Lin An wondered: if he’d gone home to sleep earlier, would he have avoided getting beaten today? But some things could only stay as thoughts.

After his soft “Mm,” Su Yuejin’s smile bloomed—radiant, as if genuinely amused by something, though she’d asked the question herself and he’d answered earnestly.

“Really?” she asked.

Lin An gave a slight nod. He watched her seem to believe him—then she reached out with slender fingers, took the bottle from his table, poured into an extra glass, and dropped in an ice cube.

“Then let me keep you company for a few drinks? You look like you can’t finish it alone.”

“Sure.” He nodded, clinked glasses. Seated across, he met her gaze openly—no flinching, even at her beauty.

“Do you play dice?” Her eyes held a playful glint, like she’d found a mildly interesting toy. Lin An paused, then gave a light nod. “Not really. Knew a little back in the day.”

Su Yuejin summoned a waiter for two dice sets. They played thirty rounds; Lin An won five. That tiny victory made her laugh brightly. But he’d drunk heavily—his posture swayed slightly, unsteady.

“Can you still go?” Su Yuejin glanced at the empty beer bottles. A trace of disappointment colored her voice, edged with teasing challenge.

To her eyes, he took the bait effortlessly. “I can.”

“Real drinking isn’t beer. Cocktails?” She tapped the table lightly. Lin An rubbed his eyes, let out a soft burp, exhaled a puff of alcohol-scented breath—his gaze clearing.

“But these cocktails look expensive. If you expect me to treat you… I don’t have money,” he replied candidly.

“Not even one drink for me?” Su Yuejin sounded genuinely surprised.

“I’d love to put on a brave face, but I really don’t have much.” His tone carried a hint of apology. She covered her mouth, laughing, then lightly tapped his forehead.

“Then I’ll treat you. You can’t drink for free—I don’t like owing anyone.”

She called the waiter. Lin An noticed: dry martini.

A high-proof cocktail. He knew a bit about mixology. Was she trying to get him drunk? He met her eyes—surface-soft, yet holding that condescending, cat-to-mouse glint.

He read people well. And played dumb well.

Two martinis arrived. No dice this time. Su Yuejin pulled slender mint cigarettes from her clutch, lit one with a patterned Zippo spinning between her fingers.

“Want one?” A sidelong glance.

“I don’t smoke,” Lin An shook his head. Her hand settled on his shoulder. “Then—what do you think of girls who smoke?”

“Smoking’s smoking. No gender double standards. Just a personal quirk. Fine, as long as it’s not where it’s banned,” he murmured softly.

A faint smile touched her lips—then he added, “But smoking yellows teeth. Brushing won’t fix it. Long-term drinking and smoking cause bad breath. Tar ages skin early.”

She froze mid-motion. He quickly softened it: “But you’re young. Effects usually show around twenty-five. No need to worry.”

The barely-smoked cigarette suddenly tasted bland. Yet his eyes stayed clear, sincere. She blinked. “Are you… concerned about me?”

“Just a reminder. What I said—"

“But it relieves stress. Try?” She pulled the cigarette away—faint pink lipstick trace visible—and brought it near his lips.

He made no clumsy remark about shared smoke. Just shook his head. “No, thank you.”

She stubbed it out. “After that, I’ve lost the mood. I don’t smoke much—just a pack a week.”

“That’s fine. Minimal impact. Your body metabolizes it normally,” he offered gently. She didn’t question the truth. Smokers just need to believe it.

“Try this cocktail?” She twirled the lighter.

He sipped, nodded slightly. “Good base liquor. That’s why it tastes great.”

“You’ve had it?”

“I keep base liquors at home—Taobao bulk buys. Sometimes mix one for myself.”

“I see.” She sipped fast, downing half the glass.

*Cocktails aren’t gulped*, Lin An thought. He glanced carefully—saw a flicker of displeasure—but said nothing. Watched the dance floor with her.

“Which girl in the vibe crew do you think’s prettiest?” Su Yuejin asked, suddenly curious.

Lin An wouldn’t say “none compare to you.” He pointed: a girl in a modest white dress, fan in hand, swaying head and shoulders, hair tousled.

Su Yuejin saw right through him. “Like girls in white dresses?”

“I like the contrast.”

“Her image is gentle, but she’s not. That’s the contrast.”

“How so?”

“Saw her kissing someone in the dance floor earlier.” He sipped his drink.

Su Yuejin smiled. “Common here.”

“Mm-hmm.” He finished his glass. Truthfully, he wanted to leave—but the empty glass gave him pause.

“Another?” Her eyes crinkled; her skirt swayed gently.

“No. What you’ve treated me to costs more than those beers.” Honest.

She leaned closer. “It’s fine. You can treat me next time.”

“I don’t have that much money,” he replied plainly. A faint, pleasant perfume reached his nose.

She stilled. She rarely extended such invitations—and none had ever refused. It wasn’t about money. It was about allure.

Only then did she notice: his gaze held a strange, calming clarity. No desire. Real? Or feigned?

“Drink.” Her voice cooled, firm.

He nodded slightly. “If you wish, I’ll keep drinking with you.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you’d keep me company.”

Her lips curved. She signaled the waiter—two Long Island Iced Teas.

*Famous cocktail. Often botched in smaller towns. High-proof*, Lin An knew.

“Sofa?” She pointed to the empty VIP booth center-stage. Lin An hesitated. “Minimum spend’s 2,888 there.”

“That’s my spot. Follow me.”

She held her drink. Her other hand lifted slightly as he stepped down—a subtle arc. He saw it. Didn’t take it.

She withdrew her hand. They settled on the sofa—dance floor pulsing before them, DJ pumping energy, the bar buzzing.

Su Yuejin swayed gently to the beat. Lin An sat quietly, thoughtful—out of sync with the noise.

To speak, she leaned to his ear, shouting: “Are you unhappy?!”

He leaned close. “Not at all.”

—but his voice held a faint, unforced hint of grievance.

“Then drink up!”

She caught it. Suddenly wanted to offer care—like feeding a stray dog on the street.

“Okay.” He watched the DJ shout. After the cocktail, she ordered a dozen beers—card swipe. *A regular.*

They played dice until a blush warmed her cheeks. She stood, whispered near his ear: “Restroom.”

He walked her down. Gently, he looped an arm around her shoulders. Her thin-strapped dress revealed soft, cool skin.

She looked up, eyes hazy with wine and mischief. “Little rascal. Not well-behaved, huh?”

His gaze stayed clear—so clear she doubted herself. “Afraid you’d fall.”

He started to pull back. But Su Yuejin, on impulse—or amused by his sincerity—took his hand and placed it around her slender waist.

Truly slender. Soft. Delicate as a single handful.

“Keep it there.”

“Mm. Okay.” He nodded, gazing into her bright eyes. *Fireworks*, he thought. *Brilliant. Fleeting. Empty after.*

His eyes stayed pure.

Inside, he whispered:

…Silly, bad girl.