You Call This a Green Tea? - Chapter 8

He Zhen originally thought that when Sheng Junwen said Luyuan had a “low tolerance,” it was just a figure of speech. He didn’t realize it was a cold, hard fact.

Actually, you couldn’t really blame Zhuo Luyuan. He hadn’t planned on drinking at all since they were all close friends, but then Li Shangle, that walking disaster, had crashed the party. Luyuan felt obligated to have a polite glass.

Seeing that Zhuo Luyuan was already wasted and attempting to go for a second round with Li Shangle, He Zhen snatched the glass out of the drunkard’s hand. He clinked it against Li Shangle’s glass as a greeting. “I’m He Zhen. I just got back to the country. Let’s stay in touch.”

Without waiting for a reply, he tilted his head back and drained the glass in one go. His expression didn’t change at all—a stark contrast to the person swaying next to him.

With his drink confiscated, Zhuo Luyuan tried to grab it back, but even Sheng Junwen stepped in to block him. “Luyuan, stop drinking. Your face is beet red. Why don’t you head home first? We’ll stay with Young Master Li for a bit. I’ll get you a ride.”

Zhuo Luyuan made a fuss and refused to leave, but clearly, no one intended to respect his opinion. He Zhen, knowing they lived next door to each other, took over. “I’ll take him back. We live in the same neighborhood.”

It wasn’t just the same neighborhood; they were practically neighbors. Sheng Junwen agreed immediately. “Then I’ll trouble you to get him home.” He silently hoped Mrs. Zhuo wouldn’t be too angry, considering He Zhen was a guest who had just returned to the country.

It looked like the party was over for today. They’d consider this an introduction for He Zhen and plan the real gathering for next time.

He Zhen nodded, called his driver, and supported the drunken Zhuo Luyuan toward the exit. As they reached the door, He Zhen instinctively checked his watch. He hadn’t even been inside for thirty minutes.

Talk about a bar speedrun. Whatever.

Zhuo Luyuan was far from cooperative after drinking. He Zhen had to use some force to hoist him into the back seat and buckle his seatbelt to keep him from flailing.

Zhuo Luyuan looked at He Zhen with glazed eyes, still preoccupied with the party. “Drink… drink! Why’d we stop drinking?”

Before He Zhen could answer, Luyuan leaned in closer, tilting his head in confusion. “He Zhenzhen? Your… your pigtails… where’d they go?”

He Zhen: “…It’s summer. Too hot. I cut them.”

Luyuan’s reaction time was lagged. He paused for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Right. Summer’s hot.”

Everyone has a different “drunk personality.” He Zhen knew what he was like, but since his tolerance was high, very few people ever saw it.

Unfortunately, Zhuo Luyuan’s drunk personality was nothing like his usual temper. He wasn’t just chatty; his logic was like a wild horse that had broken its reins and was galloping aimlessly through the sky. Even his usually stoic driver couldn’t help but steal glances through the mirror.

Don’t ask He Zhen how he knew—it was just fate that his eyes met the driver’s in the rearview mirror at that exact moment.

Zhuo Luyuan refused to sleep. As the car entered the villa district, he covered his mouth and claimed he was going to throw up. He Zhen had no choice but to let him out, only for Luyuan to immediately claim he was fine and wanted to “go for a stroll in the breeze.”

He Zhen wanted to drag him back into the car, but Luyuan was like a lead-filled loach—heavy and slippery. Fearing he actually would vomit in the car if forced, He Zhen gave in and supported him as they walked slowly.

The evening breeze brushed against Luyuan’s face, clearing his head slightly. He Zhen took the opportunity to chat. “You don’t seem to like Li Shangle much?”

Zhuo Luyuan let out a silly giggle, but his words gave Li Shangle zero face. “My mom… doesn’t let me play with idiots.”

He Zhen: “…” He suspected that wasn’t exactly how Mrs. Zhuo had phrased it.

Still, compared to Luyuan, Li Shangle was a bit dim. Who in their right mind makes a bet over gifting money to a streamer?

He Zhen laughed. “Fair point. That ‘Beijing Circle Buddhist’ does seem a bit slow.”

If he had won, it would be one thing, but he lost, got beaten by his dad, and the streamer got banned. It was hard to say who was unluckier: the “Buddhist” or the Top Donor who won but didn’t really win.

Supporting the zigzagging Zhuo Luyuan, He Zhen realized within five minutes that this guy was high-maintenance.

Zhuo Luyuan wasn’t a “bad” drunk, per se, but he wasn’t a good one either. Luyuan knew his own limit: three drinks and he’d pass out. One drink, however, put him in the “energetic and semi-conscious” danger zone.

He Zhen didn’t know this. So when Luyuan struggled out of his grip and started belting out songs at the top of his lungs in the quiet neighborhood, He Zhen’s world went dark. He lunged forward and clamped a hand over Luyuan’s mouth, stifling the agonizingly off-key singing. He gave a sheepish smile to a suspicious-looking security guard and hurried Luyuan along.

