Part 3
Wen Rong retracted the tip of his tongue, pursing it hard to spread out all the bitterness before he could barely speak: “Senior, this… isn’t lemon water.”
“Of course not. This is a Mojito.”
“Mo…”
Wen Rong tried to repeat the name, but failed. The word was too unfamiliar; he couldn’t say it accurately.
“Mojito. A cocktail made by mixing white rum, soda water, mint, and lime.”
“I thought it was lemon water.”
“That boy would be sad. The meaning of this drink is romantic love, yet you thought it was lemon water.”
Wen Rong: “……”
“But you ordered fresh fruit juice for him at a bar. He should understand you are still a child.”
The lighting in the box was brighter than outside, a dim yellow. Leon propped up half his face with his hand, eyes curved into a line, smiling as he spoke.
Wen Rong felt a helplessness of wanting to explain but not knowing what to explain, scratching his head in resignation.
Leon: “Is it your first time drinking alcohol?”
“I’ve eaten liquor-filled chocolates.”
“Heh—why don’t you say you’ve eaten fermented glutinous rice balls.”
Zhou Xie today was exactly like an annoying pest on the side, mocking occasionally to make people uncomfortable.
Wen Rong didn’t know how a burst of anger arose. He pushed the Mojito in Zhou Xie’s direction. “Then you have it.”
Zhou Xie lowered his chin to glance at him. “Drunk?”
“The alcohol content should be substantial. With so many customers, this place wouldn’t dare dilute the alcohol with water.”
So it’s because of the authentic ingredients.
Wen Rong nodded, his doubt answered.
“But it was only one mouthful. Shouldn’t be enough to get drunk.”
Wen Rong nodded again. “Not drunk.”
He really wasn’t drunk. He could see the Senior and Zhou Xie clearly. Standing up, he turned a circle on the spot, confirming he could walk normally too.
It was just that every ten seconds or so, his brain would go into a trance.
He remembered the text about Wu Song fighting the tiger and instantly felt admiration.
To be able to drink alcohol so heartily in big gulps, and fight a tiger afterwards. Wu Song was truly amazing.
“Wen Rong, the performance is starting downstairs.”
The voice drifted through his brain like wind, leaving nothing behind. Wen Rong raised the glass, unexpectedly finding only half remaining.
How is there only half left?
Oh, told Zhou Xie to drink it just now.
There is still half left, what to do…
Wen Rong developed some little ideas. He passed the rim of the cup toward Leon. “Senior, do you want a taste?”
“Pfft—”
Wen Rong stubbornly repeated: “Senior, do you want a taste?”
“If you can’t finish it, don’t drink it.”
“Senior, do you want a taste?”
“You’re drunk.”
Wen Rong wasn’t sure. He stood up by himself, wanting to walk around to see if he was really drunk.
But just as he stood up, thud, he fell back into the chair.
Heat rushed out from his collar, baking Wen Rong’s face.
In an instant, the singing, the Senior’s voice, the noise of the crowd acted like a lullaby, making his eyelids heavier and heavier.
Wen Rong recalled his childhood. Once it rained, and he didn’t bring an umbrella. When running back to the welfare home, he was soaked through.
Many children suffered the same fate. Several girls even fell, their knees covered in blood.
The Dean and the aunties were busy treating the girls’ wounds, having no time to attend to others. Wen Rong sat on the stairs to the side with the other kids, waiting quietly. Waiting and waiting, until the rain stopped and the sky turned dark.
It felt just like this back then. Heat rising from the collar, cheeks baked scorching hot, brain lucid for a while, then in a trance for a while.
Opening his eyes again, he was in the hospital. The doctor said he had a fever from the rain and needed to drink plenty of water.
Fever…
Right.
Wen Rong suddenly snapped to attention. “Senior, I have a fever. I want to go to the hospital.”
“You don’t.”
It was just a statement, but the Senior denied it. Wen Rong got anxious. “I really have a fever. A fever can’t be delayed, it will burn me stupid. Before, a kid was burned stupid and got thrown at the welfare home entrance by his mom and dad.”
“Drink water?”
Wen Rong remembered the doctor saying to drink plenty of water for a fever, so he nodded. “Yes, yes, a lot. Drinking a lot of water cures the sickness.”
“You don’t have a fever.”
So weird.
Senior is being a bit annoying.
