Kiss you at Sunset (BL) - Chapter 7

Throughout the meal, the conversation somehow turned into a roast session targeting Jiang Yutang. Zhou Shiluo, unfamiliar with the two sitting across from him, found it difficult to chime in. He simply listened quietly, only responding with a polite smile when spoken to.

Zhou Shiluo felt like he must have been kicked by a donkey—why else would he come here in the middle of the night just to serve as a background character?

By the time he arrived, the three were already slightly drunk. He tried to dissuade them from drinking more, but not only did his advice fall on deaf ears, Jiang Yutang even ordered another eight bottles of beer.

Having no other choice, Zhou Shiluo declined the drinks, citing that he had to drive. But Jiang Yutang refused to let him off the hook, holding onto a bottle tightly as he insisted, “You’re already here, just two bottles each! Besides, there’s no such thing as refusing a drink. I’ll call a designated driver for you later.”

Zhou Shiluo was torn. Ever since an incident two years ago, he had quit drinking altogether. One drunken mistake had cost him dearly—there was no way he would risk repeating it.

Jiang Yutang pushed the bottle toward him. “Brother Zhou, if you won’t do it for me, at least give Yang Jin some face, right?”

Zhou Shiluo didn’t want to give face to anyone.

But two bottles were within his limit, so he decided not to bother refusing any longer—might as well just drink a little.

Just as he reached for the bottle, the person beside him intercepted it midway. Yang Jin swiftly pulled the two bottles meant for Zhou Shiluo over to his side.

“He can’t drink. He has class early tomorrow,” Yang Jin said nonchalantly.

Zhou Shiluo turned his head, bewildered. In reality, he only had classes in the third and fourth periods the next day. He knew Yang Jin was helping him avoid drinking but couldn’t understand why—this same person had always been cold toward him.

Frowning slightly, Zhou Shiluo glanced at the four bottles now in front of Yang Jin but ultimately chose not to interfere.

Jiang Yutang chuckled knowingly and compromised, “Fine, we’ll let Brother Jin take them for you.”

After a few rounds of drinks, all three were completely drunk.

Zhou Shiluo checked his phone—it was already past ten o’clock.

At this hour, the dormitory gates were long closed. If they returned late and reeked of alcohol, the dorm supervisor would undoubtedly scold them. If their attitude was poor, they might even get reported to the department for disciplinary action the next day.

Zhou Shiluo asked with concern, “Where are you guys staying tonight?”

Feng Jiayang, the least drunk of the three, had already called a car. He grinned at Zhou Shiluo. “I rented a one-bedroom apartment outside, but it’s pretty small—only enough for two people.”

Saying this, he glanced at Yang Jin, who was slouched in his chair, his gaze unfocused. “You’re friends with Yang Jin, so you can take him. I’ll take Jiang Yutang with me.”

Zhou Shiluo wasn’t keen on this arrangement. His apartment had two bedrooms, but the second bedroom didn’t even have a bed—Yang Jin wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep.

Before he could refuse, Feng Jiayang had already helped Jiang Yutang up and was preparing to leave.

Zhou Shiluo hurriedly asked, “Then what was your plan before I came?”

Feng Jiayang shrugged, looking innocent as he shook his head. “No idea. Why don’t you wake Yang Jin up and ask him?”

With that, he half-supported Jiang Yutang and left.

Zhou Shiluo stood up, intending to chase after them, but Yang Jin was sitting in the outer seat, completely blocking his way. He could only stand there, watching helplessly.

Sighing in resignation, he nudged Yang Jin and said with irritation, “Wake up. Can you still walk?”

Yang Jin half-opened his eyes, sluggishly nodding, then shaking his head.

Zhou Shiluo thought about how Yang Jin had drunk two extra bottles for his sake and suppressed his frustration. He muttered a low curse under his breath, then signaled a nearby waiter for help carrying Yang Jin outside.

The waiter was a young man who kept his head down as he carefully supported Yang Jin, occasionally murmuring reminders like “Watch your step” and “Be careful of the stairs.” When they reached the entrance, the waiter hesitated before glancing at Zhou Shiluo with a nervous expression.

