Arrival at the Banquet and a Slap of Discrimination

On Saturday night, the revolving restaurant on the top floor of Seattle's iconic Space Needle was transformed into a cage of crystals and lights.

Beyond the massive, circular floor-to-ceiling glass curtain wall lies the city and Puget Sound, now shrouded in night. City lights scatter like diamonds across black velvet, while in the distance, Mount Rainier glows a deep blue under the moonlight, and nearby, ships in the harbor trail flowing ribbons of light.

This should have been a breathtaking view, but at this moment, few people in the restaurant Chief General looked out the window. Everyone's attention was focused on the more dazzling and easily valued things under the lights.

The restaurant has been rearranged, with unnecessary tables and chairs removed to create a spacious central social area. The mirror-like dark marble floor reflects the light from the intricate, nebula-like crystal chandelier on the ceiling, as well as countless pairs of gleaming, expensive shoes.

The air was filled with a complex blend of scents: fine perfumes, cigars, dinner food, and rich floral aromas (from expensive flower arrangements placed throughout the room). It was sweet, sophisticated, and carried a hint of deliberate extravagance.

Amidst the rustling of clothes and the clinking of glasses, men in suits and women in elegant attire, like colorful tropical fish, swam, gathered, and dispersed within specific currents (social rules). The sounds of conversation, reserved laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soothing jazz music played by a live band formed the background music of high society.

Lin Feng's arrival was not announced beforehand, but several understated yet imposing black Maybach were parked in the exclusive passage. The doors opened, and several lean, sharp-eyed men in well-tailored but crisp suits stepped out. They quickly scanned the surroundings and formed a protective circle.

Then, accompanied by K and Lü Yi, Lin Feng stepped out of the car and walked towards the private elevator that went directly to the top floor.

This scene had already been observed by several waiters and parking attendants at the entrance, and through them, it was quickly relayed to some astute individuals at the banquet. The description was of a "young Asian man with elite bodyguards, a considerable entourage, and an unfamiliar face."

The elevator ascended silently and swiftly. Inside the car, Lin Feng straightened his cuffs, his expression calm. K, meanwhile, checked his tie one last time against the reflection in the wall.

Lü Yi was unusually dressed in a formal black suit, but it always gave the impression that the suit concealed not a guest attending a banquet, but a cheetah whose head might break free at any moment. He curiously examined the decorations on the interior walls of the sedan chair, then looked down at his shiny leather shoes, seemingly feeling somewhat awkward.

The elevator doors slid open, and a warm, bustling atmosphere and lights flooded in.

The three entered the banquet hall. Almost immediately, several pairs of eyes were cast upon them from different angles, carrying scrutiny, curiosity, assessment, and a hint of barely perceptible aloofness and a faint sense of superiority. Lin Feng was young, with an Asian face, and the two people behind him (especially Lü Yi) also had a demeanor quite different from the business elites or scions of prominent families commonly seen here.

More importantly, although the recent change of ownership of NLG has not been widely publicized in the public media, it is no secret in Seattle's local business circles and certain well-informed circles.

The "mysterious Eastern buyer" who ruthlessly drove out Old Walton and quickly took control of NLG gradually overlapped with the excessively young face in front of him.

Lin Feng seemed oblivious to this. He took a glass of champagne from the waiter's tray, took a small sip, and calmly scanned the room. K, like the most silent shadow, lagged behind him by half a step. Lü Yi, on the other hand, looked around excitedly, her eyes quickly drawn to the food and scantily clad ladies moving about.

The probing began quickly.

A slightly overweight, smiling middle-aged Caucasian man approached with a wine glass, handed over his business card, and introduced himself as the CEO of a small local technology outsourcing company. He expressed "great interest" and "congratulations" on NLG's "new look," and tentatively inquired about any needs for IT system upgrades or logistics management software. Lin Feng listened with a smile, nodding occasionally, and gave a brief and vague reply, "Thank you, NLG is comprehensively evaluating all its businesses and will contact us if needed."

An Asian woman (completely Westernized) wearing Chanel suit and impeccable makeup approached him, introducing herself as an investment manager at a family office. The conversation ranged from a rainy day in Seattle to the Asia economy, eventually settling on whether he was interested in learning about some high-return, low-risk alternative investment opportunities. Lin Feng politely replied that his current focus was on integrating existing business, but he accepted her business card.

A man wearing a lawyer's badge and speaking rapidly approached, praising Lin Feng for "handling the acquisition beautifully" and subtly implying that he was an expert in handling "complex business disputes and tax planning" and could "help the new company avoid potential risks." Lin Feng neither confirmed nor denied, only saying that "the company has a legal team."