But Wen Rong chose to trust the Senior. Guessing since the Senior insisted so much, maybe he really didn’t have a fever.
To check, he raised his hand to touch his forehead—scorching hot, palms sweating from the heat.
Wen Rong gained confidence and reached out to pull the Senior. “Senior, touch it. I really have a fever.”
“Got it.”
Wen Rong flexed his five fingers, blinking hard while holding up his empty hand, wanting to confirm if he really grabbed the Senior just now.
He remembered grabbing him.
Then why is my hand empty?
Ah! He hasn’t proved to the Senior that he has a fever yet.
Wen Rong reached out to grab the Senior’s hand.
A bit anxious, he leaned his head in too.
“Hiss—what are you doing?”
“Senior, touch my forehead. I really have a fever.”
“…”
The air was silent for a moment. The machine stuck in operation in the void returned to the origin.
He hasn’t proved to the Senior that he has a fever yet.
Wen Rong reached his hand out, and simultaneously, something finally stuck to his forehead.
He let out a breath. “See, I really have a fever.”
“Get up.”
Wen Rong shot up straight. He heard singing outside, very dynamic music, completely different from the performance during club recruitment.
So noisy.
So noisy.
Wen Rong covered his ears, unable to bear it. “Senior, that song is so noisy. Don’t want to listen anymore.”
“You insisted on coming.”
“Sorry.” Wen Rong lowered his head gloomily, then suddenly became happy again. “Senior, your home is here. Take me home! Back to your home.”
“What are you going to my home for?”
“Um…” Wen Rong habitually raised both hands to pat his cheeks to sober himself up. “Because I like Senior. Want to go to Senior’s home.”
“Then can Senior kiss you?”
The surroundings fell completely silent, as if a window had closed, shutting out all the noisy music.
“Senior, I have a fever. If you don’t believe me, touch it.”
“Fever?”
His bangs were lifted. Tiny electric currents came from the hair roots.
Wen Rong couldn’t help trembling, feeling the illusion of being chilled to the bone.
A piece of ice landed between his eyebrows, quickly melted by the excessive temperature, turning into a water drop falling down.
Following the bridge of the nose to the tip.
It tickled. Wen Rong couldn’t help turning his head sideways.
He happened to rub against something, and the itch on the tip of his nose unexpectedly stopped.
He felt comfortable, lifting his neck to rub against it some more.
The sound of friction was dense and fine. Occasionally pulling the lips apart, the upper and lower lips popped open, emitting a crisp “bang.”
Inside the room, it was quiet. The bedside lamp printed shadows on the wall, two shadows entangled.
Suddenly, Wen Rong backed away, slapping his face hard with both hands, muttering loudly: “Cannot indulge, cannot indulge, cannot indulge…”
“Wen Rong, do you have a fever?”
A virtual switch controlled the stuck machine, clearing the memory with one click.
Wen Rong reached out to grab the Senior. “Senior, I have a fever. If you don’t believe me, touch it.”
“It is a little hot.”
“I want to drink water. Drinking water won’t burn the brain bad.”
“Then sit properly.”
Wen Rong immediately sat upright, habitually placing both hands on his knees.
It was just a bit strange. Why are my knees soft?
“Cannot touch randomly.”
Wen Rong tilted his head, not knowing why the Senior said that. “Why?”
“Open your mouth to drink water.”
“Mn.”
There was no water.
The Senior kissed his open mouth.
Attention dissolved by alcohol slowly gathered. A bolt of lightning suddenly struck in the pitch-black brain, illuminating thoughts that were eager to move.
For a few short seconds, Wen Rong’s heart beat wildly, becoming a rapidly expanding balloon, pressing against his chest so hard he couldn’t breathe.
This feeling was too intense. He instinctively turned his head to dodge, but a hand held his cheek, forcing him to turn back.
His lips were sucked again.
Wen Rong’s body was also sucked, like standing before a gloomy, wet wind tunnel. The wind dragged his body forward, especially his head. Cold hands pulled his jaw, finger pads sticking close to that soft flesh behind the ear—a poisoned dizziness, an itch.
Hot wind continued to pounce on his face. Wen Rong had to close his eyes.
The wind didn’t stop, drilling into his mouth, bypassing the tip of his tongue, knocking against his throat.
Thump thump.
Thump thump thump.
Ba-dump ba-dump.
Heart beating like thunder.
At a certain moment, Wen Rong’s body lightened, and his back pressed against something.
