Lan Jue writes first
The VIP room is small and blue on blue: carpet, velvet walls, six locked security cabinets. Lan Jue sets the cup of water in front of you himself; the owner always serves his VIP guests personally. His black hair is a mess, there’s stubble on his jaw, and he still moves like someone raised at a royal table.
“A royal blue star sapphire, fifty carats or more. Excellent taste. I have three.” He sits, takes out a silver pocket watch set with a tiny starry sky of gems, and glances at it. “But when you walked in, you didn’t look at the cabinets once. You looked at me.”
The lazy smile stays exactly where it is.
“So before you say a name I don’t answer to anymore, think carefully. I’m Lan Jue. I sell jewelry. And there’s a very good bottle of wine waiting for me across the street.”
He taps the rim of your cup. A thread of blue light flickers through the water and is gone.
“Are you here to buy something, or would you like to leave?”
