Chapter 9 Alcohol
[Alcohol: a powerful tool for relieving sorrow and hurting the stomach. In literary works, it can act as an emotional catalyst, leading to impulsive behavior and indescribable plots. (Example: However, in fact, alcohol can affect sexual ability.)]
Circuit design is a hot field. There are dozens of conferences of all sizes every year, but Meng Chu will not attend all of them. If his tutor hadn’t told him to go this time, he wouldn’t have signed up.
Although attending meetings is part of his job, the money for airfare and hotels is also deducted from his research funds. The prices in Hong Kong are so high. He looked at the room rate and deliberately chose a low-priced hotel far away from the venue, but he still felt heartbroken.
However, perhaps because his expectations were not high, after listening to the two lectures, Meng Chu felt like he had been pleasantly surprised.
This conference was organized by a new engineering association, and several industry leaders were invited to attend in order to maintain the atmosphere. Meng Chu had only seen the name in journals before, and this was the first time he saw the real person.
What was even more surprising was that after the first day of the meeting, his supervisor found him and said that several senior professors were going to have a dinner together, including the big guy who was giving the lecture today, and asked him if he wanted to go with them.
When Meng Chu heard the word "dinner party", he instinctively felt short of breath and his heartbeat soared, but he immediately nodded.
This is a great opportunity to expand your network. Even if it's embarrassing to death or gives you a panic attack, you have to go.
None of them were locals from Hong Kong, so they found a restaurant that looked very upscale. After entering the room, several professors began to be polite and pulled each other repeatedly. After the waiter stood for a quarter of an hour with the wine list, they finally sat down.
Meng Chu stood at the side, not knowing what role a small follower like himself should play. He could only wait until the end and sit in the remaining seat.
Before we even placed our order, the professor in charge started discussing the types and tastes of the wine with his colleagues. After some discussion, the waiter brought two bottles of wine and placed them on the table. The moment Meng Chu saw the degree, he had an ominous premonition.
He doesn't usually drink, but in this kind of occasion, he has to toast.
The scene went back to the Chinese New Year, the banquet was lively and the hot pot smelled delicious, but Meng Chu was sitting at the bottom. From the beginning of the banquet, there was only one thing on his mind: when to toast and what to say when toasting.
It's like the sword of Damocles hanging over your head.
He knew that those who were good at making toasts could always find the right opportunity between the clinking of glasses, like a catfish passing through a net, to smoothly insert themselves into the conversation, making everyone at the table smile and have rosy faces.
For Meng Chu, this is nothing short of a superpower.
In order to find the moment to toast, he had to be as alert as a egret fishing and spend a long time encouraging himself. But after actually raising it, he would care about whether his voice was shaking and whether his expression was unnatural - of course it was unnatural, how could it be natural when his heart rate was over 120.
Meng Chu had this huge rock in his heart, and he started to feel anxious from the moment the cold dishes were served.
In the end, it was his mentor who saved him. When the dishes were almost served, the other party patted his arm and asked him to follow him in toasting.
Meng Chu let out a long sigh, feeling so grateful that he couldn't express it in words.
The tutor stood up and glanced at the wine dispenser. Meng Chu followed the instructions, picked it up and followed obediently.
They first went to the main seat. The instructor clinked glasses with a middle-aged man with a noticeable bald head, chatted for a few words about recent projects, then turned around and patted Meng Chu on the shoulder: "This is my former student, now an associate professor of microelectronics at Linda University."
"I thought this was your new PhD student. You look so young," the professor observed Meng Chu. "What year were you graduated from?"
Upon hearing that he was born after 1995, the professor was filled with emotion: "What a coincidence, I just entered university that year." He raised his glass and Meng Chu hurried forward to clink it with his.
There was only one sip left in the cup and the other person just finished drinking it.
Meng Chu watched his instructor praise this unskillful toasting action, and then stared at himself.
He hesitated for a moment and then drank the wine in the glass.
He swallowed too quickly and couldn't taste anything. He just felt like a fire burning all the way down, numbing his tongue from the tip to his throat.
He clamped his mouth shut tightly, trying not to cough.
The professor at the main seat glanced at him, his expression somewhat moved. He turned around and said to his neighbor, "It's not easy to find a young teacher who is willing to drink with a group of old men like us these days."
The person sitting next to him laughed and agreed, "Yes, the new teachers in recent years are all very arrogant. Asking them to drink a sip of wine is like asking for their life."
"How dare we let them drink?" The host waved his hand. "If you drink with them one day, they will criticize you on Weibo the next day, saying things like 'feudal antiques', 'drinking culture' and 'academic bullying'. We are all old, and we still have to look at their faces when we have dinner together. Lao Zhang, you have a good student."
Meng Chu's teacher also smiled: "Little Meng, apart from anything else, you still have the courtesy to respect your teachers."
The instructor looked at him, and several professors at the table also looked at him. Meng Chu felt what he should say. After thinking for a long time, he said, "I'm just having a drink with you teachers. It's my duty."
The faces in front of me showed expressions of satisfaction. Meng Chu suddenly felt very happy.
They might remember him and like him.
While he was reveling in the joy of social success, he felt very pathetic.
Their generation has realized the irrationality of the "drinking table culture". Many of his peers, not wanting to become victims of this custom, used various methods to stop it and denounce it, hoping that it would remain among the previous generation.
If there are more people who do not follow the rules, those who follow the rules will become the beneficiaries.
Meng Chu even felt a little relieved. Thanks to his peers who rose up in resistance, he was able to take advantage of the situation.
"Good, good," the professor in the chair said happily, "I finally meet a young man who understands things."
