Chapter 2#
Chapter 2#
Bai Wuyou felt a bit guilty, rubbing his hands together as he snuck a peek at the man in the hat. “Hey man, you still want a drink?”
The man, who hadn’t gotten a single sip of alcohol since entering the bar, let out a pent-up sigh that sounded like it was squeezed from the depths of his lungs, and slammed the wine bottle heavily onto the counter.
Bai Wuyou reached over to take the bottle. The thoroughly enraged man in the hat slapped his hand onto the table, leaving a clear palm print on it, and was about to start cursing furiously.
Bai Wuyou beat him to it, saying with an innocent look, “I drank straight from the bottle. You wouldn’t want some strange man’s spit, would you? Order any drink you want from the bar—it’s my apology to you.”
The man in the hat’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally said coldly, “I said I don’t need your apology! Are you deaf?!” What kind of self-absorbed person was this?!
Bai Wuyou rubbed his slightly aching ear and complained, “Not deaf, but you’re really loud. You won’t let me pay for the wine, so the least I can do is buy you a drink. If you don’t want it, just pour it out.”
The man in the hat couldn’t understand his logic: “If I’m not drinking it, why would you buy it? Got money to burn?!”
Bai Wuyou: “Because I don’t want to owe anyone a favor. If I don’t make it up to you today, I’ll have to keep it on my mind, and that’s just exhausting.”
The man in the hat laughed in frustration, his tone turning sarcastic. “Well, aren’t you just full of manners. Fine, I’ve changed my mind. You owe me for the wine.”
Bai Wuyou leaned forward. “Expensive?”
The man in the hat scoffed. “What do you think? It’s a 1989 Pétrus.”
Bai Wuyou: 06-06
Is he provoking me?
Someone who couldn’t stand being provoked sat back down. “Then I’m not paying.”
The man in the hat rolled his eyes. “I figured you couldn’t afford it anyway.”
Bai Wuyou shook his head. “I don’t know much about red wine. No matter how you talk it up, at its core it’s just fruit wine. I don’t want to pay a huge markup for fruit wine. So man, order anything on the menu, I’ll cover it, and once we’re out that door, we’ve never met.”
The man in the hat said nothing—maybe he was too dumbfounded to speak.
The men in black at the two tables behind were making quite a racket, glasses crashing and drinks splattering. A group of fierce-looking men, yet they were all staring at Bai Wuyou as if he were some kind of strange creature.
They even instinctively backed away. Fortunately, most of the bar’s customers had already fled by now, leaving plenty of empty space under tables for them to use.
“You little—” The man in the hat’s voice was sinister, his face darkening with fury. His features, which by male standards were excessively delicate, twisted into something almost vicious under his anger. “I think you’ve got a death wish—”
As he spoke, he raised his right hand, but it was caught at the wrist by Bai Wuyou before it got halfway up. The man in the hat wasn’t annoyed; instead, he smiled even more eerily.
The wooden floor beneath his feet seemed to bulge and tremble as if swelling from heat.
But to his surprise, the other party didn’t intend to throw the first punch. Instead, Bai Wuyou blinked his bright, dark, apricot-shaped eyes and said with great sincerity, “Man, you’re a genuinely good person.”
The man in the hat: …Huh?
The malice in his eyes froze. Having a “good person” card slapped on his face, the man in the hat stared wide-eyed, looking a bit dazed.
Bai Wuyou continued, “It’s because I don’t look like I belong in this world, so you’d rather take the loss than make me pay, right? But I’m twenty-one this year, all grown up. By the way, how old are you, man?”
Getting angry usually needs a tipping point as an outlet, but the other party’s completely unpredictable behavior kept sending the man’s anger up and down, getting stuck multiple times. Instead, it just left him feeling exhausted.
The man in the hat pulled his hand free, made an irritated “tsk,” pressed down on his hat, and muttered, “What terrible luck I’m having today.”
“Alright, alright, don’t get worked up over something so small.” Bai Wuyou reached out again and draped his arm over the other man’s shoulder.
Maybe he was too drained to argue anymore, because this time the man in the hat didn’t shake him off. Bai Wuyou called for the bartender, who timidly crept out of the storeroom and began mixing drinks according to Bai Wuyou’s request.
The professional bartender didn’t take long to place a cocktail in front of Bai Wuyou. Bai Wuyou pushed the glass toward the man in the hat, then took another sip of red wine straight from the bottle himself as he pointed at the menu’s drink description. “French 75, named after the French 75mm field gun. The name’s as cool as your outfit. It’s got fruit in it too—you should like this one.”
The man in the hat shot him a sideways glance and said flatly, “It’s lemon, not fruit. Lots of drinks use lemon to balance out the flavor.”
But the word “cool” still managed to soothe his mood. The man in the hat brought the glass to his lips and took a small sip. The liquid spread and curled across his tongue, the popping sensation of the bubbles exploding like fireworks in his mouth. The unique flavor made him take another sip before he could stop himself.
He didn’t usually drink cocktails. He thought of these mixed drinks like that certain damp, shady ghost of a man—something that only became presentable by being paired with other things.
A flashy, hollow thing.
But he never expected his first attempt to open the door to a whole new world for him.
Sip after sip, the man in the hat savored the unique taste, feeling like the explosion on his taste buds was like standing on a battlefield, being baptized by artillery fire.
Bai Wuyou watched with satisfaction in his eyes.
How could someone who loves wine not love other fruit-based drinks?
