Translator:	Author:	Original Source:
MJCross	Cat’s Glasses	SFACG

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The tranquil Japanese ambiance ended at the entrance, giving way to a sophisticated British aesthetic. Slow, elegant jazz music filled the air, exuding an aristocratic charm—fitting, considering the nature of this bar.

But there was no live band performing. The smooth jazz was coming from an old-fashioned gramophone, a vinyl spinning slowly on its turntable.

It was only three in the afternoon, still early, so the bar wasn’t particularly crowded. For Xiao Lei and me, however, this was the perfect time to move.

From our vantage point near the entrance, we scanned the entire hall—the seating areas, the dance floor—but there was no sign of those post apocalyptic style delinquents huddling together.

They were probably in the private rooms, but knocking on each one would definitely raise suspicion with the staff. The best approach was to ask the bartender.

But how?

Asking if there was a “blond-haired male customer” would be useless—I’d only be directed to some random person, because Lei Laohu wasn’t a man anymore. And even if I wanted to find the female Lei Laohu, I had no idea what she looked like now.

“Hold up, Commander—where are you going?”

Haitang’s voice cut through my earpiece as I headed straight for the bar.

“Uh… I was gonna ask the bartender about Lei Laohu?”

“Are you stupid? You’re gonna blow your cover that fast?”

I hesitated.

“Think about it—why would a bartender risk pissing off a big-spending regular for some random new customer?”

Ah.

Yeah. I’d been too naïve.

I thought I could just slip him a generous tip and he’d quietly give me information. But of course that wouldn’t work. Even though I couldn’t see her, I could feel Haitang facepalming in frustration.

“…Then what should I do?”

“Step one: become a customer. You need start spending to blend in. But don’t go to the bar—bartenders love to chat, and you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Get a booth instead.”

The moment we made a move to sit down, a smiling waiter rushed over, menu in hand, and eagerly led us to a booth—one that wasn’t too dimly lit.

As expected from a high-end bar, the leather seats were plush and luxurious, ridiculously comfortable.

“What can I get for you two?” the waiter asked.

I reached for the menu, but Haitang’s voice stopped me.

“Commander, don’t bother. You won’t understand a single thing on that menu. It’ll just freak you out.”

Before I could react, Xiao Lei picked it up.

“Wow—”

Snap.

She immediately shut the menu.

“Yeah, nope. Everything is some fancy multi-colored cocktail or imported liquor. I can’t read a single thing.”

So it was that bad, huh?

Not being able to understand the menu was, in itself, a flex. If someday I finally understood it—and someone else didn’t—would be the day I could truly flex on people.

The waiter suppressed a chuckle at our struggle.

I shot him a look, then coolly ordered, “One Margarita, one Martini, and a platter of these assorted fried snacks.”

That last part was a limited-time special advertised on the table display.

As for the Margarita and Martini?

I had zero clue what they were. I just parroted whatever Haitang told me.

“Those are two classic low-alcohol cocktails,” she explained. “Every bar has them, so they’re safe picks—less risk of getting something nasty.”

Then she added, “I also Baidu-ed¹ it.”

The waiter nodded. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all. We just stopped by for a quick rest.”

“Understood. That will be 178 yuan. Will you be paying by card, QR code, or cash?”

Eh? Do bars operate on prepayment?

“Call me sir. And I’ll pay by card.”

The price was… weirdly in-between.

178 yuan for two cocktails and a snack platter felt expensive for me, but cheap considering the high-end atmosphere. After all, you pay for the environment, too.

The waiter blinked.

“Sir…?”

He furrowed his brows, tilting his head as he stared at me.

Only after an awkwardly long pause did he realize how rude he was being, and quickly apologized.

Even as he walked away with the POS machine, he still looked confused as hell, probably headed to the bar with a storm of question marks hovering over his head.

…Come on, dude. Was it really that hard to tell? I was wearing men’s clothes!

Maybe I should start working out.

At the bar, a low-ponytailed bartender expertly shook her cocktail mixer. Looked like it’d take a while.

Xiao Lei rested her chin on her hand, watching me curiously. “Okay, so we ordered. Now what?”

I opened my mouth to answer—then stopped.

Ah. She was asking Haitang.

“You guys have a great vantage point. Just watch both exits to the private rooms. Once you’re done eating, order more. I refuse to believe that, out of a dozen people, not a single one will come out. This is a bar—they have to use the bathroom at some point.”

Good point. That post-apocalyptic leather jacket gang had highly recognizable fashion sense—if they stepped out, we wouldn’t miss them.

Before long, the waiter returned with our drinks—one bright blue, one soft pink. Very aesthetically pleasing.

…But.

These portions were tiny.

“Regarding your order,” the waiter said, setting the glasses down. “Our bartender took the liberty of making a few adjustments. This is a Blue Margarita, and this one is a St. Valentine. We hope you enjoy.”

The names of the drinks were as complex as ever.

Margarita? No clue.

But St. Valentine—that, I knew.

Saint Valentine was a Catholic priest who secretly officiated marriage for young couples, defying a decree that banned marriage. He was executed for it.

To honor him, people later established Valentine’s Day on February 14—thus making his name synonymous with love.

I scratched my cheek, feeling awkward as hell.

Luckily, Xiao Lei had no idea what it meant.

As long as I kept my mouth shut, I’d be the only one suffering in embarrassment.

“St. Valentine? Are you guys even on a mission right now?! This is starting to look like a date!”

Ah.

Right.

We couldn’t physically see her, but Haitang was here.

With her encyclopedic knowledge, too.

“A d-date?”

Xiao Lei froze mid-sip, her tongue just barely touching the St. Valentine cocktail.

As Haitang’s words sank in, her face flushed red, her movements turning noticeably shy.

She shrunk into herself, nervously twisting her fingers together, glancing up at me with wide, uncertain eyes.

“…Now that you mention it… it does feel kind of like a date…”

What.

What was this adorable little creature?!

“WHAT IS THIS ADORABLE LITTLE CREATURE?! HOW DID SHE EVEN TURN SO CUTE?!”

That wasn’t me—that was Haitang losing her mind in my earpiece.

“By the way,” the waiter suddenly interjected, “at 5 PM, we’re hosting a special solo performance. If you have time, I highly recommend staying—it’s free! That singer might not be famous yet, but our boss has a great eye for talent!”

…Excuse me?

That entire infomercial-length speech—was from the waiter? You’re still here?!

I mean, sure, advertising is fine and all, but could you at least read the damn room?!

From the way he described it, the performer was probably some aspiring singer. It wasn’t unusual for bars to invite unknown artists to perform as a way to liven up the atmosphere. In return, these gigs helped support their careers—a kind of mutual benefit deal.

But usually, they wouldn’t call it a “solo concert”…

“Thanks, I got it. We’ll go offer some support if possible.”

A future celebrity, huh?

That kind of hype was pretty good at hooking curiosity.

“Miss Lingmeng, don’t forget why you’re here.”

Haitang’s sharp warning came through the earpiece.

I paused for a moment then only realized.

‘Miss Lingmeng’ was referring to me now.

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten. Aren’t we just waiting for Lei Laohu’s lackeys to show up?”

And, as if on cue, the moment I finished speaking, a guy with slick-backed hair wearing a face mask wobbled out from the private room corridor, heading for the restroom.

This dude wasn’t actually named Cao Cao²
, was he?

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