Jiang Chu was stunned for a moment when he saw Qin Zui’s setup.
“Drinking the hard stuff?” He flicked the toothpick holder with a beer logo printed on it. “Two bottles of beer are good enough, no need to go all out with that.”
“You drink yours.” Qin Zui ordered him another beer and started casually picking dishes, clearly saying they’d each drink their own without bothering the other.
“Wait, are you even a student or what?” Jiang Chu stared at him.
If this was how Qin Zui defined “a little drink,” Jiang Chu would just concede right there.
He could handle two bottles of beer, but when it came to baijiu, his limit had always been about two ounces.
Even two ounces was generous. He’d still be sober after one small cup, but if he pushed it to two, he’d be completely lost.
Qin Zui had ordered two big bottles of Niulanshan baijiu, two whole pounds. If he actually downed all that, he might as well just use the bottle to knock himself out right here.
“I can’t drink that stuff. One glass and I’m done. Take it easy.” Jiang Chu waved his hand. “Just add two skewers of grilled rice cakes for me.”
Qin Zui ate out just like he did at home, quiet and focused, taking bites and sips, minding his own business.
Jiang Chu was used to it by now. He peeled crayfish and chattered aimlessly, considering it a win if Qin Zui responded to one out of every ten things he said.
As he ate, he kept an eye on Qin Zui’s bottle. One bottle was almost empty, and aside from a slight redness around his eyes, there was no sign he was drunk at all.
When Jiang Chu was peeling a crayfish, one of its pincers flew into his beer glass. Qin Zui calmly used his chopsticks to fish it out and dropped it onto the iron tray with a clatter.
“Pour me a glass of that,” Jiang Chu said suspiciously, glancing at the bottle. Was the alcohol content low or something?
Back when Da Ben was in school drinking Red Star, he was considered a heavy drinker, but even he would start staggering after a pound.
Qin Zui’s tolerance was honestly a bit frightening.
Had he bought fake liquor?
Qin Zui didn’t pour him any. Instead, he pushed the beer bottle back toward Jiang Chu.
“I don’t want this.” Jiang Chu dumped the half-glass of beer that had the crayfish pincer in it, then pushed the beer bottle back to Qin Zui. “Just pour me a mouthful.”
“Mixing drinks gets you drunk faster.” Qin Zui poured him a small half-glass.
“If I get drunk, you’re carrying me home,” Jiang Chu said.
Qin Zui glanced at him but didn’t say anything.
Usually, Jiang Chu thought he talked a normal amount. But after that half-glass of baijiu hit his stomach, his talking volume started to spiral in an uncontrollable direction.
One moment he was asking Qin Zui if he was full, the next asking what else he wanted to eat.
After the alcohol swirled around in his stomach again, he decided to peel a shrimp himself. He held it up toward Qin Zui, but his aim was a bit off, aiming straight for his nose. “Try one? See if you’re allergic. We still have medicine at home anyway.”
Qin Zui was pretty much done eating. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Jiang Chu. He didn’t take it from Jiang Chu’s hand but used his chopsticks to pick up the shrimp and toss it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
“Qin Zui, stand up and walk a circle for me.” Jiang Chu lit a cigarette and held it between his lips, propped his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his hand, watching Qin Zui with a dazed look.
One and a half bottles of cold beer plus about an ounce of erguotou baijiu, and Jiang Chu wasn’t exactly drunk yet, but he was definitely starting to feel it. His brain felt floaty, he wanted to talk, and he kinda wanted to laugh.
Qin Zui looked at him like that, lazily curled the corner of his mouth, and said, “I’m really not drunk.”
“Bullshit.” Jiang Chu didn’t know why his laughter threshold dropped whenever he drank. “Your eyes are red.”
“The corners.” He pointed to the outer corner of his own eye. “Here.”
“Mm-hmm, but not drunk.” Qin Zui nodded slightly, then tilted his head back and chugged some erguotou like it was beer.
“How can you drink so much?” Jiang Chu frowned.
Qin Zui didn’t answer. Instead, he squeezed out another edamame and chewed it slowly, seeming a bit distracted.
Jiang Chu assessed his own state. While he still had some clear awareness, he was about to call the boss over to pay and order a designated driver when Qin Zui suddenly spoke: “My dad was a drunkard.”
He was answering Jiang Chu’s earlier question.
