But today it was awake again. A variety of luxury cars pulled up at the entrance, red taillights flashing in turn. Heavy doors opened, and men in black tailcoats or evening suits stepped out, all in embroidered white shirts. Their slick, shiny hairstyles gleamed, and a white-gloved hand extended from the car, the silver wristwatch worn outside the glove. The men helped their partners out—fashionable women draped in fur and veiled, their slender heels tapping against the ground, their calves forming graceful arcs. White steam rose from the sewer grates, and the silhouettes of couples walking arm in arm towards the opera house formed a scene straight out of 1950s Chicago.
On this day, in front of the Civic Opera House, it was as if time had turned back sixty years.
A black Lincoln slowly pulled up in front of the opera house, its classic look and imposing presence catching the attendant’s attention. He hurried down the steps. The car window slowly rolled down, and a young, slender, defined hand extended a dark red invitation card.
“Mr. Ricardo M. Lu!” the attendant called out the unfamiliar name, as if welcoming a well-known count.
The driver stepped out, standing tall in a black suit adorned with gold-plated buttons. He respectfully opened the rear door, and a young man with blond hair climbed out, coldly scanning the arriving guests. His tall figure stood like a spear planted in the ground. He put on black sunglasses, covering his handsome face, and adjusted his striped shirt cuff to check his elegant IWC watch.
“This way, Mr. Lu, the auction is about to begin.” The attendant bowed to the young guest.
The guest coolly waved his hand, then turned to the silver Bentley behind him, slightly bowing as he opened the door, “This way, Mr. Lu.”
This ostentatious act stunned all the guests. It turned out that the imposing young man… was just the doorman!
The first thing the guests saw was a thick Cohiba cigar, followed by an expensive Armani tailored suit, a white lace cravat, and shiny Ferragamo shoes. Surprised expressions appeared on their faces, and the guest finally revealed himself fully. He made a conscious effort to stand tall, look arrogant, with a Burberry coat draped over his shoulder. He took a deep puff of the cigar…
Then began coughing violently… The blond young man quickly stepped forward to pat his back, while those around them let out snickers.
“Damn it!” Lu Mingfei cursed inwardly. He thought his outfit had no weaknesses. What were they laughing at? Wasn’t it just that he choked on the cigar? And wasn’t his imitation of Chow Yun-fat’s entrance stylish?
“They’re laughing because you’re wearing all the trendy big-name brands at once—your taste is too mixed. Don’t worry about it; that’s exactly how you’re supposed to be,” Anjou’s low voice came through the earpiece. In his nervousness, Lu Mingfei had almost forgotten about it.
“What kind of lousy persona is that…” The miniature microphone was hidden next to Lu Mingfei’s chin.
“No matter what you see, don’t show surprise. Just follow along,” Anjou was hidden somewhere in the background.
Lu Mingfei followed the attendant through a dimly lit corridor, the scent of perfume lingering in the air, the glimmering silver powder covering the bare shoulders of the fashionably dressed women. Lu Mingfei felt a little disoriented by the extravagant and illusory atmosphere, then suddenly, the space before him opened up.
He suddenly found himself exposed in an open space, golden light seemingly shining from all directions.
The full view of the opera house appeared before him, its opulence overwhelming. The surrounding columns soared like the ruins of the Parthenon in Athens, but painted in a magnificent dark red. The domed ceiling above was adorned with giant crystal chandeliers that banished all shadows, the golden ceiling and walls depicting the war of Ragnarok. The woolen carpet had a green mandala design, the red velvet seats were marked with brass plaques, and a crimson curtain hung on the stage, as if it would unveil some tragic work by an ancient Greek master.
He felt as if his eyes weren’t enough—he didn’t know where to look. In the boundless crowd, he felt completely lost.
He found his seat but couldn’t spot Anjou. The other guests around him began taking their seats, seeming to know each other as they exchanged brief pleasantries. The opera house wasn’t very large, but the hundreds of seats were all occupied.
The lights started to dim one by one until only the giant chandelier at the center of the dome was left illuminated. It felt like a performance was about to begin, and the attendants in white moved through the aisles, ringing chimes, prompting the guests to lower their voices. The curtain trembled, and a man in a black tuxedo walked onto the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sotheby’s Special Auction, the 2010 Summer Chicago Cultural Tour Auction, which will begin in five minutes. I am the auctioneer for this evening. Please hold onto your numbered paddles and don’t miss out on anything you have your eyes on, as everything we will be auctioning tonight is one of a kind.” He paused briefly. “And now, darkness falls, please close your eyes.”
What the heck? Lu Mingfei was stunned. Are they playing a game of “Murderer”? What’s with this “close your eyes in the dark and open them in the light” stuff? But everyone around him closed their eyes and slightly bowed their heads.
“Daylight has come, please open your eyes!”
Everyone opened their eyes at the same moment, and it was as if the opera house was once again brightly lit, but the light wasn’t coming from the chandelier… instead, it came from hundreds of pairs of golden eyes!
Lu Mingfei felt his heart stop.
“Don’t move or say anything, and don’t look around.” Anjou’s voice sounded in his ear.
“But those… those are… those are…” Lu Mingfei’s voice was almost a moan.
“Yes, they are real golden eyes. This is not a masquerade. They reveal their golden eyes to display their bloodlines. All those attending this auction are hybrids, just like you and me. This is…” Anjou paused, “a Dragon Feast!”
Lu Mingfei was grateful that there was a chair beneath him; otherwise, he would have collapsed like overcooked noodles, trembling.
What kind of situation is this… every distinguished guest here is a human-dragon hybrid! It seems that it’s not gold, platinum, or black cards that distinguish them here; it’s the golden eyes representing their bloodline. But he… he was terrified, his eyes wide open, red like a startled little rabbit.
A Dragon Feast? It sounds flashy, a gathering of half-dragons having a party in a dragon’s lair, right? Surely there’s a main course? These folks don’t strike him as vegetarians, and he’s the only little white rabbit here!