PREVIEW

... ooms.

Behind the double doors of the east salon, soft jazz played over hidden speakers. Smoke from vintage cigars curled upward toward golden chandeliers. Bottles worth more than small apartments glistened behind a private bar staffed by a man who didn’t smile once.

The afterparty wasn’t about dancing or unwinding—it was about positioning. Here, conversations no longer needed metaphor. Here, secrets were traded like currency.

Lin Feng stood near the center of the room, a ...

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