They had Japanese food that night at Sakashima. There was a generous selection of sashimi, but Su Hao only tried one piece before losing her nerve. She stuck to shrimp and seaweed instead—the flavors were excellent.

 

Looking at the sashimi, Shen He thought to himself that it was a good thing they’d ordered only one portion. He ate it with barley tea. When Su Hao noticed, she even reached over to refill his cup.

 

“Haohao, you’re really good to me,” Shen He said, lifting the cup for a sip before sliding the daifuku toward her.

 

Su Hao took one and bit into it. The filling was matcha—slightly bitter—but the outer layer was soft and chewy, pleasantly sticky. Very good.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shen He glanced at the surrounding tables. Most of them were couples. Some were sitting close together, arms entwined, leaning on each other, even feeding each other bites of food. His throat tightened slightly as he swallowed the salmon.

 

He looked across at Su Hao. In the dim lighting, her features were gentle, but she was too calm—rarely showing the obvious shyness one might expect.

 

Or perhaps, since the day he’d met her, she had almost never been shy at all.

 

That thought made Shen He wonder if the problem lay with him.

 

He picked up his phone, about to type—

 

When two WeChat messages from Zhou Yang popped up.

 

He stared at them for a moment.

 

His gaze stopped on the words Liang Wine.

 

Liang Wine was the signature label of Huangliang Winery—a drink famed for its dreamlike intoxication. He’d always wanted to try it. And now, finally, there was a chance.

 

Alcohol, after all…

 

He read Zhou Yang’s follow-up message, hesitated, and lifted his head to look at Su Hao.

 

Alcohol…

 

That stuff could get messy.

 

Shen He cleared his throat and typed.

 

Shen He: Okay, send me the address. We’ll head over after dinner.

 

A second later, he typed again.

 

Shen He: Brother Zhou Yang, can I ask you something? How do you make a woman feel shy?

 

Zhou Yang: Sharing location.

 

Zhou Yang: That question? Heh. Take a guess.

 

Shen He: …You won’t say? That’s petty.

 

Zhou Yang: Come drink. I’ll tell you later.

 

Shen He: Deal.

 

He put his phone away and glanced at Su Hao. She was looking at her phone too. Liao Yun had sent her several old photos—more than ten years old, full of nostalgic warmth.

 

One stood out in particular: her hair loose, a small clip tucked by her ear, eyes squinting as she smiled—silly and pure.

 

It was a smile she probably couldn’t produce anymore.

 

She stared at it for a while, then suddenly remembered—it was the photo taken the first time she ever saw Zhou Yang. Back then, Liao Yun had been photographing her.

 

A silver sedan had driven along the muddy road and stopped behind the rice fields. Zhou Yang, wearing a black hoodie and jeans, had looked over with a grin. His hand rested on the car roof, a cigarette clearly pinched between his fingers.

 

That was when Zhou Yang was in his second year of high school.

 

“Haohao.”

 

Su Hao snapped out of it and looked up at Shen He. “Hmm?”

 

“You look kind of dazed,” Shen He laughed. “Want to go to the winery later?”

 

“The winery?”

 

“Yeah. Brother Li Yi’s place—the one from last time.”

 

Li Yi.

 

The man with the buzz cut.

 

Su Hao hesitated, checked the time. “Isn’t it a bit late?”

 

“No, it’s still early. I just want to check out a wine, have a taste. Then I’ll have the driver take you home.”

 

He looked genuinely eager. Seeing the light in his eyes, Su Hao didn’t want to dampen his mood. She nodded. “Alright.”

 

Shen He grinned, picked up a piece of sushi for her, then grabbed the bill.

 

After paying, Su Hao finished the remaining sushi, wiped the soy sauce from her lips, picked up her small bag, and followed him out.

 

When they’d arrived, it had still been light out. Now night had fallen, the city illuminated and dazzling. Thinking of the old photos Liao Yun had sent, Su Hao pulled out her phone and took several pictures of iconic buildings to send back.

 

One of them was Feijie.

 

Feijie’s short-video platform had been doing exceptionally well in recent years.

 

Liao Yun was always on that app.

 

She also photographed several tech giants’ headquarters and two major real estate companies.

 

Liao Yun: Wow, they’re really all based in Licheng. You’re making me want to move there too.

 

Liao Yun: That Changsheng building is huge—does it really have seventy-two floors?

 

Su Hao looked at the skyscraper disappearing into the clouds and honestly couldn’t tell. She got into the car as Shen He started the engine. Seeing her gaze fixed on the building, he laughed.

 

“Not seventy-two. Only fifty-three. Exaggeration.”

 

“Oh.” Su Hao nodded and replied to Liao Yun.

