Chapter 87: A man three parts drunk, pretending until you cry

After the meeting ended, Chairman Jiang gave Jiang Jibai a look, and Jiang Jibai, sensing it, followed Chairman Jiang into the chairman's office.

As soon as Chairman Jiang sat down, he coldly scolded, "Everyone else mutes their phones and doesn't look at them in meetings—are you the exception?"

Jiang Jibai sat down lazily and said nonchalantly, "What's wrong with looking at my phone? They don't even know what I'm doing."

"……" Chairman Jiang smiled and spat out one word: "Get lost."

"Sure." Jiang Jibai stood up and walked out directly.

At that moment, the hotpot shop owner had already sent over the photo; Jiang Jibai glanced at it, pursed his lips, and replied: 【Not as handsome as Xiao Wu.】

As Zhou Yinhe's childhood friend, how could I not give face to my good brother?

—

Wen Ling was stuffed from this meal; the two kept taking turns putting food on her plate, and if she ate from one pair of chopsticks but not the other, she'd get glared at.

As she left the hotpot restaurant, passing the fat boss seeing them off at the door, Wen Ling whispered, "Next time don't put out so many communal chopsticks."

The fat boss held back his laughter watching them leave.

After getting in the car, Zhou Yinhe slumped and asked, "Where else do you want to go?"

Lu Zhaoye propped up his leg, nonchalant, "Whatever; if we don't want to go anywhere, we'll just go to Lang Po Wan."

"……" Zhou Yinhe forced a smile: "Sit tight, we're leaving now."

"Hmph." Lu Zhaoye raised his chin and chuckled.

Wen Ling rubbed her forehead, not wanting to hear their conversation; she just wanted to go home, on her own.

By nightfall, Zhou Yinhe took Lu Zhaoye to Nys, opened a private room, and the two started drinking and competing; Wen Ling silently sipped her juice until they were drunk.

She sent Lu Zhaoye back to the hotel, then drove his car to bring the drowsy Zhou Yinhe back to Lang Po Wan.

After finally helping Zhou Yinhe back to his room, Wen Ling let out a deep sigh.

Zhou Yinhe blinked open his eyes, pursed his lips, grabbed Wen Ling's hand, and whined, "Why won't you talk to me?"

Wen Ling was pulled by him to the edge of the bed, she lowered her gaze and stared at him in silence.

"Are you angry?"

"I love you so much."

"Baobao, wife, I love you."

"You can only love me; you can't be nice to anyone else, only to me."

Wen Ling's forehead was full of black lines, she gritted her teeth and snapped, "Stop pretending."

Truly, a man three parts drunk, pretending until you cry.

Zhou Yinhe felt even more wronged; he rubbed against her, hugged her, buried his face in her soft belly, and hoarsely begged, "Call me, call me Baobao, quick."

"Call me, call me Baobao—I love it when you call me Baobao."

Wen Ling exhaled, ruffled his curls, and resignedly said, "Baobao."

Zhou Yinhe, satisfied, kept rubbing against her; his hand sneakily slipped under her shirt from behind, gradually moving upward.

Wen Ling grabbed his hair and yanked it back, threatening, "Stop messing with me; if you keep it up I'll get angry."

Zhou Yinhe blinked; his eyes and cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and he pouted, "I just want to touch."

"No way." Wen Ling pinched his cheek, amused, "Don't you ever get tired of this?"

"I want you." Zhou Yinhe's eyes glittered with a rippling light; he sat up, knelt on the bed, and leaned in to kiss Wen Ling. She half‑closed her eyes, thinking of his grievances, and let him have his way.

Lu Zhaoye lay on the bed, squinting at the fancy chandelier overhead; a crystal tear slid down the corner of his eye into his hair, and he lifted his arm to shield his eyes.

What's the use of being childhood sweethearts for over a decade?

He exhaled, got up, went into the bathroom, splashed a few handfuls of water on his face, lifted his gaze to the mirror, and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

It's useless either way; anyway, I can't let Zhou Yinhe have it easy.

He picked up his phone to call Wen Ling, and after a long wait the other end finally answered.

At that moment, Wen Ling was tangled in Zhou Yinhe's limbs, unable to break free no matter how she struggled.

"The phone……"

"Never mind." Zhou Yinhe seized her hand and forced it onto her head; Wen Ling turned her head to avoid his kiss, glanced at the phone flashing on the pillow beside her, and stammered, "Stop… hurry up."

Zhou Yinhe lifted his eyes to her, followed her gaze to the phone, suddenly curled his lips into a smile, picked up the phone, answered, mischievously turned on speakerphone, and held it to her ear.

His eyes were full of malice; Wen Ling didn't have his thick‑skinned cheek, struggled to hang up, but he grabbed her wrist again.

"Wen Ling, tomorrow keep me company for breakfast."

Lu Zhaoye didn't notice Wen Ling's oddness and went on, "There are still lots of places we haven't played; you have to come with me tomorrow."

Wen Ling opened her mouth, but Zhou Yinhe covered it and answered for her, "Sure, big brother‑in‑law; wait for us at the hotel, we'll pick you up tomorrow morning."

Lu Zhaoye: "……"

The voice on the other end of the phone was hoarse and lazy; he's no little kid—how could he not hear the oddness hidden in Zhou Yinhe's tone?

Lu Zhaoye's face darkened as if water could drip from it; he hung up immediately, stood there for a long while to compose himself, then finally had the strength to return to the bedroom.

Wen Ling was furious; after it ended she lifted her foot and kicked Zhou Yinhe under the bed.

She shouted, "Get out!"

Zhou Yinhe fell to the floor unprepared, gasped; at first he was still excited and didn't think much of it, but the moment he moved he felt a huge pain in his waist.

"Lingling, my waist hurts…" He really couldn't get up, gritted his teeth against the pain, and squeezed out a few words from between his teeth.

Wen Ling at first thought he was faking it, until she heard Zhou Yinhe's painful groans and moans, then she got up to take a look.

Zhou Yinhe's face turned white, he clenched his lower lip tight, and it truly startled Wen Ling.

She hurried out of bed to help him up; Zhou Yinhe took big breaths, waved his hand, and said, "Don't help me, call an ambulance."

Wen Ling trembled all over with guilt, hurriedly got up to fetch her phone, after hanging up she put on her clothes, then with difficulty dressed Zhou Yinhe.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know……" Wen Ling shook, her hand trembling, afraid to touch him again, her eyes red.

Zhou Yinhe endured the pain looking at her, seeing she was about to cry, he reached out to take her hand, comforting: "It's okay, it's okay."

"Once my waist heals, we'll continue fighting."

He still had the mind to joke, Wen Ling had already burst into tears, she raised her hand to hit him, then bit her lip and withdrew.

The ambulance arrived quickly, medical staff lifted the stretcher upstairs, together they placed Zhou Yinhe on the stretcher and carried him downstairs.

Wen Ling took her own phone and Zhou Yinhe's phone, then hurried downstairs.

At the hospital, the doctor held the X-ray, asked the cause, then only said it was a slight misalignment and would be fine once it returned, Zhou Yinhe heard this and relaxed his breath, but Wen Ling couldn't hold back and cried out.

"You scared me to death, it's all your fault for insisting on provoking me; if it weren't for you, this wouldn't have happened."