Following Daiyu across the ballroom, the long chamber was aglow with ambient lighting and the sparkle of jewels adorning the guests. She waved and smiled as we passed yous, but didn’t stop to talk. The ones our age were enjoying the alcohol, chatting, and laughing, and their parents acted more reserved, but were also drinking. The small orchestra stopped playing and a single spotlight illuminated a woman sitting on a small dais with a guqin set on a carved stand in front of her. She began plucking on the seven-stringed instrument, and its notes filled the room, soulful and longing; a lament. Conversation tapered off as the guests turned their attention to the woman swathed in a pale green brocade tunic and skirt, her black hair pulled back in a long braid.

Several security personnel in their dark suits lingered along the wall, and one stood near the door Daiyu approached. “Can you step away?” I asked in a low voice. “It was selfish of me to ask.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I can leave for a while. There is enough food, drink, and entertainment to keep my guests happy.”

She led me through the discreet door, which required a palm scan. “We have so many social and business events here,” she explained without any prompting, “the security ensures unwanted guests don’t wander through the rest of the house.”

We slipped into an inner corridor, no less grand than the one I had been in before. The noise of the party disappeared the moment the heavy door closed behind us. “Do you host these galas often?” I asked, walking a step behind her, noting my surroundings. There were more closed double doors in this hallway. Glancing at my Vox, I saw that the femtocell was picking nothing up. I knew it was unlikely I could access Jin’s devices given how secure the property was. Daiyu wasn’t carrying her Palm tonight—I needed to get inside her bedroom.

“Once or twice a year,” she said. “This charity especially is something close to my heart.”

The corridor dead-ended with a thick wooden door in the Tuscan style, but with Chinese coins decorating the center of each square panel. The door required another palm scan from Daiyu and opened into a rotunda with a wide, curved marble staircase winding up the far wall. The wrought-iron railing of the staircase had an elaborate Chinese dragon motif.

We climbed the stairs side by side, our fingers brushing against each other. I had to force myself not to jerk back like it was an electrical shock.

“I’ve always hosted this gala alone,” she said. “But some of my friends, like Meiwen, did help with the planning.”

When we arrived at the top of the landing, I saw that this wide corridor was carpeted, providing a more intimate feel than the marbled floors downstairs. “Your house is impressive,” I said.