The bass from the speakers rattled the concrete walls of the crowded bar, red neon lights flickering across the whiskey glasses scattered on the table. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and laughter—one of those Shanghai nights that could turn wild without warning.

I leaned back against the leather couch, one hand around a half-empty glass, the other draped lazily over the armrest. My men were all around me—some laughing too loud, others dancing with girls on the floor. A few had already disappeared into the crowd, flirting like they didn’t have guns under their jackets.

Beside me, Yiwen—my right-hand man—grinned and leaned closer. “Boss, why don’t you try talking to one of the girls tonight? They’re all staring at you.”

I chuckled under my breath, low and dry. “Talk to them? They usually run before I even open my mouth.”

Yiwen blinked. “Run? Why?”

“Because my face looks like I’m about to kill someone,” I said, deadpan.

That made the whole table erupt in laughter. One of the guys almost spilled his drink, another slapped the table so hard the ashtray jumped.

“Boss, you’re not wrong! You walk by and the girls scatter like pigeons!” I smirked, raising my glass.

“Good. Keeps the noise down.”

As the laughter died, my eyes drifted toward the bar counter. Among the crowd, a girl sat alone—someone who didn’t fit the usual scene. Tourist, maybe? Our eyes met for just a second before she quickly looked away. I let out a soft laugh.

“Well... maybe tonight won’t be as boring as I thought.”