Watching Second Young Master Pei calm down the moment he touched a small object, Lian Qing felt a whole torrent of complaints bubbling up with nowhere to vent.
If he’d known it would be like this, he should have brought Qi Ji along before coming to the bar!
Still, for now, the situation was at least under control. It was late, so Lian Qing subtly gestured to Qi Ji.
Though Pei Yusheng had visibly calmed down, Lian Qing, still haunted by the earlier scene, didn’t dare speak. He simply signaled Qi Ji to take him away.
Qi Ji glanced at Lian Qing, then turned to the man holding him: “Shall we go?”
He withdrew the hand that had been resting on Pei Yusheng’s hair, intending to stand, but the man didn’t move.
Not only that, Pei Yusheng, sensing Qi Ji’s attempt to leave, tightened his hold around his waist, pulling him even closer.
Lian Qing watched, feeling like he hardly recognized his own brother anymore.
—Even when Lian Qing had dated, he had never clung to a girlfriend this way.
But what surprised him most was still ahead.
Qi Ji, seeing that Pei Yusheng wouldn’t let go, didn’t struggle. Instead, he gently patted Pei Yusheng’s back and said softly,
“Sir, it’s time to go home.”
Simple words, yet like a spell. Pei Yusheng finally moved.
He lifted his head from Qi Ji’s shoulder, stared at him intently for a moment, then released his arms and took Qi Ji’s hand.
Freed from the hold, Qi Ji stood straight smoothly, unimpeded. After squeezing each other’s hands, Pei Yusheng rose alongside him.
Though drunk, Pei Yusheng looked fine outwardly; he walked steadily. Qi Ji didn’t even need to support him—hand in hand, they went toward the door, one after the other.
Lian Qing, trailing behind, could only mutter, “…Is he drunk or not?”
Drunk, yet able to recognize people so clearly?
His own injured wrist started to throb again.
Finally, with them gone, Lian Qing breathed a sigh of relief. The room was left with just two people. Only now did he realize he was alone with someone he had previously avoided.
He hesitated, glancing at Fang Yangzhou.
To keep Pei Yusheng from drinking too much, Fang Yangzhou had apparently drunk a fair amount himself. Since earlier, he hadn’t spoken and seemed quite drunk.
But the usually motionless man seemed unsettled by Lian Qing’s gaze. Looking over, Lian Qing met a pair of dark, deep-set eyes. He quickly looked away.
He cleared his throat. “Third Young Master, you should head home too.”
Saying that, he turned to leave—but just as he reached the door, a sudden clatter startled him.
He looked back to see Fang Yangzhou stumble, barely catching himself on the table. Several bottles had toppled, and one empty bottle teetered, falling and shattering into pieces.
The crash of glass made Lian Qing’s heart leap. Instinctively, he rushed over, pulling the slow-reacting Fang Yangzhou away from the table.
Fortunately, the bottle was thick and broke into a few large pieces. The edges were sharp enough to cut, but no tiny shards flew out. Still, it was frighteningly close.
And Fang Yangzhou hadn’t even attempted to dodge—if Lian Qing hadn’t intervened, he might have been standing right over the shattering glass.
Lian Qing scolded him sharply, “Are you stupid? Didn’t you even try to dodge?”
Fang Yangzhou stared blankly, then slowly lowered his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmured.
The Third Young Master, usually calm and aloof, looked unusually subdued. Lian Qing, seeing him like this, was momentarily speechless.
…Forget it.
He averted his gaze, fanning his face to cool down. He couldn’t afford to match a drunk person’s antics.
“Can you walk on your own?” he asked.
Fang Yangzhou looked at him for a long moment, then sluggishly nodded. “Yes.”
Lian Qing: “…Yeah, right.” He could see the man was barely functional.
Grumbling, he scratched his head. He hadn’t intended to deal with Fang Yangzhou, but after rushing to prevent an accident and considering that the man had helped him by drinking to keep Pei Yusheng calm, he couldn’t just leave him. Besides, with all the empty bottles around, who knew what he might knock over next?
