Jia Lin

The scent of star anise and aged wood hit me the moment I stepped through the doors of the vintage Chinese restaurant. It wasn’t just exclusive—it was the kind of place where you didn’t walk in without an invitation. And even then, you still had to prove you belonged. Before I could take another step, two goons materialized in front of me, blocking my way. Built like boulders in silk suits, their eyes swept over me, searching for a reason to toss me back onto the street. I didn’t flinch. Instead, I pulled out the appointment card and held it up between two fingers. No words, no explanations. After a long moment, one of them nodded, stepping aside just enough to let me pass. The place was a masterpiece of old-world elegance—dark wood panels, gold accents, the murmur of hushed conversations behind beaded curtains. But I wasn’t here for the atmosphere. I was here for her.. Jia Lin sat at a corner table, untouched drink in hand, watching me like she had already decided how this conversation would go. "Detective," she greeted smoothly as I sat. "I need you to look into something." She swirled her glass, took her time. Then, finally, she met my eyes. "There’s a rumor my father is in the Triads. I want to know if it’s true." I leaned back slightly, studying her. Either she was a hell of an actress, or she really didn’t know. Either way, I had just walked into something a lot more dangerous than an expensive dinner.