 

The car left the main road and headed toward Li Yi’s winery. It was located in the suburbs, sprawling and secluded. The winery wasn’t open to the public—used only to entertain business partners and close friends—so its collection was filled with exceptional wines. At night, backed by the mountains, the place carried a faint, elegant scent of alcohol.

 

A fenced courtyard stood at the entrance.

 

A yellow sign hung on the gate.

 

One word written on it:

 

Wine.

 

After parking, Su Hao stepped down onto the wooden floorboards. The air was sweet and fresh. Shen He locked the car, walked around the front, and led her toward the courtyard.

 

Several cars were already parked nearby. Before they even entered, laughter drifted out—loud and carefree against the quiet surroundings.

 

“Watch your step,” Shen He said softly.

 

Su Hao smiled and nodded, stepping carefully over the stone slabs. They climbed the stairs at last. Warm orange light spilled from inside—not too bright, but cozy.

 

In the center sat a large booth with four men and two women.

 

One man wore a black shirt and glasses, exuding an elegant roguish air. A beautiful woman sat beside him, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. Another man in a black top and jeans leaned forward, a cigarette between his fingers, a woman seated beside him as well.

 

Then there were Zhou Yang and Li Yi.

 

Zhou Yang held a deck of cards, a cigarette between his lips, shuffling lazily. His expression was rakish, eyes smiling as he teased the man in black.

 

“You lit it—why aren’t you smoking? Scared?”

 

The man raised his brows and snorted. “Of what?”

 

“Then smoke.”

 

“Zhou Yang,” Jiang Yu warned, glancing at the woman beside him.

 

Yun Lü blinked innocently, saying nothing—yet Jiang Yu still didn’t dare move.

 

Zhou Yang burst out laughing. “Just admit it.”

 

Xu Dian kicked the table lightly, casting Zhou Yang a sideways glance. “You really are something…”

 

Then suddenly, Xu Dian tilted his head. “Su Hao?”

 

He pronounced her name clearly.

 

Behind the glasses, a pair of peach-blossom eyes swept over her face. Su Hao froze. Who was this? She nodded instinctively.

 

“Hello.”

 

Her gentle voice carried straight toward Zhou Yang.

 

With a sharp snap, Zhou Yang closed the deck. Without looking, he stubbed out his cigarette, exhaled a smoke ring, then turned around.

 

“Here already?” His gaze swept over Shen He and Su Hao. “Come over.”

 

Shen He picked up a pack of cigarettes nearby and, like a junior paying respects, handed them out one by one. The group of handsome men couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Li Yi asked, “These aren’t wedding cigarettes, are they?”

 

Shen He coughed, glanced at Su Hao. “Not yet. Can’t I just be filial to you guys?”

 

“Sure—then use your own cigarettes,” Xu Dian shot back.

 

Shen He: “……”

 

A minute later, Shen He introduced Su Hao to everyone. She learned that the man with glasses was Xu Dian, and the woman beside him was Meng Ying—his wife.

 

Only then did Su Hao realize: this was the award-winning actress. She’d even seen her twins. She remembered Liao Yun once talking about their story.

 

Her gaze drifted briefly over Xu Dian’s overly handsome face.

 

Meng Ying smiled at her. Su Hao quickly smiled back.

 

The man in black was Jiang Yu, and the woman beside him was his wife as well. She didn’t look married at all—pretty and sweet. She waved cheerfully at Su Hao.

 

Her name was Yun Lü—straight out of a historical novel.

 

The seating consisted of six two-seater sofas. The two couples took one each. Zhou Yang and Li Yi occupied their own. Both sat with blatant arrogance.

 

Shen He arranged for Su Hao to sit with him. She didn’t refuse.

 

Zhou Yang set the cards aside and glanced at her. “How’s work been these past few days?”

 

“Not bad,” Su Hao answered softly.

 

“Nothing else you want to say?” Zhou Yang laid down a joker, tilting his head lazily toward her. His gaze skimmed over her neck, her bare-shouldered dress. Her collarbones were delicate enough to hold water, stark against the black fabric. Her skin was paler than the cards in his hand.

 

Su Hao froze. Looking into his narrow eyes, she sensed that he probably knew about the trouble she was facing at work.

 

She shook her head and smiled. “Nothing.”

 

“Oh? Alright then. Our Su Hao is pretty capable,” Zhou Yang said, seeing that she wanted to handle it herself.

 

He laughed, kicked Li Yi lightly. “Your turn. Why are you just staring?”

 

Li Yi shot him a meaningful look before finally playing a card.

 

Shen He asked, “Just the three of you playing?”

 

Yun Lü was apparently the landlord—and getting utterly crushed.