After agonizing for a moment, he gritted his teeth. “Hey, come here. I’ll help you out.”
Fang Yangzhou’s slow reaction remained; he didn’t mind being called “hey” and extended his hand.
Lian Qing inhaled deeply and grabbed his arm, intending to guide him out. He realized just how mismatched their strength was. With no other option, he draped Fang Yangzhou’s arm over his shoulders and half-dragged, half-supported him out.
The close contact couldn’t help but affect him. Lian Qing clearly caught a faint, cool scent from Fang Yangzhou, mixed with rich alcohol—a strangely intoxicating combination.
The last time they had been this close, Fang Yangzhou had dragged him out of a burning building. Lian Qing felt a flash of that fiery moment.
Back then, nearly on the verge of collapse, he had heard Fang Yangzhou say to him: “I love you too.”
Distracted, Lian Qing nearly tripped over a chair, saved only by his reflexes.
“You okay?” Fang Yangzhou noticed the movement.
“I’m fine. This way,” Lian Qing said hurriedly, guiding him on.
This time, he forced himself to focus. Unlike other drunkards stumbling and screaming, Fang Yangzhou was unusually compliant, only slow to react, following Lian Qing’s lead.
He even apologized for accidentally leaning on him: “Sorry, I might have been heavy.”
Lian Qing snorted. “You think that little weight could press me down?”
Yet when Fang Yangzhou couldn’t see, Lian Qing grimaced—this was genuinely a bit exhausting. He refused to admit he was physically weak, but supporting the man out of the bar left his back and waist aching.
And there was another problem: Lian Qing didn’t know how Fang Yangzhou had arrived. No car was visible outside, and asking him yielded no answers.
Unable to bear it, Lian Qing settled him into his own car.
Once Fang Yangzhou was in the back seat, Lian Qing exhaled, pounding his lower back from the strain.
But as the person in the back raised his head, Lian Qing immediately forced a nonchalant expression, pretending nothing had happened.
Yet Fang Yangzhou didn’t look at him. He cupped his fist to his mouth and coughed quietly.
Lian Qing’s heart lurched. Did he hurt him when he set him in the seat?
Intending to avoid more choking, Lian Qing moved to the back seat.
Fortunately, Fang Yangzhou’s coughing stopped quickly. The car smoothly headed toward the Fang residence.
No further struggles occurred; Fang Yangzhou remained quiet, even his breathing steady. A serene calm settled over the night.
At some point, Lian Qing couldn’t resist sneaking a glance. He realized Fang Yangzhou had already fallen asleep.
The city lights flickered past, illuminating Fang Yangzhou’s sharp, handsome features with a soft glow, lending warmth to his usual rigid lines.
Lian Qing stared for a long moment, only looking away abruptly once the car exited a tunnel, jolted as if electrocuted. His heart thumped wildly.
He wiped his face, trying to calm himself—but as soon as he closed his eyes, the image lingered.
…He had never noticed how long Fang Yangzhou’s lashes were.
Curled and beautiful, tempting to touch.
…What nonsense!
He shook his head, forcing the thoughts down. But soon, the car turned a curve, and inertia caused him to lean slightly. Reaching out instinctively for support, he accidentally pressed against a warm object.
He tried to retract quickly but only pressed harder, landing squarely on Fang Yangzhou’s thigh.
Damn. Even asleep, the man was sure to wake. Lian Qing groaned internally, hoping he stayed asleep.
His prayers went unheard. When he lifted his head, he met a pair of fathomless eyes.
Deep, unreadable, filled with emotions that words couldn’t capture. Even behind glasses, the gaze was piercing.
Lian Qing shivered under it, forcing a dry smile and preparing to apologize. But the voice that came from the man stopped him.
“Xiaoqing.”
Fang Yangzhou’s voice was hoarse, like sanded by something harsh, making it ache to hear.