Seeing the man satisfied with his drink, Bai Wuyou had the bartender pour another round. Not wanting to fall behind, he downed the last mouthful of red wine, set the bottle down wherever, and said, “Right, where were we? Oh—Indra really is a fickle, philandering scumbag, isn’t he?”
The man nodded obediently, holding the glass with both hands, looking like a little beast that had been petted into submission. For some reason, it stirred a protective, almost paternal feeling in Bai Wuyou.
His voice slowed and softened as he said, “Man, remember my lesson. With me as your cautionary tale, you’ll know to keep your eyes open when looking for a boyfriend in the future.”
The man kept nodding.
Bai Wuyou felt like his chest was soaking in warm sunlight. “You can’t just look at looks when choosing a boyfriend. Looks matter, sure, but they can’t be the only thing. The most important thing in a person is loyalty. Like those fickle types who keep one at home and who knows how many outside, hurting lots of people at once—no matter how sweet their words are, they’re just garbage.”
“Fickle type…” The man finally spoke, though his tone was a bit spacey. “He really is a smooth-talking piece of trash.”
Bai Wuyou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, yeah. Though Indra doesn’t talk much, to be fair.” At that, he couldn’t help sniffing. “Damn it, how could he do this? Told me he wasn’t married, then one illegitimate kid after another pops up, making me the fall guy… wuwuwu, I’ve lost so much hair that hundreds of sheep could stampede across my head.”
“You can’t get over him?” The man’s words were sharp. “I know how to deal with trash like that. Tell me where he is, I’ll take him out. Consider it ridding the world of a menace—and a little practice run.”
The man rarely spoke so much, and the defensive intent touched Bai Wuyou. Though his head was getting a bit fuzzy, his thoughts remained clear as he regretfully shook his head. “No can do. Indra’s very powerful. He can summon a Gundam and breathe fire. You wouldn’t stand a chance against him.”
The man froze. “Summon a Gundam? Breathe fire?”
Bai Wuyou choked up and nodded.
The man let out a long breath and said, “That’s so cool.”
Bai Wuyou said mournfully, “Exactly. If he weren’t that cool, I wouldn’t have been so blind as to fall for him. He’s got every man’s childhood dream combined in one.”
The man’s envy was practically spilling out of his eyes. “A Godzilla plus a Gundam—yeah, I can’t blame you for being blindsighted. But didn’t you say his only good quality was his face?”
Bai Wuyou said with complete confidence, “Well, his face is the best thing about him.”
The man seemed to think of something, his pupils going a bit unfocused. “You can’t just look at looks when picking a boyfriend. I know a scumbag who used that face of his to hurt innocent women’s feelings all over the place. Even if he’s as cool as a Gundam, since you broke up, don’t think about him anymore. Trust that the next one will be better.”
Bai Wuyou clutched his chest, giving the man an up-and-down look, his heart aching. He hadn’t expected to walk out the door and find a random bro only to form a victims’ support group.
But since the man didn’t bring it up, Bai Wuyou didn’t poke at his wounds either. He just said empathetically, “Thanks for the kind words, man. I’ll work on moving on, find someone as good-looking as a Gundam, and forget that Godzilla.”
The man looked pleased that he’d taken the advice. “You could also find someone better-looking than a Gundam. Who knows, maybe there’s an even cooler Godzilla out there.”
The thoroughly ignored men in black: …Wow, the floor patterns are really nice.
Quiet and obedient, not daring to move.
Bai Wuyou racked his brain. “That’s hard. He’s a fire-breathing Godzilla, after all. There probably isn’t a more powerful one in this world. He’s got a whole fourteen kids.”
The man let out a hiss, then said in disbelief, “That impressive? He can lay that many eggs?”
He could only pat Bai Wuyou’s shoulder sympathetically. “Bless you. It won’t be easy, but I hope you find a Godzilla who can lay fifteen eggs.”
Bai Wuyou loved hearing that. He stood up and gave the man a hug. The man was no ordinary person—he actually had multiple doppelgangers. Bai Wuyou struggled to hold on amid the whirl of bodies, and after receiving the blessing, he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.
“Ah, it’s already middle-of-the-night seventy o’clock. Time for me to head back to the countryside and farm. You should head home early too, man.” With that, he pulled a few random bills from his wallet, set them down, and walked out with a swaggering, serpentine gait, leaving the bar.
He’d barely crawled about ten meters from the door when a thunderous crash sounded from behind, accompanied by villainous cackling laughter.
Bai Wuyou looked back with bleary eyes and saw the bar’s pointed roof collapse like a crisp cracker.
“Cool~” He whistled.
Still thinking about going back for a bite of the cracker, he’d just gotten up when a hand steadily caught his arm. Bai Wuyou looked over, chomped down—no juice, just fur. He said discontentedly, “What crappy strawberry, tastes awful. Pay up.”
“Boss, that’s hair, not a strawberry.” The tall red-haired man who’d addressed him as “boss” helped him toward a car parked by the roadside.
Once they got in and drove a short distance, the rearview mirror faithfully reflected the glow of flames behind them.
Yep, the cracker bar had completely collapsed.
The red-haired man mused: This supernatural power’s destructive force feels somewhat familiar.
He glanced at the rearview mirror again—his boss was sprawled on the back window glass, cosplaying as a spider.
The red-haired man decided to stop wondering about what kind of ability that was and started mentally recalling how to make hangover soup.
Tomorrow was the company’s opening day. It would be a problem if the boss didn’t sober up.
After all, he’d spent five hundred thousand to have a fortune teller pick an auspicious day. The boss probably wouldn’t want to mess that up.