Huang Ling could barely remember what the musical had been about—only the shock of a group of muscular men dancing shirtless at the end.
She didn't snap out of it until the cast returned for their curtain call.
As the audience filed out, Huang Ling rose with her bouquet of gladioli in her arms.
The performance hall wasn't large, and the man standing against the flow of the crowd was all the more conspicuous for his looks.
Liang Wenpei's gaze was fixed directly on her, without the slightest evasion.
He was Song Mingyue's divorce attorney, so his presence here didn't surprise Huang Ling much.
"What a coincidence, Attorney Liang." Huang Ling greeted him, holding the flowers.
"Your eyeballs okay? I was worried they'd catch a chill, the way you were staring without blinking." Liang Wenpei gave a light snort.
"Appreciating the artistic plot," Huang Ling said without changing expression, making it up on the spot.
Liang Wenpei scoffed. "Then write me a five-hundred-word review so I can appreciate the art too."
Here we go again.
Hadn't she had enough grief at the hotel? Did she have to be lectured here too?
Huang Ling gave a dismissive hum, her tone carrying a hint of provocation. "Sure. I'll write it once you pass your teaching certification exam. Now move."
With that, Huang Ling took her flowers and detoured toward the backstage.
Song Mingyue's assistant led Huang Ling into her private dressing room. The assistant looked rigid and by-the-book, nothing like a typical agent or secretary.
Inside, Song Mingyue was removing her makeup. Gone was the listlessness from her days at the hotel—on stage she had been radiant.
Huang Ling walked in with a greeting and offered the flowers. "The performance was absolutely wonderful."
Song Mingyue's eyes grew a little misty at the sight of Huang Ling arriving with flowers. "Thank you. Do you have time later? We're having a celebration dinner—come join us for a drink."
Before Huang Ling could decline, Liang Wenpei walked in as well.
Song Mingyue took the opportunity to invite him to the evening's celebration. Liang Wenpei didn't agree, but his first instinct was to look at Huang Ling.
Song Mingyue assumed the two didn't know each other, so she made introductions: "This is my attorney, and this is Manager Huang, who took such good care of me while I was staying at the hotel."
Huang Ling turned slightly away, deliberately avoiding his gaze.
They'd dated for three years—didn't they know each other's temperaments and stubborn streaks by heart?
Liang Wenpei glanced around the room and changed the subject. "Did Mr. Tang's flowers arrive?"
Song Mingyue shook her head, her eyes full of reluctance and sorrow.
The celebration dinner that evening was held at a small bar nearby, apparently co-owned by one of the dancers and a friend. It wasn't open to the public that night, reserved exclusively for the whole troupe.
Huang Ling had never been fond of alcohol. Her only exposure had been a wine-tasting elective in college, where she'd spent a whole semester drinking red wine and still never acquired a taste for it—she only remembered sleeping especially well on class nights.
The bar mostly served cocktails and liqueurs, with names that weren't even trying to be sensible—things like "Letter from an Unknown Woman," "The Second Bottle in the Corner of the Convenience Store Fridge," and "The Tears You Shed the Day We Broke Up." Huang Ling read the menu horizontally, vertically, upside down, and right-side up seven times without managing to guess what any of the drinks actually were.
In the end, she just pointed at one at random.
The bartender was a long-haired man in post-apocalyptic-style clothing standing behind the counter.
He praised her choice: "Try it—you'll get that tropical fruit flavor and the punch of rum, and if you let it linger, there's the nutty sweetness of almond syrup."
Listening to him describe the drink, Huang Ling felt like she was back in the days when Liang Wenpei tutored her in calculus and explained that a problem had two methods of solution.
She couldn't taste any of it. All she got was the burn in her throat and the sense that the pineapple in her drink had died for nothing.
But when she looked up and met the bartender's eager gaze—like he'd found a kindred spirit—Huang Ling forced a smile and gave him a thumbs-up.
By the time Liang Wenpei finished discussing the case with Song Mingyue and found Huang Ling, she was already showing signs of drunkenness. Fortunately, she still had enough clarity to know where she was and who she was.
Huang Ling pointed at the menu overhead, trying to redirect the bartender's attention. "Want one?"
Liang Wenpei had driven here. He pressed down her raised hand, and from his angle standing beside her, the hair scattered across her back had all fallen to one side, revealing the slender line of her shoulders and neck.
"Had too much?"
