Xingyu’s eyes were gleaming. “We’ll be able to get started on the plan even earlier than I thought. I won’t have to wait until my father trusts me again.”

“So? How do we do it?”

Liu Xingyu explained it to him fairly simply: there was a system of clubs throughout the city. If they went to one and asked to be put on “the List,” they would be taken to a back room, their identity verified, and then someone would ask them what they would like. “It’s all in person,” Xingyu said, “so that it can’t be traced.”

There was a variety of things one could request from the List through this process. Most people who were on the List didn’t want a run-of-the-mill sex worker, so they could request someone a little more high-class and a little more discreet. They could bypass any “appointments” with sex workers and buy a person entirely. They could buy a variety of weapons. They could buy organs. They could buy drugs.

None of these sounded at all promising to Weiran.

“What do you think?”

“Order a sex worker.” Xingyu was, as always, perfectly calm as he’d explained all of this, and perfectly calm now. He pulled out a small notepad and began writing something onto it, his pen moving light and easy across the surface so it wouldn’t leave impressions on the next page, all in English so Weiran would be able to understand without issues. “It’s the least risky. Just say something about how you get off just spending time with people.”

Weiran’s face suddenly felt very hot. He covered up his embarrassment by shoving some hongyou chaoshou into his mouth. It was tasteless. “Okay.”

“If you run into the police anyway, here are some instructions for what you can do and say. They can’t arrest you if they don’t have proof of a crime. If they do anyway, I’m also writing down some information for a lawyer. It’s better if you contact her instead of me, just in case they find a connection between us.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll grab one of Xiaokai’s suits and give it to you to wear when you go. You’re…” Xingyu appraised Weiran for a moment, his eyes lingering long enough for Weiran to feel hot again. “You’re about the same size. If it’s dark enough in the club, they shouldn’t be able to tell that it isn’t perfectly fitted.”

“He won’t—” Weiran’s throat was dry. He swallowed. Took one of the soup dumplings this time. Chewed, swallowed again. “He won’t notice it’s gone?” He couldn’t bring himself to say that Xiaokai had seen him earlier today, that he’d talked to him and threatened him into leaving, that he would probably be watching Weiran closely if he didn’t leave after all of that.