The young man hesitated as he watched the two leave, but finally followed them.
Qing Yi started the car, and the young man got in and left Wu Garden.
On the way, Qing Yi and the drunk were chatting, while the young man could only sit in the back and listen.
Instead of going to a restaurant, they found a place that specialized in roast chicken. Qing Yi uncharacteristically ordered several cans of beer in front of the drunk with no intention of stopping him from drinking.
The drunk took the chicken leg that Qing Yi passed to him, looked at it, and then took a bite.
"Is it good?" Qing Yi asked.
The drunk smiled, "Not as good as the ones I make."
"You can cook?" Qing Yi was somewhat surprised and curious.
"I can only make roast chicken, nothing else. Even the noodles I cook aren’t tasty." But Ge Xin always liked them.
The morning Ge Xin became human was the first time he tried to cook noodles. He knew they weren’t good, but Ge Xin still ate them happily.
The young man beside them watched the drunk, and listening to his words, felt an unstoppable discomfort in his heart.
Will you be my unresolved concern?
But I don’t remember anything, what should I do?
"I’ve never heard you mention that," Qing Yi said, his expression somewhat forlorn, his eyes slightly wounded.
It was more than just not having heard about this; they had known each other for six years, yet he didn’t even know his real name. Meanwhile, he’s been foolishly in love with him. Isn’t that ridiculous?
The drunk wasn’t stupid; he heard the sadness in Qing Yi’s words but pretended to be oblivious.
He tilted his head back and took a gulp of beer.
He looked at the can and said, "Why does this beer taste so weak?"
"It’s because you’re used to stronger drinks, these ordinary beers don’t affect you anymore," Qing Yi replied.
"Is that so?" Fınd the newest release on novel~fire~net
The drunk responded and tilted his head back again for two more sips, yet still found the taste weak.
"Try not to drink too much tonight."
As he spoke, Qing Yi himself picked up a can and started drinking.
The drunk glanced at Qing Yi guzzling down the beer, set his own beer down, and silently started to eat his roast chicken.
He didn’t take another sip after that.
Because if he wasn’t wrong, he might have to drive later.
Qing Yi isn’t very good at holding his liquor—after two or three cans, he was already a bit tipsy.
He seemed preoccupied, and it looked as if he wanted to drink himself into oblivion, so he wouldn’t have to be as cautious as when sober. He wanted to dare to say a few words to the drunk.
So he kept drinking, and finally he did get himself drunk.
Qing Yi lay on the table, no longer conscious.
The drunk looked at the drunk Qing Yi with an expressionless face, but inside he was somewhat eager for the drunk Qing Yi to say something to him.
To say he was entirely eager was not quite accurate; of course, there was fear too.
Fear that Qing Yi would utter words that would leave him feeling guilty and indecisive; overall, his feelings were conflicted.
Qing Yi, who lay on the table, suddenly let out a stupid laugh, then tried to get up, searching for more alcohol on the table.
He picked up can after can, only to find them all empty.
Finally, he picked up the half-can in front of the drunk and gave it a shake.
Grinning stupidly, he said, "...there’s still some left."
As he spoke, he continued drinking.
The young man, watching Qing Yi and the drunk share the same can of beer, felt uncomfortable, it was a strange feeling.
Eventually, even that last half-can was gone.
Qing Yi belched, collapsed back onto the table, and began to doze off, muttering drunkenly to himself, "I’ve drunk so much, yet I still feel beer doesn’t taste good, but why do you like it so much?"
"I don’t remember what I looked like when I had my first sip of alcohol," the drunk looked at the haphazard array of empty cans, "but I will always remember why I drink."