In just over ten minutes, six or seven groups of people had come forward. Some were local small business owners who genuinely wanted to find out the truth and seek cooperation; some were professionals (lawyers, accountants, consultants) eager to get a share of this "big business"; and some were simply social animals who wanted to become acquainted and expand their network.

Lin Feng maintained a distant politeness throughout, with a faint and appropriate smile on his face. He handled the situation with ease, neither appearing overly enthusiastic nor impolite. He spoke at a slow pace, but each answer was perfectly timed to block further probing while leaving room for interpretation, making it difficult to discern his true thoughts and intentions.

His composure and the understated calm that seemed beyond his years caused some of those who initially came with the mindset of "just looking at this lucky nouveau riche" to quietly put away some of their disdain.

"Boss, these guys are really good at talking, going around in circles, not saying anything substantial." Taking advantage of a break, Lü Yi leaned close to Lin Feng's ear and whispered his complaints in Chinese, while casually grabbing another cocktail from a passing waiter's tray.

"That's normal. This kind of occasion is all about exploiting information gaps and playing favorites," Lin Feng replied in a low voice, his gaze casually sweeping across the room. He noticed that several truly influential figures (such as several VPs of local banks, an assistant to a city councilor, and two or three local entrepreneurs who frequently appear in financial news) were only casting their gazes from afar, without taking the initiative to approach, clearly still observing.

Just then, Lü Yi's eyes suddenly lit up. He tugged at Lin Feng's sleeve, lowered his voice, and said with a rare hint of excitement, "Hey! Boss! Look over there! It's Emma Russo! The one from ' Interstellar Fury '! Holy crap, she's even more amazing in person than in the movie!"

Lin Feng followed his gaze. On the other side of the banquet hall, near the band's performance area, a semi-circular sofa area was surrounded by several people like stars around the moon. In the center was a young woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and snow-white skin, wearing a silver-gray floor-length deep V-neck dress. She was none other than Emma Russell, the Hollywood actress who had recently become a hot commodity for starring in a series of science fiction blockbusters.

She was tilting her head, chatting and laughing with a portly man beside her who wore gold-rimmed Glasses and looked like a producer. Her eyes sparkled as she glanced around, her smile sweet, and under the lights, she seemed to have her own halo, attracting countless admiring, greedy, or fawning glances from those around her. She was also surrounded by two other well-dressed men who looked like investors or local tycoons.

"Boss, can I... can I get an autograph and a photo? I really loved the part where she crashed the spaceship into the alien mothership at the end, it was so damn cool!" Lü Yi rarely showed a fangirl attitude that was in line with his age, his eyes were shining, and his tone even carried a bit of shy expectation.

Lin Feng glanced at him, then at the radiant actress in the distance, and smiled noncommittally, "Suit yourself. Be mindful of the occasion, don't be too reckless."

"Alright! Don't worry!" Lü Yi chuckled, downed his drink in one gulp, handed the empty glass to the waiter beside him, and then subconsciously straightened his suit jacket and tie, which weren't actually messy (his movements were a bit clumsy). He took a deep breath, as if he were about to carry out some important mission, and, using another glass of wine as a cover, stepped over and squeezed his way over.

Lin Feng watched with great interest. K also silently took half a step, his gaze following Lü Yi, remaining focused.

Lü Yi struggled through the crowd to reach the outer edge of the small circle. He waited patiently for a while, and as Emma Russell was talking to the producer, and another man who had been chatting with her turned to get a drink, he quickly stepped forward, putting on what he thought was the most polite and friendly smile (but because his appearance was somewhat roguish, the smile looked a little stiff).

"Miss Russell, excuse me," Lü Yi said, his English slightly accented but clear enough. He even gave a slight bow, trying to appear polite. "I'm a fan of yours, I really enjoy your movies, especially the ' Interstellar Fury ' series. Could you... sign my autograph?"

As he spoke, he magically pulled a decent-looking pen and a clean card from the inside pocket of his suit (clearly he had prepared this in advance), and looked at Emma Russell expectantly.

Emma Russell, who was tilting her head to listen to the producer's next words, was slightly annoyed at being interrupted. She frowned slightly and turned her head. Her gaze fell on Lü Yi — Zhang Ming Asian, with darker skin, strong features, and even looked a bit "fierce" due to nervousness and excitement, which was very different from the suited and "civilized" elites or tycoons she usually encountered.

A fleeting, undisguised contempt, disgust, and an instinctive aversion to seeing something unclean flashed in her beautiful blue eyes.

She didn't even listen to Lü Yi's last words, nor did she look at the pen and card he offered. She simply and arrogantly turned her head away, as if the person in front of her didn't exist at all, but was just an unpleasant wisp of air.