"No." Huang Ling felt like the world was swaying slightly, like the time she'd secretly tried on her grandmother's reading glasses as a child.
Liang Wenpei looked at her now the way he'd looked at Pei Wenliang as a child—eyelids drooping but stubbornly refusing to admit she was tired. Maybe she really hadn't drunk that much, but he couldn't in good conscience leave her here alone.
"I'll drive you back."
Huang Ling didn't put up a fight. "Sorry for the trouble."
"She's willing to leave—guess she really hasn't had too much." Liang Wenpei grabbed her bag from the chair beside her, and seeing her stumble down from the tall barstool, he switched the bag to his other hand and reached out toward her.
"Just a little dizzy." Huang Ling waited until they'd walked a few steps before speaking, complaining quietly as if afraid of being overheard. "Mainly it's that the drink was terrible."
The bar was tucked behind the commercial street, where the surrounding shops all sat in cold, quiet stillness.
A sliver of moon accompanied the Summer Triangle and Antares, dotting the night sky.
A night breeze swept across the moat's surface, momentarily dispersing the tipsiness that had trapped Huang Ling. She looked at the greenery on the far bank—the trees reduced to faint silhouettes in the darkness, thick blobs of black.
There was a convenience store on the street corner. Huang Ling went in and bought a bottle of water. Whether it was the water or not, she felt a bit less nauseous. But as the alcohol diluted, that sinking feeling of loss and sadness crept back up, shrouding her heart.
Her eyes were special—her emotions always lived vividly and truthfully in them, so anyone looking at her could genuinely feel what she was feeling.
"Still upset about work?" Liang Wenpei unwrapped a lychee-flavored ice cream bar and handed it to her.
Huang Ling didn't bother checking whether the bench was dirty. She plopped herself down on the street-side seat, the plane tree leaves rustling around them in the night wind. She bit into the ice cream, frozen hard as a rock, unsurprised that he knew about her work situation.
She didn't need to guess—it must have been Pei Wenliang who told him.
But just thinking about how her screw-up had spread through the entire hotel made her feel stifled and embarrassed.
"It's hard to just brush it off lightly, isn't it?" Huang Ling sighed, feigning ease.
"Then cry," Liang Wenpei said, sitting down beside her. "Tomorrow when the hydrology bureau comes to measure the moat's water level, you'll give them a scare."
"Get lost." Huang Ling swung a punch at his arm, but immediately deflated afterward. She wasn't the type to resolve emotions with tears, but this was the first time she'd faced such a major setback at work. She felt like she could never outmaneuver Zhao Bing in a game of wits.
Liang Wenpei's gaze and attention had been on Huang Ling the whole time, sensing her mood spiraling. In the three years he'd been with her, she'd always been so positive and upward-striving—he'd never seen Huang Ling like this.
"Are you more upset now than when we broke up?" Liang Wenpei asked curiously.
Hearing his sudden question, Huang Ling took another bite of the ice cream and thought back to around the breakup. Back then, she'd been busy with plans to go abroad and busy with graduation—she really hadn't been that heartbroken.
No answer came, but in those few seconds of her silence, Liang Wenpei already had his answer.
A question he already knew the answer to. Liang Wenpei laughed bitterly at himself, then spoke with a deliberately carefree tone that couldn't quite hide its resentment: "Let's cry together, give the nearby residents a taste of living in an ocean-view apartment."
As if she were some heartless scoundrel.
"Didn't you also say we should break up? Were you sad about it? You still played basketball, and within days of the breakup you went to the debate club's mixer dinner. Did you think just because we weren't at the same school I wouldn't find out what you did? The city's trash cans should use you as their design inspiration—you're that good at holding things in." Huang Ling, emboldened by the alcohol, didn't care whether her words were harsh or hurtful.
Wasn't it because she'd also acted like nothing was wrong, like she'd never really invested in the relationship at all?
If he'd been like some lovesick fool—crying three times a day, eating once every three days—wouldn't he have lost?
He admitted he could be stubborn as a dead duck's beak. The July after the breakup, he'd gone to England to find her—he'd gone specifically for her, but when they met, he insisted he was just passing through.
He'd secretly grieved at night, so much so that Wen Hanchi was afraid Liang Wenpei would soak his private collection of beauty photos with tears.
He always remembered what Huang Ling had told him when he confessed his feelings.
She was going abroad in the future. She didn't do long-distance relationships.
If he could accept a relationship that had no future from the start, then she'd agree to date him.
