# 422
Chapter 422: The Banquet
Bright morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows and spilled across the spotless tiles. Lin Qiye, dressed in a suit, stood before a full-length mirror, carefully tightening the black tie at his neck.
They’d bought the suit at a mall in Gusu City. While not outrageously expensive, it had still cost a pretty penny. They figured that if they were going to attend such an important banquet, showing up in cheap suits would only embarrass Baili Pangpang. After all, they were the future fifth special squad—if they dressed like beggars, how could they ever hold their heads high?
Since the fat boss was footing the bill, Lin Qiye didn’t feel the slightest pinch.
A suit really was a case of “you get what you pay for.” The one he wore now, though costly, carried a refinement no bargain garment could match. The textured fabric hugged his frame, outlining every lean, powerful line—elegance and strength in perfect balance.
The jet-black collar against the snow-white shirt set off his handsome features, and those star-bright eyes studied his reflection with clear satisfaction.
Cao Yuan, also in a suit, walked past, caught sight of the devastatingly sharp Lin Qiye in the mirror, and his face fell.
“How come you look like a movie star while I look like a civilized terrorist?”
Lin Qiye turned. Cao Yuan wore an almost identical suit, tie knotted to perfection, yet that unmistakable ferocity still radiated from him. If you had to describe it in four words: “suited thug.”
“Probably the face,” Lin Qiye answered seriously, pointing to the side. “Look—An Qingyu looks perfectly normal.”
An Qingyu, in the middle of fastening his tie, blinked, then gave a shy smile. He tightened the knot, picked up his black-rimmed glasses, and put them on—every inch the gentle, bookish boy next door, soft scholarly light glowing around him.
Cao Yuan’s mouth twitched. After a moment he managed, “Doesn’t matter. I bet Fatty looks even worse…”
The three of them were ready when a bedroom door eased open.
Jialan stepped out in a deep-blue gown, waterfall-smooth hair falling to her waist. She lifted a jade arm and tucked a strand behind her ear, a faint blush on her cheeks.
“Does… does it look nice?” She walked up to Lin Qiye, eyes shining with anticipation.
Cao Yuan and An Qingyu both swiveled to look at Lin Qiye.
He studied her for a long second, then nodded. “Beautiful.”
The other two exhaled in relief.
At the word, Jialan smiled, sunlight brushing her face like late-autumn warmth that made the heart flutter.
Ding-dong!
The doorbell chimed. Cao Yuan opened the suite door to find Chang Kangsheng standing there, polite smile in place.
“Honored guests, the car is ready. If you’re prepared, please allow me to escort you to the birthday venue.”
Lin Qiye was about to answer when Cao Yuan leaned in and muttered, “Qiye, when we go to the banquet… do we bring our blades?”
Lin Qiye hesitated. In theory, even on leave a prospective special squad should keep weapons within reach; when a helicopter swoops in for an emergency, it won’t wait while you run back for gear. But turning up armed at a banquet—especially one for Baili Pangpang’s father—would be awkward.
After a moment he had his answer. He smiled at Chang Kangsheng. “A few more minutes, please.”
He went back inside. A few minutes later he re-emerged, nodded to the others, and the four climbed into the stretched Lincoln that glided toward the venue.
The banquet was set atop Tower A1 of the Baili Group—the tallest building in Guangshen and the conglomerate’s beating heart. When Lin Qiye had first arrived he’d spotted the skyscraper from afar: a terrestrial pillar spearing into the clouds, its summit lost in mist, height impossible to guess.
Four slightly shorter towers flanked it like satellites, the whole arrangement a modern castle with the sky-piercing central spire as the lord’s keep.
“So this is what rich looks like…” Cao Yuan sighed as the buildings loomed closer.
Jialan pressed to the window, eyes wide, mouth an O. To someone from ancient times, the sight was nothing short of divine.
The car halted at the main entrance. Chang Kangsheng opened the doors, and the four stepped onto a broad, brand-new red carpet. They straightened their ties, craned necks at the tower vanishing above, then strode inside.
Already, guests filled the lavish lobby, chatting and laughing. Gradually the voices dimmed; heads turned.
Four imposing, impeccable figures advanced along the crimson strip:
In the center, a handsome young man, back straight, gaze deep and calm;
On his left, a soft-spoken, bespectacled boy;
On his right, a girl in blue, skin like white jade, beauty that could topple kingdoms;
At the edge, a refined young man whose eyes carried a trace of menace, sweeping the hall and sending a chill through whoever met them.
The crowd murmured, asking one another who these scions of some great clan or corporation might be.
“Good evening. May I see your invitations, please?” The attendant at the door bowed.
Lin Qiye produced four cards. Surprise flickered in the man’s eyes, then he smiled. “This way, honored guests. The master has prepared a small gift for you…”