Chapter 259: Little Drunkard

Afterward, during the quiet dinner, Ye Qingfeng and Zhe were unusually silent, while Ling showed no effect at all, eating wildly without caring for her image.

As if the earlier incident had never happened, her wolfish devouring made chopsticks seem unnecessary.

Ye Qingfeng and Zhe both twitched their lips, exchanging a silent glance.

He’s never been this hungry before—why’s he eating like a starving ghost reborn?

Ling finally put down her chopsticks, patted her slightly swollen belly, looked up, sensed the tense atmosphere, and blinked with a clueless, innocent expression.

What happened? Did the police station call? The air feels so heavy...

“You two eat. I’m going to my room.”

Maybe this is how men talk—Ling rolled her eyes, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, said goodbye, and dashed off.

After all, it had nothing to do with her. If asked why she wasn’t afraid of Zhe...

She could only say: Smash oppression! Fight evil forces to the end!

Previously, their situations weren’t equal—Zhe could only swallow his words. Now that both have lovers, he wouldn’t use Ye Qingfeng as leverage.

As for what happened before dinner... so embarrassing, I wish I could just die.

Ye Qingfeng and Zhe stared at Ling’s retreating back. When the door shut, they simultaneously turned their gaze to the leftover dishes on the table, both stunned.

What the hell—tell us to keep eating, but at least leave some food!

“Want to go out for a drink?”

Ye Qingfeng gave a sheepish smile—he’d prepared enough food for three and a half people, worried they wouldn’t have enough. Ling devoured two portions in seconds; he and Zhe split the remaining one and a half.

Going to bed hungry isn’t good. Perfect—I’ll go out for some skewers with him.

“Let’s go.”

Zhe’s eyes lit up.

The two walked out side by side. The sky had just darkened; when they returned, it was deep night. They stumbled through the video store’s door, arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

They collapsed on the first-floor sofa, reeking of alcohol, holding half-finished bottles, still debating their unfinished topic, bursting into loud laughter when emotions peaked.

Half an hour later, Zhe was the first to succumb to sleepiness, his consciousness fading until he collapsed.

“Little drunkard! You said if you got me drunk first, you wouldn’t ask for a single coin of Ling’s bride price!”

“To make sure you don’t deny it, I Teyi —er—recorded it!” Ye Qingfeng belched, “Why’d I say that?!”

Seeing no sign of Zhe waking, Ye Qingfeng shoved him hard twice—he slept like a pig, completely unresponsive.

“Hey! Zhe, wake up! Go sleep in your room!”

Ye Qingfeng pushed himself up from the sofa, pulled out his phone, and took a selfie with the unconscious Zhe. He grinned broadly at the photo in his gallery.

“Now see how you’ll deny it...”

He staggered up the stairs, his thoughts chaotic, his mind fixed on one idea: take these two things to show off to Ling.

He ran into Ling just as she returned from the bathroom. The stench of alcohol hit her face. She frowned: “When did you get back? Where’s your brother?”

“We just got back. Zhe? He’s asleep on the first-floor sofa.”

Ye Qingfeng rushed toward Ling, phone in hand, forgetting his real purpose, wrapping his arms tightly around her slender body. His awareness sharpened, and he began boasting excitedly.

“I’ll tell you—he bragged he’d knock me out, but he drank less than me and passed out first!”

“What’s he pretending? No warning, just shuts his eyes and sleeps. Maybe he needs more practice!”

Ye Qingfeng rambled on, finally remembering his real goal. He shoved the phone into Ling’s arms, as if completing a sacred mission, then overwhelming drowsiness crashed over his mind.

He barely staggered into Ling’s room, walking in a crooked straight line, and collapsed heavily onto the bed, falling into deep sleep.

Ling had no time to check her phone. She rushed into the room, saw Ye Qingfeng sprawled on the bed, and hurried to his side to check his condition.

Asleep? Huh! He reeks of alcohol—so disgusting!!

She fanned the air around her, sat beside him, and picked up his phone. One photo caught her attention.

In the dim first-floor room, Ye Qingfeng grinned with a peace sign, behind him Zhe slept peacefully on the sofa, surrounded by empty bottles.

“Seriously—can’t you just throw this in the trash?”

Ling muttered, lips curled in a smile. After fiddling with the phone, she played a recording:

“Little brother! If you get me drunk tonight, you don’t have to pay a single coin of Ling’s bride price!”

“You promise?”

“Absolutely!”

“Alright—I’ll show off to Zhe-ge first!”

“Who needs you to help? Gulp-gulp—cough!!”

“That’s it?”

Ling listened silently to the entire recording, put down the phone, exhaled, turned her head toward Ye Qingfeng, and couldn’t help smiling.

“Seriously—you’re grown up, yet still playing such childish games.”

She complained aloud, but her hands moved without pause—gently peeled off his outer clothes, tucked him in, then suddenly dashed out of the room.

When she returned, she held a damp towel. She wiped his face clean, then his neck, then his body.

Her movements were careful, gentle, her eyes filled with quiet happiness.

When she finished, Ling collapsed from exhaustion, falling asleep beside him without realizing it.