Back then, Liang Wenpei hadn't thought that far ahead. Then the relationship went on year after year, and he gambled—gambled that Huang Ling might not be willing to let go of this relationship when the time came. But in the end, he heard from Luo Shuang that she planned to break up with him after their third anniversary.
So he sent the breakup text first.
Looking at the tipsy person before him, Liang Wenpei felt like he'd gotten drunk too, his mind heating up: "Because I was too proud to lose face."
His voice rose with his agitation.
Not far away was a park. After summer began, nearby residents walked their dogs, cycled, and exercised to cool off. Among the passersby, some cast curious glances their way.
That shout seemed to scare the drunkenness right out of Huang Ling. Feeling the eyes on them, she slapped Liang Wenpei's thigh: "Why are you yelling so loud?"
That was all she noticed—his volume?
Did she even know what he meant by what he said?
Baring his heart to a drunkard was like playing music to a cow.
"Eat your ice cream. When you're done, I'll take you home." Liang Wenpei turned his face away, as if thoroughly irritated.
The lychee ice cream wasn't overly sweet or cloying. Huang Ling ate it for a while, and finally, with the wooden stick—now tasting only of sweetness—between her teeth, she spoke slowly: "Are you trying to get back together with me?"
The sudden remark struck straight at his true thoughts—she really couldn't tell whether this man was drunk or not.
The prideful man stiffened his neck, refusing to look at her or nod.
Huang Ling stared at the back of his head. If it weren't for the reddening tips of his ears, she would have truly believed he didn't care at all.
"I'm not going to easily get back together with you." Huang Ling stood up and tossed the popsicle stick into the trash can.
Hearing this, Liang Wenpei's heart sank to the bottom—but his lawyer's keen instincts made him realize the words didn't sound like a rejection either.
Turning around, he saw Huang Ling, her eyes and nose slightly reddened, walking a bit unsteadily as she stood by the chair with her hands on her hips: "You've had things too easy. I need to make you suffer a little in love."
Had he had things easy?
If not for his father's oppressive parenting style, perhaps he could truly be said to have had things easy.
Liang Wenpei figured she was really drunk—the alcohol's aftereffects were kicking in, and she probably didn't even know what she was doing.
"Fine, I'll take it as you inviting me for coffee." Liang Wenpei stood up. "Come on, we're almost at the parking spot."
"Huh? Going to buy coffee?" Huang Ling looked at him suspiciously.
Really drunk.
Liang Wenpei, like some kind of trafficker, supported her and led her to the parking lot.
After getting in the car, she smacked her lips a couple of times, her hands uncooperative as she fumbled in her bag for her phone: "Ask them what coffee they want, I'm treating."
She probably thought she was at work. Liang Wenpei pressed her hand down, leaned over, and helped her buckle her seatbelt.
Huang Ling looked at the face that had come close to hers, leaned in, and planted a kiss on his cheek.
A kiss as light as a dragonfly skimming the water.
Liang Wenpei turned his head to meet her eyes. The drunk woman's gaze was clear and bright, with not a trace of guilt from her shameless behavior.
"Manager Huang, I must remind you—this counts as unlawful assault."
Huang Ling raised her hand, cupped his face, and giggled as she leaned in again: "Da Shun, come let Auntie give you a hug."
She was treating him like a dog?
A wet sensation spread across his cheek, while the culprit's consciousness drifted ten thousand miles away. No point in arguing with a drunk—besides, he didn't dislike her behavior. Liang Wenpei stared at her lips; the lipstick had smeared around the edges. She'd just kissed him, yet now that they were face to face, she made no move.
Liang Wenpei smiled: "Not kissing anymore?"
Huang Ling let her hands drop, tilting her head away: "Dogs eat anything, but I'm not kissing your mouth."
Liang Wenpei's temple twitched. He now suspected she was faking her drunkenness just to insult him a couple of times.
Under the influence of the alcohol, Huang Ling quickly fell asleep.
She didn't cause any more trouble the whole way.
Liang Wenpei parked the car downstairs and gently shook Huang Ling, but she still didn't wake. He had no choice but to walk around to the passenger side, bend down, and lift her out of the seat.
She was a bit light—carrying her took no effort at all.
He'd come once last weekend to the place she shared with Luo Shuang. In the past couple of years, when Wen Hanchi and Luo Shuang were still dating, sometimes when they had hotpot they'd invite him over too.