“Oh.” Jiang Chu took a few seconds to process what “drunkard” meant. Once it clicked, he let his hand, which had been halfway raised, fall back onto the chair back. He leaned back and looked at Qin Zui, nodding again. “But your tolerance doesn’t seem like genetics.”
Qin Zui didn’t say anything. Jiang Chu couldn’t help but ask, “How did your dad…”
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted it.
If his head were clear, Jiang Chu definitely wouldn’t bring up Qin Zui’s dad on his own. Whether to avoid reopening old wounds or to avoid trouble for himself, he hadn’t even planned to ask how he was doing or comfort him. Unless Qin Zui brought it up himself, Jiang Chu had no idea how to follow up on something like that.
Drinking really did mess things up.
But Qin Zui’s reaction to the question was much calmer than Jiang Chu had imagined. He even answered it faster than the previous questions, like he was talking about someone else’s dad. He didn’t even blink, his tone steady as could be. “Cerebral hemorrhage.”
Jiang Chu let out another “Oh.”
“I got home from school and he was already cold. He was on the floor by his bed, half his leg sticking out the door.” Qin Zui said the longest sentence he’d ever uttered since they started living together.
This time Jiang Chu couldn’t even manage an “Oh.” He thought about that image, then tried to imagine how he’d feel if he came home from school and saw something like that. A wave of alcohol hit him, making black spots flash before his eyes, and he felt like throwing up.
If he actually did throw up right then, Qin Zui would probably reach across the table and hit him.
Luckily, he held it in. Qin Zui also screwed the cap back on the remaining half-bottle of baijiu, pushed his chair back, and went to pay the bill.
Jiang Chu called a designated driver. With that important task done, his body relaxed, and the alcohol started rushing to his head even faster.
“You’re probably really gonna have to carry me, kid.” He draped his arm over Qin Zui’s shoulder, swaying as he insisted on getting back to the car. He lit another cigarette with half-closed eyes, took a drag, found it unpleasant, and casually handed it to Qin Zui.
Qin Zui stubbed it out and tossed it in the trash can, then pulled out Jiang Chu’s cigarette pack, took one for himself, lit it, and leaned against the car to wait for the driver.
“Shit.” Jiang Chu lay sprawled in the car with the door wide open, his arm over his forehead, one eye peeking out at Qin Zui. He stretched his leg, trying to kick him. “Knew you had everything figured out.”
Qin Zui glanced at him, then picked up Jiang Chu’s leg, which was sliding limply out of the car, and put it back inside.
Jiang Chu, ticklish, tried to curl up but failed. He pointed at Qin Zui from a distance, his eyes already squinting. “Fighting, drinking, smoking. When you bomb your exams, I’ll teach you a lesson.”
This guy didn’t cause trouble when drunk, but he sure talked a lot, mumbling on and on without end.
Compared to his dad, he could almost be called “a good drunk.”
Qin Zui tilted his head and watched him for a while. He suspected he was drunk too, because he kind of wanted to laugh. With a loud “bang,” he slammed the car door shut, letting Jiang Chu curl up comfortably.
After that, until they got home, Jiang Chu cooperatively slipped into a state of unconsciousness, his consciousness drifting.
When the drifting in his mind turned into a physical swaying, he opened his eyes and found himself on Qin Zui’s back.
This kid had actually carried him home. They were already at the door, and Qin Zui was struggling to reach into his pocket one-handed.
“What are you groping for?” Jiang Chu flicked him behind the ear.
Qin Zui’s movements froze, and he quickly unloaded Jiang Chu from his back.
“Hey, slow down, I’m dizzy.” Jiang Chu leaned against the door to recover. Having his eyes half-closed made him even dizzier. He fumbled in his own pocket several times before finally pulling out the keys.
“Where’s your key? Didn’t I give you one?” he asked Qin Zui as he tried to fit the key into the lock, missing several times.
Qin Zui pushed him aside and deftly unlocked the door.
Jiang Chu was leaning his full weight against the door. When Qin Zui suddenly shoved it open, Jiang Chu staggered inside like a sack of potatoes, following the door’s momentum.
Damn, if I fall, I’m gonna puke.
Instinctively, Jiang Chu reached out and grabbed wildly, trying to catch something.
At the same time, and it was either incredibly coincidental or incredibly unlucky, Qin Zui quickly stepped forward, trying to catch Jiang Chu.
Jiang Chu’s hand brushed down his lower abdomen, slipping downward. In the chaos, his fingers seemed to grab hold of something long and thin. Before he could register what it was, he was shoved away by Qin Zui.
