Chapter 86: Then Give Your Old Man a Kiss

Tang Yu, whatever she was like, that was exactly what he liked. Qin Mingyu’s lips twitched; the words were straightforward enough.

“But Brother Yang, aren’t you planning to go abroad?” he asked. “Long-distance relationships are doomed, especially when you barely have any foundation. Two or three months of feelings can’t withstand four years apart in different countries. Even if you stay loyal, you can’t guarantee Tang Yu won’t change her heart. Once she gets into a university in the capital, the scenery there will dazzle her.”

“Who said I’m going abroad?” The aftereffects of the alcohol were strong; Yang Bian’s dark eyes were already tinged with intoxication. “With such promising prospects here at home, why would I go abroad?”

Qin Mingyu’s mouth twitched again, as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke. Who knew who had insisted on going abroad at first, ignoring the advice of countless professors?

Unbeknownst to them, the two speaking now had already caught the attention of several women on the prowl in the bar. They sat in the most expensive booth, ordered the priciest drinks, and their striking looks made them stand out in the crowd.

A girl in a miniskirt sashayed over, holding a glass of wine, and slid flirtatiously into the seat beside Yang Bian.

“Hey handsome, you two look unfamiliar—are you from out of town?”

She was young, her voice thin and high as she took a sip and pushed her lipstick-stained glass toward Yang Bian.

He turned to look at her, his gaze cold and indifferent.

The girl smiled, her eyes glinting with a hint of seduction. “Want to have some fun together?”

“Move.”

He radiated a chilling aura, and when annoyed, his entire demeanor broadcasted his irritation without any attempt to hide it. Seeing her sit on his jacket, the disgust in his eyes was plain as day.

He reached for his jacket, pulling it out with such force that the girl nearly toppled to the floor.

“If you don’t want to play, fine, but what’s your problem!”

She stormed off in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Qin Mingyu, his hand resting on the back of the booth, slowly withdrew his gaze from the girl.

Yang Bian, now thoroughly repulsed, wiped his clothes with a tissue as if it could never be clean enough, finally tossing his jacket straight into the trash.

It was at moments like this that he seemed like the Yang Bian Qin Mingyu knew.

—

Tang Yu was sitting cross-legged in the living room, watching an English film, when she received a phone call just before midnight.

It was Qin Mingyu.

They had exchanged contact information at the hospital, but this was the first time he’d actually called.

Tang Yu removed her headphones and answered.

On the other end, Qin Mingyu sounded pitiful. “Sister, Yang Bian’s had too much to drink. I can’t hold him up by myself, and he’s downstairs at your apartment. Can you come help me?”

Tang Yu agreed immediately. After hanging up, she put on her shoes and headed out.

As the door closed behind her, she realized she’d forgotten her keys, but fortunately Yang Bian had taken a set when he left.

—

Downstairs, Qin Mingyu was supporting Yang Bian. Seeing Tang Yu rush over, he waved.

Before she got close, Tang Yu caught a strong scent of alcohol.

Qin Mingyu explained, “We were having a farewell party for me, and he drank a little too much.” He then looked at her in surprise. “Sister, your new hairstyle is really cute.”

Tang Yu shyly touched her hair. Yang Bian was tall; she barely reached his chest. Feeling awkward in front of Qin Mingyu, she wasn’t sure how best to support him.

Qin Mingyu directed her, placing one of Yang Bian’s arms over her shoulders. “Just hold him like this.”

Tang Yu placed one hand on his arm, the other awkwardly settling around his waist to support his weight.

Yang Bian muttered, “My stuff.”

Qin Mingyu remembered the bag in his hand. “Here, here it is.”

He stuffed the bag into Yang Bian’s palm, which seemed to settle him for a moment.

After ushering them into the elevator, Qin Mingyu left. Yang Bian could hold his liquor; he wasn’t completely out of it.

He lowered his gaze and saw the girl helping him. He leaned against the elevator wall, tilting his head back.

The overhead light fell on his delicate features, illuminating his long, curled lashes. He was quiet, save for the occasional movement of his pale Adam’s apple. Stray locks of hair fell over his eyes, casting a faint shadow.

Their apartment was on a high floor; the elevator ascended slowly.

Tang Yu saw him with eyes closed, head tilted back against the wall, silent. She gently asked, “Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

At her words, Yang Bian slowly opened his eyes, his gaze dropping to her gentle face.

He stared at her for a long moment.

Tang Yu felt self-conscious under his gaze. “What is it?”

She touched her hair, explaining, “The stylist did it. Does it look strange?”

“Not strange.” His voice, roughened by alcohol, was low and hoarse. “It’s beautiful.”

Tang Yu met his gaze and smiled softly.

When the elevator opened, she placed his arm back around her shoulders, supporting him by the waist as they walked out.

“I forgot my keys. Where did you put yours?”

Standing at the door, she asked.

“In my pocket. Find them yourself.”

Yang Bian replied.

Tang Yu reached into his pants pocket—nothing. She tried the other side, still no keys. Suddenly, Yang Bian grabbed her wrist, pressing her against the wall.

Tang Yu was caught off guard, pinned against the cold wall, his body close to hers, his head lowered, breathing heavily at her shoulder.

“Tang Xiao Yu, why didn’t you reply to my message today?”

Tang Yu instinctively looked up, her eyes clear. “Message? What message?”

The proximity was intense; every breath brought the sharp scent of alcohol mingled with the cold aroma of cedar—just like the apartment, a scent that belonged solely to him.

“You only replied with a single ‘okay’.”

He said.

Tang Yu remembered: earlier, she had messaged him asking about dinner. He’d replied he was eating out, told her to get something herself, and she’d simply sent back an “okay.”

“Why are you so perfunctory?”

His eyelids drooped, perhaps from the alcohol, a hint of grievance in his tone.

Tang Yu wasn’t sure how to respond. The conversation had already come full circle.

“I didn’t—”

She tried to explain.

Yang Bian cut her off. “You did.”

Tang Yu was patient. “Then tell me, how should I reply?”

Yang Bian’s voice was rough. “You should’ve replied ‘okay, okay.’”

Tang Yu: “…”

“I’m upset, Tang Xiao Yu.”

He was being unreasonable.

Tang Yu chalked it up to the alcohol, not taking it seriously, and reached again for his pocket, searching for the keys.

But Yang Bian took her hand in his, his palm hot.

She tried to pull away, but couldn’t. She frowned slightly. “Yang Bian, stop messing around.”

He was sullen, silent.

After a moment, Tang Yu felt him trace her palm lightly with his fingertip, as if asking for peace.

The touch was gentle, just a little ticklish.

“Make it up to me,” he said. “Cheer me up, and I’ll give you the keys.”

Tang Yu exhaled softly, refusing to indulge him.

“All right, Yang Bian, give me the keys, please. Without them, neither of us can get inside.”

Her voice was delicate and sweet, far more pleasant than the girl at the bar.

Yang Bian couldn’t help but smile.

Tang Yu thought he’d finally had enough, but he bent closer, his lips near her ear.

“Then give me a kiss.”

“If you don’t, I won’t forgive you.”