 

Shen He wanted to join in, but Zhou Yang tossed down the final joker, crushing Yun Lü’s hand. Then he picked up a dice cup and slapped it onto the table, every bit the boss.

 

“Alright then. Dice. A-Liang, go fetch the Liang Wine.”

 

A server polishing the wine cabinet nodded and headed toward the cellar.

 

Shen He tapped the table. “Dice?”

 

Zhou Yang looked at him with a smile. “You in?”

 

“Absolutely. Brother Zhou Yang, don’t underestimate my drinking.”

 

“Oh? Let’s see.”

 

Then he pointed at Su Hao. “You’re not playing.”

 

Xu Dian pointed at Meng Ying. “You’re not playing.”

 

Jiang Yu pointed at Yun Lü. “You’re not playing.”

 

Li Yi leaned back, smoking. “What, are you guys lining up now?”

 

He glanced at Zhou Yang again.

 

Zhou Yang toyed with the dice cup, not looking at him.

 

Su Hao didn’t drink well and had no intention of playing. She leaned toward Shen He and whispered, “Take it easy. Don’t you still have work tomorrow?”

 

Her tone was exactly the same as when she’d told him to drink water earlier—soft and gentle.

 

Zhou Yang’s hand paused mid-shake.

 

He reached up and tugged at his collar, lit a cigarette, and smoked. Soon the Liang Wine was served, the dice began to roll, and numbers were called, starting with Zhou Yang.

 

Li Yi, sitting next to him, called a high number.

 

But instead of following his lead, Li Yi deliberately called something else. The game continued around the table until it reached Shen He.

 

His next was Zhou Yang.

 

Backed into a corner with no numbers left to call—and unable to open—Shen He finally called Zhou Yang’s number higher.

 

Zhou Yang didn’t even hesitate. He lifted the cup.

 

“Open.”

 

Nothing.

 

Shen He lost and had to drink.

 

He froze, then laughed helplessly. “Brother Zhou Yang, you’re way too cunning.”

 

Zhou Yang leaned forward, cigarette between his fingers, smiling. “Just giving you a chance to drink. Didn’t you want to?”

 

“I did. Just not like this.”

 

He snorted and lifted the glass. The wine was intense. He glanced at Su Hao.

 

“If I get drunk, what then?”

 

Su Hao had already figured out the game and lost interest. Holding her phone, she answered seriously, “I’ll take you home.”

 

Zhou Yang shook the dice cup.

 

Casually, he said, “He has a driver. You don’t drive. How are you taking him?”

 

He flicked Su Hao a glance.

 

She shrugged.

 

Zhou Yang looked away, cigarette rolling between his teeth, unlit.

 

Shen He smiled, satisfied. “That’s fine. I’m not afraid of getting drunk.”

 

Before he could finish, Zhou Yang called the next number.

 

“Eight fives.”

 

Li Yi quickly responded, glancing at Zhou Yang again. A moment later, he picked up his phone and typed.

 

Li Yi: You’re pretty impatient tonight.

 

Two notification sounds.

 

Zhou Yang didn’t look. He focused only on the dice cup.

 

From there on, whether by instinct or bad luck, Shen He was targeted repeatedly.

 

The Liang Wine went down until he couldn’t even taste it anymore.

 

Soon, he was clearly drunk.

 

Seeing this, Su Hao quickly stood, walked over, and poured him a glass of water. The hem of her black dress brushed against Zhou Yang’s arm. He lowered his gaze, watching.

 

She placed the glass in front of Shen He and said softly, “Drink some water. Too much alcohol isn’t good.”

 

Shen He rubbed his forehead, nodded, and took a sip.

 

It helped.

 

Suddenly, Zhou Yang pushed the dice cup aside and leaned back, long legs crossed. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed, smiling faintly as he looked at Shen He and Su Hao standing there.

 

“Drunk already?”

 

Shen He half-opened his eyes, leaning against the armrest. After a moment, he said, “I can still drink.”

 

Stubborn.

 

Because he hadn’t won against Zhou Yang all night.

 

Zhou Yang smiled. “I’m done drinking with you. I’ll call the driver.”

 

He picked up his phone and made the call, asking the driver to come and take Shen He back to his Licheng residence.

 

The driver arrived quickly and went to help Shen He up. He was Shen He’s personal driver.

 

As Su Hao picked up her bag and followed, Zhou Yang’s voice suddenly sounded behind her.

 

“Su Hao.”

 

She stopped and turned.

 

The man bent to stub out his cigarette, scooped up his car keys, and said, “I’ll take you.”

 

Su Hao paused, then smiled. “You’d still need a designated driver—you can’t drive either. And I promised Shen He I’d take him home. I have to keep my word.”

 

She turned and left.

 

Zhou Yang stood there, stunned for a moment.

