Li Shiyi and the others had come early; the venue hadn’t gotten lively yet, and only a few people in couples or trios were at tables drinking wine; on a round stage half as high as a person, a female singer with a supple waist was crooning a song, in a scarlet qipao with black, curly hair, her arms wrapped in long gloves, and even her operatic gestures at the microphone were incredibly charming and delicate. The manager brought them to a reserved sofa, fan-shaped and leather-brown, and they crowded around a short, four-sided table; Tu Loayao, head bowed, eyes focused on his nose and his nose focused on his heart, hadn’t even the mind to take a look at the female singer; he was quite dedicated to standing by Wu Qian’s side, hands folded over his abdomen, belly drawn in and chest held straight, looking remarkably like a muscular, well-built bodyguard. Li Shiyi was the first to sit, her shoulders half relaxed and her legs crossed, one over the other, tilted upwards in a loose posture; A L...