Luyuan struggled indignantly. How dare this guy stop me from singing! My parents and grandparents used to love my singing!

He Zhen couldn’t win the argument and found the whole scene too embarrassing to continue. He steeled his heart and stopped trying to reason with the drunk. He hoisted the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and marched toward the Zhuo villa.

Luyuan had been wrestling with He Zhen when suddenly his feet left the ground. His head spun. It took him a few seconds to realize he was being carried like luggage. His pride was wounded—no one had ever treated him like this in his entire life!

He opened his mouth to curse He Zhen, but a gust of cold wind hit the back of his throat, making him nauseous. His anger was swallowed back down, replaced by a wave of queasiness. He could only wiggle and squirm on He Zhen’s shoulder to express his protest.

As they neared the villa, He Zhen finally let out a sigh of relief. He became more patient with the wriggling man. He set him down a short distance from the gate and steadied him—he didn’t want the Zhuo parents to see him carrying their son like a bandit.

Luyuan’s struggling didn’t stop even as he was set down. He stumbled, and He Zhen lunged to catch him. Because of the height difference, He Zhen’s right hand ended up landing squarely on… uh, Luyuan’s backside.

Zhuo Luyuan’s sobriety returned in an instant. He leaped three meters away, his face flushed as he covered his rear. He pointed a trembling, humiliated finger at He Zhen. “And you still claim you don’t have designs on me!”

He Zhen stared at his own right hand, feeling like even a bath in the Ganges wouldn’t wash away this stain. His defense sounded weak even to his own ears: “Sorry, it wasn’t on purpose. I was just trying to steady you, I just accidentally…”

“Shut up! I don’t believe you! You even took a candid photo of me for your Moments!” Luyuan had known he was good-looking since he was a kid; this just confirmed He Zhen’s “ulterior motives.” He took two more cautious steps back. “It’s impossible for me to like you! Give up now!”

He Zhen was experiencing what it felt like to be “unable to clear one’s name even with a hundred mouths.” He instinctively tried to explain: “I am a very direct… person. If I liked you, I wouldn’t use such a ‘groping’ method. You’re drunk. I’m seeing you to your door, or I won’t feel at ease.”

He had started to say “I’m a straight man,” but slammed on the brakes as the System’s warning shrieked in his head, frantically pivoting the sentence.

“Really?” Luyuan didn’t think He Zhen looked like the groping type, but he had met all kinds of people—especially “pervy” ones. He walked ahead, turning back every two steps to check on He Zhen. A short walk took them ten minutes.

Finally, He Zhen saw the butler coming out to receive him. He gave a complex nod to the man and turned to go back to his own house next door.

Inside, Mrs. Zhuo rushed to her drunken son. “Who were you drinking with? Was it the Sheng boy again? You know you can’t handle it!”

Luyuan breathed a sigh of relief now that he was home. “No one… just He Zhen and the others. Took him to meet the group. Wasn’t going to drink, but Li Shangle showed up, so I had one.”

Mrs. Zhuo knew about Li Shangle’s disgrace; the scandal was so big that even the neighborhood security guards knew. She sighed and patted his back. “You should have called. I would’ve had the maid cook some hangover soup. Yuan-yuan, don’t learn from those boys. Little He seems very upright; don’t go leading him astray.”

Luyuan gave a perfunctory nod, muttering internally: Mom, your “upright person” was just eating your son’s tofu at the front gate. Upright, my foot.

He was going to take a very long shower tonight.

When He Zhen got home, his mother was still awake. Noticing the faint scent of alcohol, she guessed Luyuan had taken him out. Nothing bonds people faster than a few drinks.

She handed him a glass of warm honey water. “Drink this. You had a few?”

He Zhen took a sip. “I didn’t drink. Zhuo Luyuan got wasted; I just picked up the smell from supporting him.”

“Luyuan?” His mother remembered he couldn’t hold his liquor. Mrs. Zhuo used to worry about how he’d handle business meetings. “The boy has a low tolerance. You’ll have to look out for him more when you’re out. Drinking too much isn’t good.”

“Okay,” He Zhen nodded obediently.

His mother smiled. “Back then, Shuyi (Mrs. Zhuo) used to tell me how well you and ‘Yuan-yuan’ got along. She said if you were actually a girl, we could have arranged a marriage.”

“Yuan-yuan?” He Zhen’s attention snapped to the nickname. “His family calls him that too?” He thought it was just a scripted line for “He Zhenzhen.”

“Of course,” his mother replied. “That’s his childhood name. I thought you knew; you used to call him ‘Yuan-yuan Gege’.”

He Zhen thought back to the incident at the gate. A suspicious silence fell over him.

He really is quite “Yuan” (round).