 

A few seconds later, soft sighs rose behind him. He snapped back, smiled, and sat down.

 

“Tsk. Forgot I drank too.”

 

“Did you?” Li Yi replied lightly.

 

---

 

Late at night, dew was heavy. Shen He was so drunk he could barely stay awake. The driver held him tightly. Su Hao followed behind, steadying him when needed.

 

Distracted, she didn’t notice where she was going.

 

A woman came clicking over in high heels and slammed straight into her shoulder.

 

The woman stumbled back, her heel stuck in the stone pavement.

 

“How do you walk?” she snapped, her voice sugary and sharp.

 

Familiar.

 

Too familiar.

 

Su Hao froze and turned her head.

 

She met Li Xiu’s flamboyant eyes.

 

Li Xiu snorted when she saw it was Su Hao—then noticed Shen He beside her. Her expression shifted several times before she finally pointed at Su Hao.

 

“You have to pay for my shoes.”

 

Su Hao looked down.

 

The red heel was stuck, the back clearly about to snap.

 

Shen He was in a hurry to get home. Su Hao had no choice but to nod.

 

“Alright. I’ll pay.”

 

“Open WeChat. Add me.” Li Xiu yanked the shoe free, pulled up her QR code, and shoved it forward.

 

Su Hao scanned it, added her, then hurried after the driver.

 

The car was already waiting.

 

Shen He was placed into the back seat, leaning against the window, eyes closed. He looked oddly childlike in sleep—features clean, his usual heir-like presence gone.

 

Su Hao got in and used a tissue to wipe the sweat from his temples.

 

The driver wiped his own brow, got into the driver’s seat, and started the car.

 

“Thank you for your trouble, Miss Su,” he said.

 

“It’s nothing,” Su Hao replied with a smile.

 

To the Wen family’s drivers, Young Master Shen was still just a child—protected by an accomplished sister and a brilliant older brother. No one had ever really thought about him falling in love.

 

So seeing him with Su Hao felt like harmless youth.

 

Besides, though Su Hao was only a year younger, she carried herself with a calm maturity that suggested she’d lived through far more.

 

The car drove toward Shen He’s apartment—a quiet place amid the bustle. It was in the opposite direction from Su Hao’s home.

 

Shen He was obediently drunk, only humming occasionally. Once or twice, he slid over and leaned against Su Hao’s shoulder.

 

She gently nudged him back.

 

He hummed again.

 

At the apartment entrance, the driver got out and opened the door. Together, he and Su Hao helped Shen He out. The momentum made the driver stagger slightly.

 

Su Hao hurried out, helped close the doors, and the driver nodded.

 

“Miss Su, wait here. I’ll take him upstairs, then come back and drive you home.”

 

“No need. I’ll take her.”

 

A black Porsche pulled up beside them. A low male voice sounded casually through the night.

 

Both of them turned.

 

Zhou Yang sat in the back seat, arm draped out the window, cigarette between his fingers, eyes lazy and amused.

 

When did he get here?

 

He leaned closer, resting his chin on his fist, smiling at Su Hao.

 

“The driver’s already exhausted. You’re really making him run back and forth? Besides, the road’s inconvenient. I’m heading back to Yiwanshui anyway.”

 

He raised a brow, voice light. “Unless you want to go upstairs and make sobering soup?”

 

Before Su Hao could answer, the driver spoke.

 

“No need to trouble Miss Su. The housekeeper will take care of everything. Miss Su should head back early.”

 

The words were simple, yet Su Hao sensed emotion in Zhou Yang’s tone—though she couldn’t tell exactly what kind.

 

She had planned to take a taxi anyway. Seeing the driver drenched in sweat, she turned to say goodbye.

 

Shen He was already asleep.

 

She smiled faintly, walked around the car, and got into the Porsche. There was the smell of alcohol inside as well.

 

Zhou Yang flicked ash, rolled up the window, and told the driver to go.

 

Su Hao checked the time—almost midnight.

 

“Late?” the man beside her asked quietly.

 

“Mm,” she replied.

 

He leaned back, not smoking. After a few seconds, he opened the ashtray and stubbed out the cigarette.

 

She noticed the veins standing out faintly on his neck.

 

The alcohol was clearly hitting him too.

 

Zhou Yang turned and caught her gaze, eyes drifting lightly to her bare shoulder. He smiled suddenly.

 

“What are you looking at?”

 

She frowned slightly. That familiar feeling surfaced again.

 

After a moment, she asked, “Bad mood?”

 

His gaze shifted away. He rubbed his brow.

 

“You guess.”

 

“Doesn’t concern me. I won’t,” she said flatly.

 

Zhou Yang: “……”

 

He tugged at his collar sharply, irritation faintly visible.