The "Rules" of the VIP Entrance
Seattle nights are always filled with a humid air that carries a crisp, slightly salty coolness from the Pacific Ocean. But in some parts of the city center, this coolness is replaced by a hotter, more bustling atmosphere.
The neon lights, like flowing colored lava, painted a hazy play of light and shadow on the wet asphalt and the faces of hurried pedestrians.
The deafening roar of the subwoofer, even through thick soundproof walls and tightly closed doors and windows, stubbornly pounded on the chests of passersby, announcing the existence of some sleepless place.
The Q Nightclub signboard is the most blatant bright spot in this light pollution. The huge, artistic "Q" shape, composed of countless LED tubes, flashes alternately with ice blue and incandescent white light, almost illuminating a small patch of the night sky overhead.
The long, winding queue in front of the gate was frightening. Men and women dressed fashionably, even in revealing clothes, shivered in the cold wind, yet still tried to stand up straight, their faces showing either anxious anticipation of entering or feigned indifference.
The air was thick with the scents of expensive perfumes, hairspray, tobacco, and some indescribable stimulant.
Every now and then, a sports car with a low roar or a black SUV with a sleek, hard-edged design would drive right up to the VIP entrance and drop off a few guests who looked "extraordinary," causing a suppressed commotion and complicated glances from those in line.
"Boss, this is it." Kong Xiang pointed to the side entrance, which was clearly separated from the long queue and covered with a dark red carpet.
Two burly men, also dressed in black suits but noticeably larger than the security guards maintaining order in the regular queue, stood solemnly at the entrance, like two guardian deities.
Kong Xiang rubbed his hands together. Today he had changed into a relatively casual but well-made shirt and jeans, trying to cover up some of his "academic" air. However, in the glamorous environment around him, his tall stature and slightly rugged appearance made him look more like a bodyguard or thug.
"The sound system and lighting are top-notch on the West Coast. I heard they even hired a pretty famous Netherlands DJ this week. I had a friend reserve a booth for me in advance, and the location is great."
Lin Feng nodded slightly without speaking. Today he was wearing a simple black turtleneck sweater with a dark gray cashmere coat over it. He appeared unusually low-key amidst the dazzling array of clothing around him, but his calm demeanor made him stand out like a rock in a turbulent current.
K, as usual, was dressed in a sharp dark suit, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a keen gaze. Lü Yi, on the other hand, looked around excitedly, whistling at the women in line, which drew a few eye rolls, but he didn't care.
The group headed straight for the VIP entrance. Two guards in black suits immediately locked their gazes on them, simultaneously stepping aside to block most of the passage. One of them, expressionless, spoke in a businesslike tone, his voice drowning out the faint hum of the music. "Gentlemen, good evening. Please cooperate with the security check." He brandished the long-handled metal detector in his hand.
Another person added, "Please remove any metal objects you are carrying." His gaze swept over Lin Feng and the others, lingering a moment longer on K and the few "Blood Spear" mercenaries who were clearly his followers, his professional vigilance increasing slightly.
The two "Blood Spear" mercenaries at the forefront (let's call them A Ta and Iron Hammer for now) didn't even pause. As soon as the guild master's voice fell, the two of them took a step forward simultaneously, as if they had practiced it a thousand times, instantly closing the distance between them.
They didn't draw their weapons or speak; they simply raised their right hands, gloved with black tactical gloves, and with an unyielding, firm hand, pressed them against the chests of the two gatekeepers.
"Huh?" The two doormen were clearly not expected to be so direct. They were pushed and staggered back half a step, their backs hitting the cold door frame. Their professional calm was instantly replaced by shock and anger. Their muscles tensed, and their hands instinctively reached for their waists (where batons or walkie-talkies might be hanging).
But their movements froze the moment they met A Ta and Iron Hammer's eyes.
What kind of look was that? There was no anger, no threat, not even any particular emotion, only a cold, indifferent gaze, as if they were surveying an obstacle. It was as if they were not pushing open two living people, but two doors that needed to be moved.
What made the doorkeeper even more uneasy was that the force from the opponent's palm was extremely solid, not just a bluff. Moreover, the bulging muscles under the two men's suits and their well-trained physiques silently spoke of danger.
The gatekeeper's gaze passed over A Ta and Iron Hammer's shoulders and looked behind them. The young Asia man, who was being protected in the middle, simply watched everything calmly, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.
The aloof man in the suit next to him (K) scanned them with eyes like a scalpel, as if assessing the risk level. Behind him, the grinning, burly man (Lü Yi) wore an expression of anticipation, while several other silent, sharp-looking entourage members stood nearby...
