Chapter Seventy-Four: I've Had Too Much to Drink

Tang Zhichu truly hadn’t bought any drinks, so she let Jiang Lan go as she pleased. However, as Jiang Lan closed the door behind her, Tang Zhichu followed to the entrance and reopened it, leaving a small gap.

In the kitchen, Tang Zhichu began preparing the rest of the dishes.

There were only two of them, but Tang Zhichu prepared five courses: poached chicken, boiled shrimp, sweet and sour pork ribs with pineapple, stir-fried zucchini, and a cold broccoli salad. Double-layered milk custard was set aside as dessert.

Jiang Lan didn’t return quickly; it wasn’t until the vegetarian dish was all that remained to be cooked that the sound of the door opening came from outside.

Tilting her head, Tang Zhichu glanced out. As Jiang Lan happened to pass by the kitchen door, Tang Zhichu asked, “You didn’t get lost, did you?”

Jiang Lan grinned mischievously. “Nope. Do you have a decanter at home?”

Tang Zhichu washed his hands. He vaguely remembered there was one on the wine cabinet.

“You bought wine?” Tang Zhichu looked at the several bags Jiang Lan was carrying at the kitchen entrance, puzzled.

Jiang Lan swung her arms behind her back, as if reluctant to let Tang Zhichu take the bags. “The wine isn’t store-bought. Why would I buy wine? I got it from my car. The road was so dark—luckily, I ran into a cat...”

Tang Zhichu didn’t take Jiang Lan’s bags; instead, he went to get the decanter from the wine cabinet.

“You should’ve called me. It probably hasn’t been used in ages. Let me wash it.”

“No worries, I’m not afraid. You’re the chef—how could I send you on errands?”

While Tang Zhichu washed the wine set in the kitchen, Jiang Lan’s voice drifted in from outside, “Hey, are you good at drinking?”

Good at drinking?

There was no question about it in his past life, but after glancing at his own flat stomach, Tang Zhichu replied, “I suppose… I should be fine.”

“I’m not great either—can only handle a little. Besides, I tend to ramble when I’m drunk, so I tell people I can’t drink.” Jiang Lan’s voice appeared at the door.

Tang Zhichu was momentarily stunned. “Is that so?”

He handed the wine set to Jiang Lan and returned to cooking, his hands moving a bit faster now.

Vegetarian dishes never took long, and soon everything was ready. Ten minutes later, Tang Zhichu called out that dinner was served.

“Coming!”

Jiang Lan brought the dishes out, while Tang Zhichu tidied up the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the two sat side by side at the round table.

“Don’t touch anything yet—I want a picture.” Jiang Lan pulled out her phone.

Despite her stomach growling, Jiang Lan snapped several photos, and only after pouring the wine did she prepare to start.

Surveying the dishes on the table, Jiang Lan picked up a piece of poached chicken first. She didn’t dip the first piece in sauce; the crispness of the chicken skin was the initial sensation, followed by the pure flavor of the meat spreading across her palate.

“How is it?” Tang Zhichu asked.

Jiang Lan squinted in delight. “Delicious, really! It tastes a bit like home!”

Tang Zhichu smiled and finally picked up his chopsticks.

“Why did you go so far away?” he asked.

Jiang Lan replied between bites, “To start a business. I’m not like everyone else. They all head for coastal cities, but I went into the interior. I think opportunities aren’t just limited to the coasts anymore.”

“I saw your company’s annual report from last year. Marketing broke a hundred million—impressive.”

“It’s still early days. We’re making heavy investments again this year. I have a small goal.”

“What’s your goal?”

“Not telling you.”

After they’d sampled every dish, Jiang Lan finally raised her wineglass and smiled. “Thank you. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten so freely.”

After taking a sip, Tang Zhichu smiled. “Didn’t you say you lost weight running around? Eat more.”

Jiang Lan paused mid-bite, pouting slightly. “Then I won’t eat anymore.”

Tang Zhichu was startled. “Don’t! I was joking.”

“So was I.”

