Lin Feng wasn't surprised when the letter arrived—only mildly curious at the formality.
It wasn't a text, a call, or even one of those cryptic group messages the elite circles favored. No. This came in a red velvet envelope, sealed with black wax, and hand-delivered to his dorm.
A quiet knock. A bowed courier in a tailored uniform. No words exchanged.
Lin Feng closed the door behind him, ran a thumb across the wax seal, and broke it clean.
"An evening to dine. Crimson Circle welcomes you to its table. No guests. No delays. Formal attire."
"Location enclosed. 7:30 sharp."
No names. No signatures. But the message didn't need one.
The Crimson Circle rarely invited outsiders. And never twice.
By sunset, the city's skyline had softened into a watercolor of fading light and rising anticipation. Lin Feng stood at the edge of the rooftop valet entrance of the Palace on Fifth—an exclusive restaurant not even listed on most maps.
He wore a dark suit again, but this time, the cut was sharper. Still minimalist, still without labels, but it moved with him like second skin—quiet power dressed in cloth.
As he entered, a uniformed staff member—clearly briefed—gestured without speaking, guiding him to the upper floor. Each step was padded by silk carpets and watched by curated oil paintings of emperors and modern-day moguls.
When the double doors opened, the room was like a painting that hadn't been framed yet—too vivid, too alive to be caught in stillness.
Crimson drapes, silver-tipped utensils, a long table set for eight, and a silence that suggested something much older than dinner parties.
At the far end of the table, Xu Shanyue sat in ivory.
Her eyes, those soft-razor edges of violet gray, didn't blink when they landed on him.
"You're early," she said, voice calm as still water.
"I was invited," Lin Feng replied, sliding into the seat across from her.
A few others joined—faces Lin Feng didn't recognize, but whose body language spoke volumes. Clean shoes. Measured smiles. Phrases chosen like chess pieces.
A girl in emerald leaned toward another and whispered behind a fan. A boy in silver-rimmed glasses shot Lin Feng a glance half amused, half wary.
But Xu Shanyue? She didn't move. Her hands remained folded neatly on her lap, eyes locked on him like he was a riddle she wasn't sure she wanted solved.
The first course was served—something French, likely flown in that morning. Lin Feng didn't touch it.
Shanyue finally spoke again. "We don't usually extend invitations to those we can't predict."
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "That sounds more like a warning than a compliment."
"It's both," she said, tilting her head slightly. "The Crimson Circle respects power, but it worships control. Your unpredictability unsettles some."
He sipped his water. "And you?"
"I'm curious." Her lips lifted at the corner, but it wasn't a smile. "You walk into elite circles without trying to belong. That makes you dangerous."
Lin Feng leaned back. "Or disinterested."
A silence bloomed between them, the kind full of unspoken thoughts. Even the others quieted.
Then, softly, Shanyue said, "Tonight is a test—but not the kind you're used to. No games. No investment traps. Just observation."
"Observation of what?"
"Of how you move when no one's trying to beat you."
Lin Feng glanced around. "Everyone here is trying to beat me."
She didn't deny it.
By the third course, things had shifted. The casual barbs, the subtle challenges, the posturing—it all flowed beneath the surface. But Lin Feng didn't rise to any bait.
He spoke little, listened more. Let them circle him like wolves unsure if the deer had teeth.
And that silence worked in his favor.
By dessert, someone leaned over and asked him directly, "So what do you want, Lin Feng? Influence? Legacy? A name among names?"
He paused.
Then: "None of the above. I just like watching empires try to figure out why they can't shake a ghost."
A beat of silence.
Then—surprisingly—a chuckle from the boy in silver glasses.
Even Xu Shanyue's expression cracked, ever so slightly.
The game, it seemed, had changed again.
As the dinner drew to a close, and guests began their polite exits, Xu Shanyue remained seated. Lin Feng rose, but she didn't.
Instead, she said quietly, "Walk with me."
They stepped out onto the private balcony, city lights blooming like fireflies below.
Shanyue didn't look at him when she spoke.
"You've passed their test. Whatever it was. But my question is different."
He waited.
She turned. "If I asked you to help me break the Crimson Circle from the inside… would you?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"I might."
She smiled—this time, for real. Brief. Sharp.
"Good," she said, turning back to the skyline. "Because they're watching both of us now."