grabbed, and Zhang Chi’s voice sounded behind him: “With me here, Master Xue doesn’t need to act. Throw the rod away.”

There was nothing boastful or exaggerated in Zhang Chi’s tone—just plain certainty, like stating a simple fact. Xue Bao Tian gave him a cold glance for a few seconds before tossing the rod aside, dusting off his hands, and pushing the door open.

The moment he stepped inside, the hot, greasy air hit him, making it hard to breathe. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the chaotic scene.

The conveyor belt on the table moved slowly, but there was little food on it. Each heater held a personal hot pot, stuffed full with ingredients, crammed so tightly there was no space. Soaked and swollen from the boiling broth, everything looked bloated and unappetizing.

Around the table, seven or eight young men and women lounged about, in their twenties, with large, vicious-looking tattoos covering their exposed skin. They laughed and mocked the newcomers. “Old lady, these are the reinforcements you brought? Just two people? Here to entertain us?”

In a corner, Old Cheng and Aunt Ping stood together, angry yet helpless, shielding a young woman behind them. The woman shrank back, only peeking out when she heard someone enter. Seeing Xue Bao Tian, her eyes curved as she softly called, “Xiao Xue.”

Xue Bao Tian quickly walked over. His dark expression softened instantly when he faced her. “Zhou Zhou,” he called gently. He took out two pieces of mouth-freshening candy from a club and placed them in her hand, whispering, “Want to sit in my car? I changed the CD again—the music’s really good. Go listen.”

The woman, about his age and delicate-looking, popped the candy into her mouth and nodded with a small smile. Xue Bao Tian guided her out from behind Old Cheng and Aunt Ping, half-wrapping an arm around her to protect her as he escorted her toward the door.

The tattooed group immediately shouted, “Who said she could leave? Nobody in this room is allowed—”

Their harsh voices suddenly stopped. The tall man who had entered with him now stepped forward. He casually picked up a handful of wooden skewers from the table, spun them lightly between his fingers, and then, like wielding a knife, slammed the sharp ends hard into the tabletop.

Crack! The skewers snapped cleanly, splinters scattering across the table.

“No one’s allowed… to move… I’ll see who dares…” The group took a long moment to recover, trying to finish their threats, but their momentum had already collapsed, their voices fading almost to nothing.

Zhang Chi tossed the broken skewers into the trash. Looking at the group of young people around his age, he spoke calmly, like an elder offering advice. “If there’s an issue, say it. Don’t shout. Sit down and talk it out—things can be resolved.”

His tone wasn’t loud or harsh. The gentleness made it hard to believe the earlier display of force had come from him. The blond-haired leader spat and sneered, “Who the hell are you? Acting all tough like that?”

“Our pencil case has plenty inside—if not pens, what else should we put in it?” Xue Bao Tian said as he pushed the door open again, returning to Zhang Chi’s side. He leaned lazily against the wall. “What’s with all this commotion? Let’s hear it.”

As he spoke, he switched off two of the small hot pots beside him. In the gradually cooling broth, he glanced at Zhang Chi, who understood immediately. Zhang Chi circled the table, turning off each boiling pot one by one, even politely saying “excuse me” as he passed the troublemakers.

The blond-haired man scoffed, now focusing entirely on confronting Xue Bao Tian. He wrapped an arm around a heavily made-up girl beside him. “My girlfriend got sick from eating here. We’re asking for an explanation—is that unreasonable?”

“No, that’s not true,” Aunt Ping suddenly spoke up. “They’ve come to cause trouble many times already. We didn’t dare offend them—we apologized, we paid compensation—but they keep coming back every few days. Now I can’t even run my business. No one dares to eat here anymore.”

“Did you call the police?” Zhang Chi asked.

Aunt Ping rubbed her hands against her clothes, unable to answer. Old Cheng stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We were afraid they’d hurt Zhou Zhou, so we didn’t dare call the police.”

Xue Bao Tian’s face darkened. He placed a cigarette in his mouth. “So what do you want? Money?” His gaze swept around. “This place is practically bare—there’s not much to squeeze out anyway.”

He pulled open a drawer, skillfully finding a lighter, holding it as he asked Old Cheng, “Have they been causing trouble at other shops?”

After getting a negative answer, Xue Bao Tian nodded. Lighting his cigarette, he spoke lazily, “Hey, Blondie, what’s your connection to that new skewer shop at the street corner? Drinking gutter oil together? Or dealing in tainted milk powder together? You’re putting in quite the effort just to push our shop out.”

There was no need to ask further—the expressions on the faces of the blond-haired guy and his group, their schemes exposed, said everything. Xue Bao Tian cursed, “Fuck, jealous much? Can’t even beat a roadside shop that only sells vegetarian skewers, so you resort to underhanded tricks.”

He tapped his jaw with his thumb. “How does that saying go? What makes you jealous isn’t your opponent’s strength, but your own hidden pettiness and misery.” He smirked. “Makes damn good sense. Blondie, if your brain can’t remember it, use a pen—carry it with you through life, maybe you’ll improve.”

The blond-haired guy exploded in anger. “You’re looking to die! In this territory, no one dares talk to me like that!”

He lunged forward, but Zhang Chi, who had been standing aside, suddenly pressed him down into a chair. “Don’t get angry. It’s better to solve things calmly.”

Seeing Zhang Chi backing him up, Xue Bao Tian grew even more brazen. “This territory? Which gutter did you crawl out of? You’ve got strong survival skills—somehow even what got splattered on the wall managed to live—but your development’s incomplete. You’re missing two strokes from being human.”

“I’ll fucking ruin you! Guys, get him—beat him!”

The previously fearless Xue Bao Tian suddenly shot up from his seat—because he realized that although Zhang Chi was holding the blond-haired guy down, he wasn’t stopping the others from attacking him!

“Zhang Chi, you said with you here I wouldn’t have to worry—you went back on your word!” Xue Bao Tian dodged backward, avoiding a thug’s front kick, but couldn’t avoid a punch from behind.

Gritting through the pain, he glanced at Zhang Chi and saw that one hand still easily restrained the struggling blond-haired guy, while the other was fiddling with his phone, seemingly unconcerned with his situation.

“Damn it!” Xue Bao Tian gritted his teeth and shouted, “I’ll keep the room, alright?!”

Before his words even finished, Zhang Chi pressed the voice button and, in a tone only he and the blond-haired guy could hear, sent a short message: “Old Bai, sorry. I have to deal with your people today.”

Releasing the button, he suddenly forced the blond-haired guy down onto the boiling hot pot that had somehow been turned back on. His face hovered less than an inch above the bubbling broth. Scalding liquid splashed up, burning his face as he screamed.

Without Zhang Chi saying anything further, the thugs attacking Xue Bao Tian immediately stopped, standing there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

“Can we settle this now?” Zhang Chi’s voice remained calm, yet it carried a chill that seeped into their bones.

“Let go of my boyfriend!” The heavily made-up girl suddenly rushed forward from somewhere, desperately tugging at Zhang Chi’s arm to save her man.

This was the second time Xue Bao Tian had seen helplessness on Zhang Chi’s face—this time even more flustered than before. He curled his lips into a cold, sinister smile, leaning against the table while rubbing his sore shoulder.

“Like I’m the only one without a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” he said, locking eyes with Zhang Chi, “finish him.”

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