“Uh… sir, you… still haven’t paid the bill.”

Zhou Shiluo licked his molars, trying to suppress his frustration. “How much?”

The waiter tapped on the cash register counter. “Table 316, bill, please.”

Two minutes later, Zhou Shiluo reluctantly pulled out six red banknotes from his wallet. After getting sixty yuan in change, he hoisted the half-conscious Yang Jin over his shoulder and pushed open the door to leave.

Fortunately, the car was parked nearby, so he didn’t have to exert too much effort to get Yang Jin into the passenger seat.

Just as he was about to get in, he suddenly remembered the half-pack of cigarettes Liu Linshen had left in the car last time. He had tossed them into the glove compartment in the passenger seat.

He thought about taking one, but when his eyes fell on the sleeping Yang Jin, an image of him smoking last time surfaced in his mind.

For some reason, he dismissed the idea.

Standing outside the car for a moment, he felt a pang of regret over the 540 yuan he had just spent. Even though his father made plenty of money and he never lacked an allowance, it didn’t mean he liked wasting it.

Circling around to the driver’s seat, he climbed in, inwardly cursing himself for ever coming here.

But sometimes, bad luck just won’t let up. Just as he was sulking, a piece of white paper fluttered into his vision from the driver’s side window.

Zhou Shiluo paused. Though he had only recently bought the car, he was all too familiar with that paper—an official traffic violation ticket.

Looking around, he saw that the cars parked in front and behind him also had tickets stuck to their windshields. Accepting his fate, he clenched his jaw and grabbed the ticket before getting into the driver’s seat.

After a brief silence, he nudged Yang Jin and called his name a few times.

“Did you bring your ID?” Zhou Shiluo asked.

Yang Jin was already feeling terrible from the alcohol. Zhou Shiluo’s voice only made him more uncomfortable. He grumbled something incoherent, then turned his face toward the window.

Realizing that communicating with a drunk was futile, Zhou Shiluo buckled both their seat belts, pulled out his phone, and booked a nearby hotel room. Then he started the car and drove over.

This time, he was smarter—he waited until a parking space was available before turning off the engine.

After explaining the situation to the hotel staff, he used his own ID to check Yang Jin in and even got an employee to help him carry the drunk man upstairs.

By this point, Yang Jin had sobered up slightly, but the consequences of excessive drinking hit him hard.

The moment they entered the room, he rushed to the bathroom, hugging the toilet and dry-heaving multiple times, unable to vomit anything out. The alcohol churned in his stomach, leaving him no choice but to force himself to throw up until the nausea subsided.

Zhou Shiluo ignored him, casually boiling some water before stepping into the foul-smelling bathroom. Pinching his nose, he said in exasperation, “If you can’t handle it, why drink so much?”

Yang Jin looked up at him briefly before lowering his gaze, leaning weakly against the wall. Even in this state, he didn’t forget to sneer. His voice was so faint it was almost pitiful.

“Have a little heart, will you? I drank for your sake—”

“Give it a rest.” Zhou Shiluo cut him off, tossing a towel onto his face. “I never asked you to.”

Yang Jin pulled the towel off his head, snorting before letting out an inexplicable chuckle. Then, out of nowhere, he muttered, “You’re always like this.”

Zhou Shiluo frowned. “Like what?”

“Arrogant,” Yang Jin spat out the word bitterly.

Caught off guard, Zhou Shiluo’s temper flared. He lightly kicked Yang Jin’s leg and pressed, “Explain yourself.”

But Yang Jin just shook his head, closing his eyes. His breath was shallow, reeking of alcohol. His face was flushed from drinking, and he seemed to fall asleep.

Zhou Shiluo hesitated for a moment, assuming it was just drunken nonsense. Suppressing his emotions, he bent down, ready to drag Yang Jin to bed and leave.

But the moment he touched Yang Jin’s arm, the man’s eyes flew open.

His gaze was no longer calm—it was filled with intense hatred.

Zhou Shiluo was startled. Before he could speak, Yang Jin grabbed his wrist tightly and demanded, voice trembling with anger—

“You told me you liked me.”