“Liu Xingyu” pulled out the ID again and passed it over, and again the bouncer eventually moved aside.

At the top of the stairs, it was much quieter. There were only a few people sitting at the bar. “Liu Xingyu” touched his wallet in his pocket, where the real Liu Xingyu had tucked some money for this occasion, and went to flag down the bartender.

“Baijiu.” He just dropped the stack of cash onto the counter and the bartender pocketed it before he started pouring out the drink. “Liu Xingyu” didn’t need to specify the quality—everything on this second floor was top shelf and priced to match. He wouldn’t be surprised if that stack of money would only afford him a single drink.

“Haven’t seen a new face in a while,” said the person next to him. It was a woman—beautiful black hair cascading to her waist, legs for days, a mouth irritatingly like Liu Xingyu. “Are you new, handsome?”

“To the city, or to the club?”

She smiled at him. “Whichever.”

“Not new to the city,” he said, “just to the club.”

“Where were you going before? One of Kami no Ha’s new clubs?”

Kami no Ha—the name was vaguely familiar to him. It was a gang whose power rivaled the List; their expanding empire was perhaps the only reason why the List’s influence hadn’t reached farther than it already had. “No,” he said. “I was overseas for some time.”

The bartender was back with his drink. “Liu Xingyu” could smell it without even pulling the cup closer—how could people drink this stuff without blacking out immediately afterward?

“What brings you here now?”

“Liu Xingyu” considered this question for a moment. Then he said, “Family,” and afterward he said, “Business, I suppose.”

“Are you here for business too?” She still had that smile on her face—sly, slow. “Liu Xingyu” took a small sip of his drink.

“This time,” he said, “for now.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the woman let out a low, sultry laugh. “They’re waiting for you in the second private room,” she said. “If you need company afterward…let me know.”

She was with the List. Zhang Weiran felt his stomach twist up inside of him, but he pushed it all aside, put on his practiced Liu Xingyu smile—wide, dazzling—and thanked her.

He went to the second private room.

The door was cracked open. He rapped on the surface with his knuckle—an indication that he was there more than it was a knock—and stepped in without waiting for an answer. Inside was another woman. She was older and dressed more conservatively than most in the club: a deep blue pantsuit, matching pumps, deep red lipstick, long hair pulled into a severe bun at the back of her head. She gave “Liu Xingyu” a thin smile as he entered.