Lü Shu sat at the table.
In his hand, he held a letter lined with gold.
...
[To Lü Xingdong:]
[We are very pleased with your appearance and traits, and have prepared the truth you desire. Tonight at eight o'clock sharp, garden villa No. 7, East District Plangres Street, we welcome your arrival.]
...
"Cuckoo, cuckoo." The wall clock chimed as it struck the hour, and the black blade was gripped, as the white-haired youth in black strode out the door.
Lü Shu lowered the deep gray bowler hat, the arc of the black attire cutting through the air, the night street full of tourists, his figure like an invisible ghost.
Knocking thrice, the gilded door opened wide, under the circular glass skylight, the red carpet resembling fresh blood.