“Then keep eating. I made it for you.”

Jiang Lan shook her head. “Nope!”

“Why not?”

“You have to drink as punishment—because you talked nonsense!”

“All right, I’ll drink.”

Downing a small glass of red wine, Tang Zhichu licked his lips. He felt fine—surely red wine wouldn’t get him drunk?

Jiang Lan, face slightly flushed, withdrew her gaze. “Then I’ll have a drink too. Now we’re even.”

With that, Jiang Lan tilted her head back and finished her glass.

Setting her glass down, she muttered, “Honestly, you should have invited me to dinner ages ago. You owed me a meal since that date.”

Tang Zhichu silently pushed several dishes toward Jiang Lan.

Jiang Lan pushed the wine bottle toward Tang Zhichu in return, as if saying, “It’s up to you now.”

Uh...

Tang Zhichu poured another glass.

“Should I punish myself with another drink?”

Jiang Lan laughed. “I’m not that petty. Let’s eat and drink together.”

With wine, conversation flowed more freely. Tang Zhichu told Jiang Lan whose house this was, and talked about the relatives she’d met.

Telling Jiang Lan was also a way of talking to himself—his relatives from the Tang family were indeed all quite decent.

“So the person who came to talk to me that day was your aunt?”

Tang Zhichu nodded. “Yes. I meant to introduce you, but she refused, said being called ‘aunt’ made her sound old.”

Jiang Lan burst out laughing. “Your relatives are wonderful. It’s different on my side—everyone’s busy. We only get together for ancestral rites. Even at New Year’s, we rarely see each other.”

“That’s good too. Every family is different. If everyone’s busy, you get to rest during holidays. As long as people are there when you need them, that’s what counts.”

Jiang Lan thought for a moment. “That’s true. It’s just… the atmosphere’s not as nice.”

She raised her glass again, and they clinked glasses.

As they ate and talked, the wine slowly disappeared. Tang Zhichu felt warm—not drunk, but pleasantly tipsy.

He got up and brought over the double-layered milk custard from the fridge, along with a box of diced fruit.

“Dessert’s here. Pick whatever fruit you want to go with it.”

Jiang Lan stared at the milky, jelly-like custard in her small bowl, and her eyes reddened as if some memory had surfaced.

“I loved eating this as a child. My dad used to make it for me every holiday.”

Seeing Jiang Lan like this, Tang Zhichu moved a little closer. “You haven’t seen him in a while, have you?”

Jiang Lan cupped her face in her hands, feigning indifference. “He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Or as good as dead.”

Tang Zhichu didn’t ask further.

“I feel like I’m burning up. Is my face red?” Jiang Lan asked.

“A little.”

“Can you help me over to the sofa?”

Tang Zhichu nodded. Because Jiang Lan had rolled up her shirt sleeves to eat shrimp, when Tang Zhichu touched her arm, she indeed felt warm—and her skin was smooth.

“Sit here first.”

Instead of helping Jiang Lan up right away, Tang Zhichu gave a gentle instruction and went to the bathroom.

Soon, Tang Zhichu returned with a warm towel.

Jiang Lan really couldn’t hold her liquor—she slumped softly in the chair, her pale skin tinged with red.

Tang Zhichu took her wrist, drawing her closer, and used the warm towel to carefully clean off the bits of oil that napkins had missed—the residue from peeling shrimp.

Jiang Lan pouted; as she blinked, tears fell for no apparent reason.

“Wuu...”

Tang Zhichu was startled, stopping what he was doing. “What’s wrong?”

“I... I don’t know. I just feel like crying. I drank too much!”

Tang Zhichu chuckled, inspecting the now-clean hand and lifting it to her nose. “What’s there to cry about? Smell this—I used soap on the towel. Isn’t it fragrant?”

Jiang Lan stifled her sobs, her eyes glistening. “It is!”

This time, Jiang Lan was much more obedient, stretching out her other hand on her own.

But Tang Zhichu stood up. “Wait, the towel’s cold now. I’ll go warm it up again.”