Thinking it was a bed, he tilted his head back, leaning on a pillow.
He just didn’t know why this bed was very hard. Lying on it wasn’t comfortable; it was more like a slide, forcing his body to fall.
The dull brain took a few seconds to figure out this wasn’t a bed. The Senior just stuck him to the wall like a sticker, limbs suspended in air, completely and thoroughly buckled in.
In the chaotic mind, he suddenly thought of a snake. Slippery, agile, entangling the prey to death upon catching it, opening its mouth wide to swallow it into its belly.
The terrifying image plunged his body into dreadful trembling. Wen Rong waved his fists wildly, struggling to bend his legs to block in front, but couldn’t find a leverage point, and was easily coiled tight again, unable to move a muscle.
Until the snake, holding something soft and slippery in its mouth, broke in again. Sweetness melted, and fear scattered along with it.
Silent night. The snake left wetly.
Morning, 5:00. Sunlight climbed up the window, filling the tidy room.
Wen Rong sat up mechanically from the bed. Just as he wanted to get off, his temples throbbed with pain, forcing him to fall back onto the bed.
“Brother?”
【Host, I am here.】
“My head hurts so much. I’m sick.”
【Host, this is a hangover.】
Oh, I drank alcohol last night.
Wen Rong understood and completely relaxed.
Supporting himself on the bed to sit up again, he shook his head and insisted on getting up.
【Host.】
“Mn?”
【You still remember what happened last night, right?】
“Um… huh?”
Wen Rong blinked, recalling following the System’s reminder.
When the memory reached the moment his body was no longer under control, his brain buzzed, and he was completely dumbfounded.
The heat brought by the sunlight made his face turn red instantly.
“Brother, Senior and I…”
【Host was drunk, and the System was in a disconnected state, but your mouth is broken. It’s very obvious.】
My mouth is broken!
Wen Rong was startled. Hunching his back, he stumbled to the bathroom. Sure enough, in the mirror, his mouth was bright red, and his lower lip had split open.
It must have bled; even the lip lines couldn’t hide such a big wound.
Knock knock knock.
A knock on the door suddenly sounded. Wen Rong looked out the door warily, having the illusion of a thief being caught. He shrank his neck, not daring to move.
“Wen Rong, are you awake?”
It’s okay, it’s Senior.
Wait, Senior???
Wen Rong’s shoulders curled inward, his back pressing timidly against the wall.
“Wen Rong, can I come in?”
“No—”
Click.
Without waiting for Wen Rong to finish, the door handle was turned.
Wen Rong subconsciously wanted to reach out to close the bathroom door, but the moment he touched the handle, he met Leon’s eyes.
Like being poisoned, his body couldn’t move anymore.
“Does your head still hurt? You drank a whole glass of alcohol last night.”
Wen Rong trembled slowly, watching helplessly as Leon approached. His lips were perfectly intact, not even swollen.
Leon: “How did your mouth get broken?”
Wen Rong: “Last night…”
Two voices sounded together, both hearing clearly what the other said.
Wen Rong: “Ah?”
Wen Rong watched as Senior Leon came closer, his azure eyes reflecting his own terrified face.
The two were very close, but not that close. In the chaotic memory, there was a moment closer than now, at least the tip of his nose was pressed until it hurt.
Leon narrowed his eyes, his smile fading, expression becoming serious. “What happened last night? How did you bite your lip?”
“Ah?”
“I’ll go get you some medicine. The post-match interview is a global live broadcast. You’ll affect the shot looking like this.”
“Wait, Senior—”
Wen Rong’s brain didn’t have that many functions. He couldn’t think about last night while thinking about the Senior’s question and considering work all at the same time.
One thing at a time.
One thing…
Wen Rong took a deep breath. “Last night…”
“Mn.”
“Last night…”
“What happened last night?”
Wen Rong discovered with sorrow that he couldn’t ask it. He lowered his head in depression.
How do I ask? Did you kiss me last night? We seemed to kiss for a long time. Is my mouth your doing…
Couldn’t ask at all.
“You want to ask who brought you back last night?”
Wen Rong nodded blindly. “Mhm, mhm.”
“Last night I got a call from the research base and had to leave first. It was Zhou Xie who brought you back.”
Wen Rong’s eyes suddenly rounded.
That means—
Last night it wasn’t the Senior, but Zhou Xie?!
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