She turned back to the producer, her face instantly switching back to that sweet and charming smile, and said in a slightly raised, coquettish, sweet voice, "Oh, darling, that party you mentioned in Malibu next week, specifically..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but as she turned her head, she uttered a single word clearly and impatiently, as if shooing away flies, in a volume loud enough for several people nearby, including Lü Yi, to hear clearly:

"Ching chong."

This is an onomatopoeic word that is extremely insulting and discriminatory towards Asians, especially Chinese, mimicking so-called Chinese pronunciation and filled with deep-seated racial arrogance and humiliation.

Time seemed to freeze in Lü Yi's ears.

The forced smile on his face, filled with expectation and a touch of unease, froze instantly, then crumbled like shattered porcelain. Blood rushed to his head with a "buzz," and his cheeks, ears, and neck flushed crimson at a visible speed. It wasn't the red of shyness, but the red of anger, humiliation, and the blood of a severe slap.

His fingers tightened abruptly around the pen and card, his knuckles cracking from the force, even slightly deforming the pen's metal cap. He stood there like a statue instantly engulfed in rage, his chest heaving, staring intently at Emma Russell's delicate profile, which was etched with indifference and contempt.

Lin Feng, who had been keeping an eye on them out of the corner of his eye, had a gentle smile on his face that vanished the moment Emma Russell uttered that word, as if swept away by a cold current. His eyes suddenly turned cold, sharp as a drawn dagger, and a chilling killing intent surged beneath the calm surface of the lake. The surrounding temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

He set down his champagne glass, the crystal stem making a crisp but unmistakable "tap" as it touched the marble table. Without the slightest hesitation, he parted the two people in front of him who were still trying to strike up a conversation (the two were startled by the sudden chill emanating from him and instinctively stepped back), and strode towards Lü Yi and Emma Russell.

His steps were steady, yet carried an undeniable, imposing pressure, like a storm brewing. K followed closely behind, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily, his hands seemingly hanging casually at his sides, but his muscles were already tense.

Lin Feng strode across the not-so-distant distance in a few steps, directly blocking Emma Russell's path as she was about to completely "ignore" Lü Yi and continue chatting with the producer. His height was similar to Emma's, who was wearing high heels, but standing there with his back straight, the aura he exuded completely overwhelmed her.

Under the light, his sharply defined face was expressionless, only coldly calm. But his deep black eyes, like two bottomless pools of ice, stared straight at Emma Russell, devoid of any warmth, containing only a chilling indifference, as if looking at an inanimate object, and beneath that indifference, an anger that almost solidified into reality.

Miss Russell.

Lin Feng spoke, his voice not loud, even calm, but in this area that was somewhat quiet due to the sudden situation, it was exceptionally clear, carrying a metallic quality and an unquestionable tone of command.

"You need to,"

He paused, his gaze locking onto Emma Russell's blue eyes, which flashed with a hint of panic and surprise at his sudden appearance and imposing presence.

Apologize to my friend.

"Now."

Emma Russell was taken aback by the sudden obstruction and cold words. At first, she instinctively felt annoyed by the offense—another tactless Asia? But when her gaze met Lin Feng's eyes, her heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible hand.

The coldness in his eyes and the almost tangible sense of danger she had never felt in reality made her habitual sarcasm and rebuke stuck in her throat.

She opened her mouth, her lips, painted with bright lipstick, twitched a few times, but no meaningful sound came out. The usual, well-trained sweet smile on her face froze completely, replaced by an undisguised panic and helplessness. She instinctively took a half step back, tripped, and almost fell, but was caught by the producer next to her.

The surroundings fell silent instantly. Conversations ceased, and even the music seemed to fade into the distance. Countless gazes focused on them, filled with surprise, amusement, scrutiny, and schadenfreude. Emma Russell's producer friend frowned, looking at Lin Feng with displeasure. The other two men who had been surrounding Emma also exchanged surprised glances.

The air was thick with tension, a palpable sense of impending conflict. Lü Yi stood slightly behind and to the side of Lin Feng, his chest still heaving, but his eyes were fixed on Emma Russell, like a wounded beast.

At this tense, volatile moment—

"Hey guys! Relax, relax!"

A warm, slightly slick voice broke in. A white man, around forty years old, dressed in a light gray Armani suit, with his hair neatly combed and a professional, enthusiastic smile on his face, appeared at the opportune moment between Lin Feng and Emma Russell, perfectly separating their gazes. His movements were natural, as if he were just a friend there to offer advice.

He first gave a quick wink to the still-shaken Emma Russell and whispered something. Emma, feeling like she had been granted a pardon, disregarded her image and immediately used this opportunity, with the producer's half-support, to hurriedly leave this place of trouble from the side with her head down, not even daring to look back at Lin Feng once more.

Then, the man turned around to face Lin Feng, a sincere yet knowing smile on his face. He raised his glass to Lin Feng, then took a sip himself.