"Get up and tidy up right now, or Aunt Yao will beat you to death if she sees you."

Fang Nan shuddered as he recalled the chaotic scene of Yao Ying beating someone.

Song Hengjue slowly raised his head, his eyes blurry with drunkenness, and managed to make out who was in front of him. He slurred, "She went back to Hai Province with someone else and hasn't been around for a while."

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Fang Nan's shoulders slumped instantly, and he lay sprawled on the sofa, eagerly trying to bite off a bottle cap. "I'll have some too."

The old lady wouldn't let Song Hengjue drink alcohol, and Fang Nan didn't dare to drink at home either. Ever since the old lady moved in, he hadn't had a drink at home in ages, and he was really craving it.

Song Hengjue remained silent. If it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest, Fang Nan would have thought he was dead.

"What's this?" Fang Nan pushed aside the black box next to him, met a pair of green-glowing eyes, and almost threw the box away. "Holy crap!"

"My son." The man on the sofa finally moved, covering his eyes with his hands.

"Huh? What son?" Fang Nan asked, feeling uneasy about Song Hengjue's voice. He took two steps closer and probed, "Did you and Yang Qingheng have a fight?"

Besides this reason, he couldn't think of anything else that would make Song Hengjue, that heartless, shameless, damned capitalist, drink alcohol at home.

"I said, this is Yang Qingheng's son!" Song Hengjue said angrily, jumping up from the sofa and grabbing him by the collar. "I told you to investigate Yang Qingheng, and you can't even find this out!"

Fang Nan touched his nose guiltily: "Yang Qingheng keeps talking about her son, how would I know it was a cat? I can't just go to her house and squat there."

On the contrary, you're always following behind others, and you don't even know this.

"It's no use!" Song Hengjue said in a muffled voice, forcefully pushing Fang Nan until he stumbled.

"Yang Qingheng and Tang Bainian don't have any children, so wouldn't it be easier for them to get a divorce? Why are you making that sour face?" Fang Nan pouted and casually drank a glass of wine.

"What do you know, you single dog?" Song Hengjue said in a muffled voice, looking at the cat on the table. He felt even more upset, his nose tingled, and he almost burst into tears.

Fang Nan was stabbed and almost lost his temper, cursing as he went upstairs.

What an idiot! You're addicted to being a sucker, aren't you? You've gone mad.

Yang Qingheng opened Song Hengjue's door with her key, and was immediately hit by the strong smell of alcohol. She looked at the man on the sofa speechlessly and said, "It's one thing not to go to work, but to stay at home drinking. It stinks."

Fang Nan was worried that something might happen to Song Hengjue, so he kept an eye on him from the second floor. He only felt relieved when he saw Yang Qingheng arrive. He waved and went into the room: "The hangover medicine is in the first compartment of the TV cabinet."

Yang Qingheng was also annoyed by the mess, and kicked Song Hengjue's foot: "Drinking so much alcohol, you're just making things difficult for people, who can stand you?"

It was already past nine o'clock at night when we got them into their rooms and settled them in.

Yang Qingheng looked at the drunk man on the bed, sighed helplessly, told Tang Bainian that she was working overtime outside, and covered him with a blanket while cursing.

Just as she was about to leave, Song Hengjue suddenly grabbed her hand and pressed it against his face, looking completely dependent on her: "Don't go."

"You can't feel at ease if you don't cause trouble for a day, can you?" Yang Qingheng snorted coldly, ultimately deciding not to argue with a drunkard. She pulled back the covers and got into bed, reaching for water on the bedside table, but her gaze stopped on the bottle on the bedside table. "What's this?"

But then the man, who had been listless just moments before, suddenly sat up, snatched the bottle, and clutched it tightly in his hand, saying blankly, "It's nothing."

Seeing his expression, Yang Qingheng's curiosity grew even stronger, and she held out a hand warningly: "What medicine is it? Let me see."

Recalling Song Hengjue's strange attitude when he called her in the middle of the night, she became even more certain that his condition at the time was probably related to this drug.

Song Hengjue stared straight at her, hiding the bottle behind his back, his unfamiliar eyes filled with wariness.

His icy gaze was devoid of any warmth, a stark contrast to his attitude five years ago when he forced her to divorce him. Yang Qingheng's heart sank, her face paled, and she spoke in an almost commanding tone: "Song Hengjue, I'll say it one last time, bring it here!"

The man, who was usually easy to talk to, was unusually stubborn at this moment, his lips were tightly pressed together, and he stared at her without saying a word.

Yang Qingheng knew that she was not in the right state, but the panic in her heart made her unable to control her temper. With a cold face, she pulled his hand out from behind his back and forcefully pried his fingers apart.

Normally, she would never have been able to snatch the bottle from Song Hengjue, but today the man was drunk and had no strength left. Just as the bottle was about to fall into her hands, Song Hengjue's eyes turned red, and he bit her lip hard.

The man's scent forcefully entered her lips and tongue, and with a "thud," the bottle fell to the ground.

Yang Qingheng was annoyed and pushed Song Hengjue away forcefully.

The man held her tightly in his arms, his voice trembling with a humble plea, as he kissed her cheek tenderly, as if handling a precious treasure that would shatter if he let go: "Please don't look, okay?"

"Beg me? What's the use of begging me!" Yang Qingheng suddenly pushed him away, furious. "Song Hengjue, why didn't you tell me anything? You only feel happy when things get to the point of no return?"

As Yang Qingheng felt the darkness, it was as if all her strength had been drained away, and she sat exhausted on the bed.

It seems that there is never a peaceful moment in her relationship with Song Hengjue, whether in her past life or this one.

“I think we should break up,” she said, closing her eyes tightly, her voice eerily calm. “Since every time we’re together it’s just another form of mutual torture, we might as well let each other go.”