Xu Zhenglin · Conversa

<div class="censy-time-board"><div class="ctb-left"><span class="ctb-year">2023</span><span class="ctb-month-day">6/22</span></div><div class="ctb-divider"></div><div class="ctb-right"><div class="ctb-time-loc"><span class="ctb-time">22:40</span> // <span class="ctb-loc">Wanzun Club</span></div><div class="ctb-weather-people"><span class="ctb-weather">Clear</span> | <span class="ctb-people">你/Xu Zhenglin</span></div></div></div> Two neatly trimmed podocarpus trees stand at the entrance of Wanzun Club, their crowns illuminated by floor spotlights until they glow an oily green, fine droplets of water hanging between the leaves as if they had just been misted by a professional. The bellboy, dressed in a crisp black uniform, bows at just the right angle when opening car doors for guests—respectful, yet not subservient. Xu Zhenglin entered through the side door. He circled in from the back alley, passed through the employee passage, turned twice, and stopped in front of a grey security door that looked like a fire exit. The door had no markings or handle, only a palm-sized sensor embedded in the side. Tan Yi stepped forward and swiped a card; the sound of the metal lock retracting was absorbed by the walls, so quiet it was almost inaudible. Behind the door was a narrow corridor over ten meters long, where the lighting suddenly shifted to a dark gold. The carpet changed from industrial grey mats to deep red velvet, feeling soft and thick underfoot as the layers of pile swallowed the sound of footsteps. Passing through the second door at the end of the narrow hallway, the casino truly unfolded. There were no windows. Dense dark-gold spotlights were embedded in the ceiling, the light cut into uniform blocks that fell onto the green gambling tables, onto the meticulous vest buttons of the croupiers, and onto the slightly glistening foreheads and finger gaps of the gamblers. Hundreds of tables were arranged in staggered zones; the click-clack of the roulette wheel, the muffled thud of dice rolling in the cup, and the crisp clinking of chips blended into a low roar, like some giant machine running at a constant speed. The scent of incense in the air was made heavier by body heat and cigars, carrying a faint, cloying sweetness when inhaled. Xu Zhenglin walked through the noise as if traversing an ordinary living room. His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. As he passed a baccarat table, someone recognized him and stood up with a slight nod; he tilted his chin in response without stopping his pace. The sofas in the second-floor VIP area faced the main hall below. One-way glass allowed everything downstairs to be seen while keeping him hidden behind a hazy, mirrored surface. He leaned back into the cushions, legs crossed with his feet resting on the edge of the low table, a cigar held between his fingertips, occasionally turning it over and over against his thumb. <message>Tan Yi stood slightly behind him, his voice low and steady: "Table twenty-two, third seat on the south side. Thirty-seven million in chips moved through his hands tonight. The female companion beside him stayed at roulette wheel number four for forty minutes and placed three bets on behalf of others." </message> <message>"For whom?"</message> <message>"Not clear yet."</message> Xu Zhenglin gave a noncommittal "mm," lifted the cigar to his nose to catch the scent, then lowered it. A low cheer suddenly erupted from the main hall below—likely a large bet won at some table. The crowd surged toward it for a few steps before quickly dispersing. He watched the brief excitement, the twilight-grey in his eyes remaining unmoved. <message>"What about Boss Liu's side?"</message> <message>Tan Yi paused for a moment: "He didn't come."</message> <message>Xu Zhenglin tilted his head, the corner of his mouth finally pulling into a slight curve: "Didn't he say he wanted to talk to me tonight?"</message> <message>"Perhaps he's still waiting for you to speak first."</message> <message>"Speak about what?" He set the cigar on the coffee table and picked up the half-melted whiskey from the glass beside him. The ice clinked against the glass—a soft sound. "He built that venue in the East District using my blueprints, and now he says he doesn't want the Chamber of Commerce to touch it. He should at least give the blueprints back, shouldn't he?"</message> He took a sip of the drink, eyelids drooping, his tone as casual as if he were chatting about the weather. Tan Yi didn't reply, simply turning a page of the report. Down in the main hall, the man in the third seat on the south side of Table 22 finally stood up. He was a man in his early fifties, suit jacket over his arm, his shirt stained with light patches of sweat. His face was pale, but his steps were still steady. He moved through the crowd toward the chip exchange counter. Watching the man's back through the one-way glass, Xu Zhenglin suddenly set down his glass and stood up, bracing his hands on his knees. He smoothed the hem of his shirt and turned to head downstairs. <message>Tan Yi took a step to follow: "You're going down?"</message> <message>"Just going for a stroll." His pace was unhurried. He pulled a lighter from his trouser pocket, his thumb flicking the lid open—click—closing it, then clicking it again. "It's stifling. I'll find a table and play a few rounds. And by the way— He reached the top of the stairs, turned sideways, and tilted his chin toward Tan Yi, the smile at the corners of his eyes both casual and cold: "Tell that man in the third seat on the south side of Table 22 to leave his things before he goes. The small safe he brought in—the password is his wife's birthday. Tell him I said so."</message> Tan Yi nodded and watched him go downstairs. The stairs were covered in dark green velvet carpet, the same fabric as the narrow corridor earlier, making his footsteps nearly silent. Xu Zhenglin walked down step by step, one hand in his pocket, his shirt collar open, floral tattoos faintly visible in the interplay of light and shadow. He reached the bottom floor and, without pausing, wove through the tables. Some people recognized him as he passed, their gazes briefly landing on him before quickly shifting away, like a small ripple made by a stone on the water's surface that returns to stillness a moment later. <message>When he reached the central roulette table, he paused, took a few chips from his pocket and placed them on the table, offering a smile to the croupier: "Red, odd. Thirty-seven."</message> The croupier startled slightly, then nodded. The wheel spun, the ball rolling over the numbered slots with a rapid click-clack. Several nearby gamblers instinctively turned their heads—they recognized him, then turned back, the flicker of unease in their eyes quickly suppressed. Xu Zhenglin didn't look at the wheel. He leaned against the table, head tilted, his gaze sweeping over the inconspicuous hidden door in the eastern corner of the hall before moving on. The ball stopped. <message>"Thirty-seven, red, odd," the croupier announced the result.</message <message>He smiled and casually pushed the won chips to a young girl standing nearby, his tone as nonchalant as if handing out a piece of candy: "For you. Good luck."</message> Then he turned and walked toward the hidden door on the east side. The door was embedded in the wall, blending almost perfectly with the surrounding dark wood paneling, with only a very fine gold line at the edge of the frame reflecting faintly under the lights. The door wasn't locked; his movement to push it open was light and natural, as if opening the door to his own study, and he vanished behind it in a flash. Before the door closed, someone looked back—that direction was clearly a solid wall, with no sign of an exit. Passing through that door led to another narrow corridor, shorter than the one he arrived through, with the lighting dimmed by another degree. The carpet here was dark grey, the walls painted matte black, and at the end was a heavy iron door. Xu Zhenglin reached the door, pushed it open, and a night breeze suddenly rushed in, dispersing the heavy scent of cigars and woody incense on his person. He stood at the doorway, pulled out his lighter, lit a cigarette, and the moment he looked up, his gaze fell on something not far away.