“I’ve got something to deal with and can’t make it. I’ll treat you all to drinks next time.”
After saying that, Xing Yu hung up and put his phone away.
Wen Yao felt dizzy and lightheaded, her whole body burning with heat. She wanted to wash her face to clear her head, but her limbs wouldn’t obey her.
“I want to wash my face… it’s so hot…”
Xing Yu looked at Wen Yao, who was already quite drunk. Leaving her here was definitely not an option.
A drunk woman could easily run into trouble.
“I’ll take you home.”
He tried to remove her hands from around his waist, but drunk people weren’t exactly cooperative. Even someone as seemingly gentle as Wen Yao was no exception—she clung tightly to his waist and refused to let go.
“Wen Yao, let go!”
“No.”
In her drunken state, Wen Yao didn’t realize she was hugging a man’s waist. She thought she was holding onto a wall, and that someone was trying to drag her away.
Out of instinctive caution, she assumed anyone trying to take her away wasn’t a good person, so she tightened her grip.
Xing Yu stared at her for a moment. That bit of strength meant nothing to him—like a child’s.
With ease, he lifted her up and strode out.
Inside the private room—
Zhang Wenbin noticed Wen Yao had drunk two bottles of fruit wine. He glanced around and didn’t see her, so he stood up and walked out.
Spotting a waiter nearby, he asked about Wen Yao’s whereabouts and headed straight toward the restroom.
At the restroom entrance, Zhang Wenbin waited for quite a while but didn’t see her.
He stopped a passing staff member.
“Could you please go in and check if Wen Yao is inside? She drank too much—I’m worried something might happen.”
Hearing that, the staff member immediately agreed.
“Okay, I’ll go take a look.”
“Thank you,” Zhang Wenbin said with a smile.
Not long after entering, the staff member came back out.
“Sir, there’s no one inside.”
Zhang Wenbin’s expression changed immediately.
“That’s impossible. Someone saw her go in—check again.”
“Sir, there’s really no one. I already checked.”
Zhang Wenbin frowned. Where could Wen Yao have gone after getting drunk?
The driver had just lit a cigarette when he saw President Xing returning. He quickly stubbed it out and threw it into a nearby trash can, then opened the rear car door.
Xing Yu carried Wen Yao into the car, his movements effortless—as if he weren’t holding a grown adult at all.
After closing the door, the driver sat in the front seat and looked at the rearview mirror.
“President Xing, where to?”
“Jingxiang Old Street.”
Xing Yu placed Wen Yao on the seat and leaned over to fasten her seatbelt. But she suddenly grabbed his arm.
“Where are you taking me? I want to get out.”
He looked up and saw the panic and fear in her eyes.
Thinking of how she had recently been followed by a drunk man, her caution made sense.
“I’m taking you home. Let go first.”
At the word “home,” Wen Yao quieted for a few seconds, then suddenly asked,
“Who are you?”
“I’m your boss,” Xing Yu replied.
“You’re not.”
Xing Yu noticed that the drunk Wen Yao was different from usual. Normally, she was respectful and even a little afraid of him.
Now, she didn’t seem afraid at all.
In that way, she resembled Wen Yao from before.
“Then who do you think I am?”
The dim overhead light cast shadows over his sharp features.
The image overlapped with her memories, and Wen Yao blurted out,
“You’re Xing Yu.”
Xing Yu paused. It was the first time he heard her call his full name.
He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, but her voice sounded very similar to Wen Yao’s.
Wen Yao frowned, her head pounding.
“No… you’re President Xing.”
Xing Yu assumed she was just muttering drunken nonsense. He fastened her seatbelt and sat upright, only to notice her sliding down the seat—she was too thin.
After helping her sit upright, she slid down again after a while.
He had already noticed earlier how soft her body was—just like Wen Yao’s.
After a moment of thought, Xing Yu unbuckled his seatbelt, pulled her over, and let her lean against him.
When she sat alone, she was relatively quiet. But once placed beside him, she started struggling again, as if resisting being close to someone.
Her movements were unconscious—her hand pressed against his leg, then moved toward his groin.
Xing Yu let out a muffled grunt, grabbing her wandering hand. With his other arm, he wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly in place.
His grip was strong, like iron clamps, leaving her unable to move.
Their bodies pressed close together. The familiar orchid fragrance mixed with the peachy scent of alcohol filled his senses, making Xing Yu feel as if he, too, were becoming intoxicated.
Not only was Wen Yao’s body hot—he also began to feel heated, especially where she had touched him. The more he tried to calm himself, the stronger the reaction became.
Xing Yu suddenly felt his throat go dry.
When they arrived at Jingxiang Old Street, Xing Yu lifted the drunken Wen Yao in his arms and strode into the alley.
The alley was no longer pitch dark—streetlights had been installed, making it much brighter.
Carrying her, he climbed up to the fifth floor without breaking a sweat. Standing at the door, he looked at the mechanical lock, then lowered his gaze to the person in his arms.
She leaned against his chest, eyes closed—he couldn’t tell if she had fallen asleep.
“Wen Yao? Where’s your key?”
Hearing him, Wen Yao slowly opened her eyes, looking around in a daze. The place felt familiar.
Xing Yu repeated, “Where’s the key?”
After a while, she responded, “In my bag.”
Xing Yu glanced at her shoulder bag. He lifted one leg slightly to support her legs on his thigh, freeing one hand to open her bag.
There wasn’t much inside. He spotted the key immediately.
With his slender fingers, he took it out and unlocked the door smoothly.
After pushing the door open, he pulled out the key, carried Wen Yao inside, and shut the door behind him.
It was his second time entering her rented apartment—and it still felt cramped.
He carried her into the bedroom and laid her flat on the bed. Just as he was about to straighten up, a hand grabbed his collar, forcing him to remain bent over.
The only time Wen Yao had ever drunk alcohol before was back in university—when she had been pressured by classmates.
Seven years later, she was drunk again—this time in summer.
“So hot… I feel so uncomfortable…”
Xing Yu looked at her flushed cheeks, as if seeing the Wen Yao from years ago.
After drinking, her face would look just like this—like a blooming pink peony, fair skin tinged with a soft blush.