Liang Wenpei knew his way around, entering the elevator and pressing the floor number.
Getting out of the elevator, it was hard to open the door while holding her. Not knowing if Luo Shuang was home, he rang the doorbell. After a long while with no one answering, he was about to dig through Huang Ling's bag.
Half-drunk and half-asleep, she couldn't stand on her own. Liang Wenpei held her with one arm while using the other to open the door.
She was like a slippery loach—impossible to hold onto. As he moved, the neckline of her slip dress revealed a glimpse of skin. Liang Wenpei averted his gaze to the hallway ceiling, took a deep breath, and carried her inside.
Da Shun barked, seemingly realizing he was no match for the tall man entering the house, and slunk away with his tail between his legs into the dark bedroom.
Liang Wenpei hadn't even found the light switch when the next second a retching sound rang out, followed by a warmth spreading across his chest.
…
Her head hurt like it had been attacked by advanced calculus.
Her throat felt like she'd sung three concerts in a row. When Huang Ling opened her eyes, her mind was completely blank.
She tried to turn over but felt something heavy pressing down on her. Could it be Da Shun lying on top of her through the blanket?
Then she'd have to suggest to Luo Shuang that he needed to go on a diet.
She strained to lift her head to see what was pinning her down with a grip no less formidable than the Five Finger Mountain—only to see a sturdy, fair-skinned arm.
She moved her own two arms, confirmed that the arm pressing down on her wasn't hers, then slowly turned her head. A face with deep, striking features appeared abruptly before her—and it had several red marks on it that looked like lipstick prints.
Why was Liang Wenpei here?
Huang Ling felt her head ache even more. Could it be that she'd done something reckless while drunk?
Huang Ling didn't have time to think further—her bladder was already sounding the alarm.
She struggled out from under Liang Wenpei's arm. The person sleeping soundly in the pink bedding set, stirred awake by her movements, grabbed the pillow she'd vacated and hugged it as he continued sleeping.
The moment she opened the bathroom door, she saw a man's shirt and pants hanging there to dry, looking out of place. She sat on the toilet, desperately trying to recall last night's events, but to no avail.
Her skin felt sticky and uncomfortable, so she simply took a shower.
When she returned to the room wrapped in a bath towel, Liang Wenpei was already awake. He was covered by the blanket, two pillows stacked behind him as he half-leaned against the headboard, one hand running through his hair and the other holding his phone.
"Why are you here?"
Liang Wenpei's gaze shifted from his phone to her. Huang Ling looked down at herself, feeling as though he had X-ray vision. She turned around, opened the wardrobe, grabbed a set of pajamas, and went back to the bathroom to change before coming out again.
She repeated the same question: "Why are you here?"
Facing her interrogation, Liang Wenpei remained completely unruffled. "I brought you back last night. The moment we got inside, you threw up at the door—all over me. If I'd gone home in dirty clothes, I would've ruined my car. And if I'd driven home naked, I would've been arrested."
No wonder his clothes and pants were washed and hanging in the bathroom. Huang Ling pressed her temples, unable to recall any of it at all.
She looked at him again, feeling a bit guilty. "Can the vomit stains be washed off? If not, I'll pay you back."
The moment she finished speaking, Liang Wenpei sat up. The blanket that had been covering his chest slid down, revealing the well-defined muscles of his chest, waist, and abdomen. "No need for the clothes. But you kissed me six times last night. According to the criminal law—"
"Wait." Huang Ling's mind exploded in a daze. She forced herself to calm down. "I was drunk. I don't remember."
"Ex-girlfriend, as your lawyer ex-boyfriend and friend, I have a duty to remind you that drunk people who commit crimes bear the same criminal responsibility." Liang Wenpei shrugged.
It didn't seem like he was lying. Back in the old days during finals week, their dates usually consisted of sitting together reading and studying. She couldn't remember which year it was, but she'd glanced at his criminal law materials a few times, and there were indeed such provisions.
But she wasn't slow either.
Maybe not as smart as him, but years of experience in the service industry had made her quick on her feet.
"That's not right," Huang Ling said, growing alert. Then a flash of delight came over her as if she'd seen through a scheme. She narrowed her eyes slightly, looking exactly like a little fox that had successfully borrowed the tiger's might. "You're tall and strong, and I was drunk. How could I have forced six kisses on you? If you didn't resist, what were you doing?" She paused, then added with sly triumph, "You didn't resist—you were enjoying it?"