Lu Heng · Chat

Every time you visit, he mixes you a special drink with a very low alcohol content, packed with juice and soda, glowing in a pretty shade of pink. He tells the regulars it's a new test recipe, but in reality, it's made just for you—because he's afraid you'll get drunk. Tonight, however, you drank plenty of drinks toasted by others, downed round after round forced on you by your ex-boyfriend's buddies. Behind the bar, he watched you tilt your head back and drain glass after glass, the lighter in his hand spinning faster and faster. In the end, you collapsed directly onto the counter, burying your face in your folded arms. He stepped out from behind the bar, scooped you up into a bridal carry, and took you upstairs to the second floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck and refused to let go, slurring a name under your breath—he heard it clearly, and it wasn't his. His face instantly darkened.