Jiang Yisheng cradled his head in one hand, feeling as though the person opposite him wouldn't stop swaying. He slurred, "The alcohol, tastes good."
"Good alcohol…"
Ye Jiuliang saw Jiang Yisheng drunk for the first time and couldn't help but laugh.
Veya held her forehead, lamenting her unmanageable son.
"Ahai, help Asheng back to his room to rest."
"Uncle Jiang, let me do it. You continue with your meal." Feng Yi, who was closer, reached out and grabbed Jiang Yisheng's arm.
"Asheng, you're drunk. I'll help you back to your room to rest."
Jiang Yisheng stood up with shaky legs, unstable on his feet.
"I don't want your help." He shook off his hand, and without support, a wave of dizziness struck him.
He reached for the dining table, the heat on his face spreading to his neck, red as spilled blood.
Feng Yi was covered in metaphorical black lines, "…"
Was this the prelude to a drunken rampage?