The two gatekeepers exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise and hesitation in each other's eyes. Here, a keen eye is more important than fists when guarding the gate. These people didn't seem like rich kids on vacation, nor were they ordinary wealthy tourists. That subtle aura, a mixture of ruthlessness and indifference, reminded them of certain "professionals" who shouldn't be in this kind of place. Should they forcefully stop them? For a job, it wasn't worth it.
The hands that had been pressing on their chests loosened their grip at just the right moment, but did not retract, maintaining an invisible pressure.
A Ta and Iron Hammer stepped aside to make way.
Lin Feng strode past the two doormen without even glancing at them. K followed closely behind. Kong Xiang quickly caught up, forcing an awkward, fake smile at the doormen as he passed.
Lü Yi, who was lagging behind, strolled over unsteadily. He paused as he passed the gatekeeper who had just asked for a security check.
Under the other person's somewhat nervous gaze, Lü Yi grinned, reached into his jeans pocket, rummaged around for a few moments, and pulled out a small roll of green US dollars.
He weighed the bills in his hand, then slapped them down loudly onto the doorman's hand, which he hadn't yet fully lowered.
"Hey, buddy." Lü Yi leaned closer and spoke in broken, but understandable English, enunciating each word clearly. His smile remained, but his eyes held no warmth. "Keep an eye on my car, understand?"
The doorman, clutching the few banknotes still warm and stained with sweat, was a little bewildered and nodded subconsciously.
Lü Yi's smile deepened, revealing a set of white teeth. But his next move sent a chill down the doorman's spine. Lü Yi suddenly extended his index finger and swiftly poked the doorman's outer thigh, just above the knee, while simultaneously making a very vivid "break" gesture with his other hand, accompanied by a soft "crack" sound.
"Otherwise," he drawled, his smile instantly turning cold, "My legs will be broken!"
After saying that, he stopped looking at the doorman's instantly stiff face and the fine sweat on his forehead, as if he had just completed a trivial task. He whistled off-key, put his hands in his pockets, and strolled into the dimly lit VIP passage with a red carpet. His figure was quickly swallowed up by the even more hazy light and shadow inside.
At the entrance, the two doormen stood frozen for a few seconds, the roll of banknotes in their hands like a hot potato. Music blared from inside, mingling with the noise of the street outside. They glanced back into the passageway, then at each other, and ultimately, neither mentioned the word "security check" again. One silently stuffed the banknotes into his pocket, while the other picked up his walkie-talkie and whispered something, probably telling those inside to keep an eye out for a group of "somewhat different Asia guests."
The passageway wasn't long, but it was extremely soundproof. As soon as you stepped inside, most of the noise from the outside world was instantly filtered out, replaced by a more concentrated and violent wave of sound.
The air instantly became scorching and cloying, a complex mixture of high-end fragrances, alcohol, hormones, and the lingering scents of countless perfumes and the evaporation of sweat. The carpet beneath your feet was soft and sound-absorbing, but with each step, you could feel the heavy, heart-pounding bass boom emanating from deep within the floor.
After turning a corner, the view suddenly opened up, as if stepping into another dimension of a noisy universe.
The enormous, incredibly high-ceilinged space immediately captures all attention.
The dome is not static, but a flowing forest of light woven from countless intricate laser beams that constantly change angles and colors.
Beams of light sliced through the air, sometimes converging into dazzling beams that swept across the entire arena, sometimes scattering like a sky full of falling stars, and sometimes twisting into abstract geometric shapes, pulsating wildly to the rhythm of the music. In the center was an incredibly spacious sunken dance floor, like a small plaza, now completely filled with people.
Hundreds of bodies twisted, jumped, and swayed wildly to the deafening, ear-tearing EDM music, like a pot of brightly colored soup being boiled.
The DJ booth was perched high on one side, and a figure wearing headphones, whose face was obscured, was like a priest commanding a raging ocean, frantically manipulating the knobs and faders. Every drop triggered a collective tremor on the dance floor, like a tsunami.
In contrast to the almost primal frenzy of the dance floor below, the VIP area that rises around the dance floor is like a series of relatively tranquil islands in a noisy ocean. Booths, cleverly separated by dark glass and light strips, are scattered across platforms at different heights.
The music here is slightly softer (relatively speaking), the deep bass still pounding in the chest, but it's enough to have a barely audible conversation.
