PREVIEW

... > The phone vibrated with an unknown number. Ye Chen answered, greeted by a voice oozing practiced reverence:

"Brother Chen? This is Huang Haiyi—we met at the bar last week? Your black card left quite an impression..."

Memories surfaced—a dimly lit lounge where a pack of wide-eyed socialites had gawked as he casually settled an $80,000 champagne tab. Huang, their ringleader, now sounded like a kid begging for concert tickets.

—Subtextual Thread—

The black card's d ...

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