Before Meng Chu could respond with a smile, his tutor gave him a slight push from behind, signaling to the professor sitting next to him.
He was about to walk over to toast, but the instructor reminded him: "The glass is still empty."
Meng Chu stared at the wine dispenser in his hand and suddenly realized something.
Finished.
He finished the first cup, but these words kept him there, and he was afraid that he would finish every subsequent cup.
He forgot that his peers who rebelled against the old rules were willing to pay the price of rebellion because conforming to the old rules would be more painful.
This is exactly the same as when I was a doctoral student.
At that time, he didn't know how to give gifts, nor did he know how to please his teacher. Therefore, he could only choose the dumbest way: to be obedient.
Whether it's picking up and dropping off children at school, tutoring them, or handling reimbursements and booking air tickets and hotels, he does the work of a teaching assistant, a secretary, and a nanny.
Among so many students in the group, he did the most miscellaneous work, not because he needed the tutor's care the most, but because everyone could see that he was the easiest to oppress.
If you give the same chores to others, they will find all kinds of excuses to prevaricate and delay, but he can overcome all difficulties, squeeze himself hard, and get the job done for you without even sleeping.
Who wouldn’t want to employ such a chosen worker?
The mentor has absolute power, but he will not use it at will. The sword in their hands that cuts off students' academic path will often never be unsheathed.
Other students can see this, so they try their best to protect their own interests without offending their mentor.
He couldn't do it because he didn't dare and because he didn't know how.
Ultimately, it's because he lacks the ability.
He has neither the courage to defy the rules nor the skills to protect himself. Even if it is obedience, some people can get the greatest benefit from obedience, while he will only be exploited and used to the end. This is the most foolish obedience.
He clinked glasses with the second professor and drank the glass.
My stomach was already feeling a little uncomfortable, and in addition to the pungent smell of alcohol in my mouth, there was also a bitter taste of acid reflux.
A question suddenly popped up in Meng Chu's drowsy mind: If it was Meng Jining who was here, what would he do?
Maybe from the beginning, I wouldn't be stupid enough to do it all at once.
Even if he didn't drink with them, he could still say nice things to make these people happy.
To take a step back, even if he did it, he would emphasize in advance that he does not drink and does not drink often, maximizing the value of the glass of wine and praising the other person's status to the highest.
In the subsequent rounds of toasts, he will always find a way to extricate himself.
Meng Chu couldn't think of it, he didn't have the ability, but he was sure Meng Jining had it.
After the third drink, he began to lose awareness of his surroundings. The instructor's voice was a little unclear, as if he was introducing his research direction.
This is too important. He pinched himself hard, found the last bit of rationality, and talked about his project.
The other party seemed to think his idea was good, praised it a few times, and also made some suggestions.
If today's socializing could end here, it would be perfect. Unfortunately, half of the professors at the table were still missing.
Towards the second half, Meng Chu entered a trance, raising the glass and swallowing mechanically, and the wine seemed to have lost its taste.
His confused mind began to think inexplicably: Where is Fu Guanshan? What will he do?
During the family dinner, Fu Guanshan drank wine like he was drinking water, so this amount of wine should not be a problem.
He should be able to make everyone at the table laugh while drinking. After returning home, everyone treated him as the topic of the day: they met a very interesting young man who could drink and talk.
A natural born saint of drinking culture.
Anyway... I won't be like him, digging a hole for myself to jump into. When I returned to my seat, I felt as if my stomach was rotting.
Meng Chu didn’t know when the banquet ended. He only remembered that the food on the table gradually cooled down and the tissue box was turning around in front of him.
Finally, it was the instructor who patted him on the shoulder and signaled that he was leaving, and he struggled to stand up.
He drank without getting mad, nor did he make any noise. He just sat there quietly. No one knew how drunk he was or how uncomfortable he felt. As he reached the door of the box, he felt he couldn't hold it any longer. He stumbled to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and couldn't vomit.
He covered his head, feeling as if his stomach was being stabbed by a knife.
He couldn't walk or go back, but he didn't know what to do. It was not appropriate to let those professors, or his mentor, take care of a drunkard.
But this is Hong Kong, and he doesn't know anyone here.
The smell of alcohol and stomach acid came up together, and in the pain of being unable to breathe, a thought suddenly popped up in my brain slowly.
etc.
some.
Under normal circumstances, he would never bother others. But now he was too ill to physically take care of himself. Even if he asked someone to help him get a taxi back to the hotel, it would be a big help.
He took out his cell phone and stared at the address book for a while before finding the name and clicking on the call button.
The other party picked up quickly. "You've been here all day, and you only just remembered me," a familiar voice came from the microphone, "It's so sad."
This was not the content of the first sentence as expected. Meng Chu was stunned for a long time before he said slowly and vaguely: "Do you know...know...I am in Hong Kong?"
The other person paused and asked, "How much did you drink?"
Meng Chu fell silent. He was calculating.
The person on the other side didn't wait for him to figure out the answer: "Where are you now?"
Meng Chu vaguely stated the location, and the overwhelming feeling came back. He hung up his phone, grabbed his hair, and began to regret everything since he was born.
I don’t know how long it was, but suddenly, the compartment door opened.
He slowly turned his head and saw Fu Guanshan, whose hairstyle was meticulously done... What was that shiny thing on his eyelid? Aluminum powder?
The other person lowered his head and looked at him. "I've never seen you in a blue suit before," Fu Guanshan said, "You look good."
Meng Chu paused for three seconds, slowly moved his lips and made lip movements.
Fu Guanshan didn't hear clearly, frowned, and leaned closer: "What?"
"3.8 taels."
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