Inside the booths are large, soft U-shaped sofas, and an expensive marble coffee table is filled with shimmering ice buckets, sparkling crystal wine glasses, an extravagantly designed champagne tower, and various fruit platters and desserts.
Sexy waitresses in uniforms with hot figures carried trays and moved gracefully between the booths like butterflies.
The air here is still scorching, but with a different kind of heat, a heat that comes from the accumulation of money and status.
The guests in the booths were impeccably dressed, their demeanor deliberately relaxed or flamboyant. Some chatted and laughed in hushed tones, while others simply leaned back on the sofas, coldly surveying the frenzy on the dance floor below, like gods looking down on ants. These were the best boxes for watching the performance, but also another, more secluded and expensive "hunting ground."
Kong Xiang led the way, and the waiter respectfully led them to a booth with an excellent location—located on the edge of a small platform extending from the second floor, directly facing the center of the dance floor and the DJ booth, offering an unobstructed view while maintaining relative privacy.
As everyone took their seats, the soft sofas instantly enveloped them. Soon, a male waiter in a black vest and bow tie approached and respectfully presented the drinks menu. Kong Xiang expertly ordered the expensive Ace of Spades champagne, several bottles of single malt whisky, and a generous fruit platter and snacks.
Lin Feng leaned back into the sofa, his gaze calmly sweeping over the bustling dance floor below and the luxurious booths around him. His face remained expressionless, as if this ultimate feast for the senses was no different from the damp, cold Seattle night view outside the window.
K sat to his side, relaxed but with his eyes always alert, like the most loyal sentry. Lü Yi couldn't wait to pour himself a glass of whiskey, tilted his head back and took a big gulp, exhaled, and a satisfied expression appeared on his face. His eyes began to wander around restlessly, especially giving stares to the hot waiters and female customers who passed by.
Just then, Lü Yi, probably sitting too close to the aisle, reached for the fruit plate and leaned back. Just then, an Asian girl (Jenny) carrying an empty tray and swaying her hips hurried past.
"Ouch!"
The two collided solidly. The tray in the girl's hand fell to the ground with a clatter, and she herself stumbled, spilling the half-finished, brightly colored cocktail in her hand, a few drops splashing onto her expensive sequined miniskirt and a few drops onto Lü Yi's trouser leg.
"Damn it..." Lü Yi instinctively cursed in Chinese, then quickly steadied himself. Looking up, he saw it was a girl, an Asian girl at that. He swallowed the curse back and mumbled apologetically, "Sorry, I didn't see you."
The girl (Jenny) steadied herself, first looking down angrily at the stains on her skirt, then suddenly looked up when she heard Lü Yi's words.
She wore elaborate, heavy makeup, with large eyes and exaggerated false eyelashes. At that moment, those eyes, filled with undisguised disgust and scrutiny, quickly swept over Lü Yi — Lü Yi was wearing a slightly flashy Givenchy shirt today, but two buttons were undone and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His standard Eastern face was immediately labeled as "nouveau riche," "upstart," or "new money from the East who doesn't know the rules" in the eyes of Jenny, an "insider."
She pursed her brightly colored lipstick-covered lips, too lazy to even bend down to pick up the fallen tray, but simply glanced at Lü Yi with a condescending gaze filled with a strong sense of superiority, gave a soft snort, and tossed out a sentence in clear and fluent English, but with a deliberately raised tone to ensure that those around her could hear:
"Hick from the countryside."
(A country dog.)
After speaking, as if afraid of getting dirty, she deliberately avoided Lü Yi, who was still stunned. She didn't bother with the tray on the ground, and swayed her waist and hips, which were tightly wrapped in her short skirt, as she walked quickly towards another booth not far away, which looked more lively and already had several men and women sitting in it, with a charming smile on her face in an instant, as if the unpleasantness just now had never happened.
Lü Yi scratched his head. His English level was limited to a very few words such as "hello," "thank you," and "fuck." He didn't understand a single word Jenny said, but he could sense that her eyes were not friendly and her tone was harsh.
But he was in a good mood today and had just had a good drink, so this little bump and the other person's unfriendly attitude were nothing to him, given his thick skin.
He chuckled, bent down to pick up the metal tray, casually placed it on the empty chair next to him, then happily sat back down in his seat, picked up his glass and took another big gulp. His gaze was already fixed on a blonde woman dancing wildly on the dance floor, and he even whistled.
In the booth, Kong Xiang, who had been observing everything, frowned almost imperceptibly. He picked up his wine glass, shifted his position, sat down next to Lü Yi, and nudged him with his elbow.