Yet now, she still touched the soft part of her heart and returned to the youthful days when her heart would flutter. But the premise was that this was Meng Shang, and this feeling she needed was both supporting and haunting her.
"So, it seems Dr. Meng has always wanted to invite me to move in. He just hadn't finished his preparations, and I beat him to the punch."
Meng Shang thought his summary was incisive. Many times, Jiang Ruoqi would let false affection take the lead.
"Let's have a drink. It can cure all worries."
Meng Shang made a move to pick up the wine bottle, and this time Jiang Ruoqi didn't stop him. She rested both hands on the edge of the dining table, watching him with eager eyes as he took it.
Meng Shang's hands, the hands of a surgeon, held the bottle with one and covered the cap with the other. Just as he was about to open it, Jiang Ruoqi looked up and couldn't help murmuring, "Are you really opening it? It's so expensive. My 18-year-old one is fine too. Save this one for when we have guests..."
Meng Shang was struck by her muttering and adorable expression; his heart had already turned into a puddle with no principles. "Open it. For our own wedding, we should have something good. Besides, my income is enough to afford President Jiang's little hobby. Don't worry about the price."
Before Jiang Ruoqi could respond, Meng Shang seemed to remember the value of the bottle in his hand and added, "Of course... if it's not too frequent."
Jiang Ruoqi laughed. Meng Shang's deliberately emphasized subtext was that Dr. Meng, adhering to medical ethics, only had his salary income.
"I'm not a drunkard," Jiang Ruoqi wanted to emphasize that too.
Meng Shang lowered his head to pour the wine. "I know."
It wasn't a pure hobby. It was a way to numb herself when she couldn't vent her emotions.
So he hoped Jiang Ruoqi's troubles would become fewer, or... she could also share them with him.
A new brand of whiskey glass, its body slightly taller than ordinary ones. The deep patterns on the bottom interlocked, refracting the deep amber liquid, which was one finger's width, into dazzling, gem-like colors.
Meng Shang hadn't said much, but he had done a lot.
Jiang Ruoqi raised her glass with a smile. "Cheers. Dr. Meng, happy new marriage."
"Happy new marriage, Jiang Ruoqi." Meng Shang clinked his glass against hers.
In Jiang Ruoqi's view, whiskey was harder to get used to than cognac. Drinking it straight without ice, all she could taste were rich, complex flavors and the spiciness of the alcohol. She couldn't distinguish the so-called overlapping fruity, spicy, or sherry barrel notes.
Meng Shang only took a tiny sip, his brow deeply furrowed, then set the glass down and didn't touch it again.
Since it was already opened, it would be a waste not to drink more. Jiang Ruoqi roughly calculated the unit price. Each sip was at least thirty to fifty yuan; she couldn't waste it.
Jiang Ruoqi went from studying the wine to propping her chin and observing Meng Shang with great interest.
Meng Shang was at a loss for words and could only pretend to be busy drinking to avoid talking. By the time half was gone and Jiang Ruoqi was already flushed red, Meng Shang had almost no change except a deepening frown with each sip.
Dr. Meng had declared from their first meeting that he didn't drink. If he remained completely unperturbed and clear-headed, where would that leave Jiang Ruoqi's face?
While Meng Shang went to the kitchen to get ice, Jiang Ruoqi decided to play a trick. She poured at least half of her wine into his glass.
He had a night shift tomorrow anyway, not going to the hospital until late afternoon. From now until tomorrow afternoon, there was enough time for his body to metabolize the alcohol, and it wouldn't affect his work at all.
Meng Shang either noticed or didn't; either way, every time he paused, Jiang Ruoqi would propose a toast, and soon the glasses were empty.
After their late-night drinking session—more precisely, after this newlywed couple finished their own wedding wine—the time had already rolled into the next day.
Jiang Ruoqi emerged from the bathroom after washing up, the post-drink flush already faded from her face. She tightened the ice-silk outer layer of her camisole pajamas and called softly for Meng Shang.
The underfloor heating was on, so wearing just the camisole wasn't cold. But Jiang Ruoqi had gotten used to Gangcheng, where winter temperatures rarely dropped below 10°C, so her pajamas were mostly camisoles. Earlier, while Meng Shang was cooking, she had quickly gone upstairs to grab her usual sleepwear and come back down. Now stepping out of the steamy bathroom, she felt a bit chilly.
She called Meng Shang twice, wanting him to lend her a shirt or something, but got no response. So she padded over the mat in her fluffy gray slippers, wiped them dry, and headed to the living room.
Passing the kitchen, she saw the lights were off. The main living room light was also off, leaving only the warm-colored LED strip along the inner edge of the ceiling crown molding lit.
Meng Shang was sitting on the living room sofa, head tilted back. It seemed he had already washed up and changed into pure black cotton pajamas.
He was probably really drunk; one arm was draped over his forehead, covering the upper half of his face, and the sleeve had slipped to expose a forearm with very pronounced muscle lines.
Mouthwatering, indeed.
Jiang Ruoqi no longer felt cold. She thought it might be from the bathroom heater, but now she was also feeling a little thirsty.
"Meng Shang? What's wrong? Did you drink too much?" Jiang Ruoqi asked knowingly.
"I'm fine..." Before Meng Shang could see clearly, he felt a fragrant aroma envelop him. The sofa beside him sank slightly, and then long hair fell over him and his hand, tickling all the way to his heart.
He swallowed the words he had originally planned to say. "Seems a bit drunk."
Jiang Ruoqi leaned over, pressing both hands on either side of Meng Shang's body on the sofa, as if trapping him within her control.
Of course, that was assuming Meng Shang understood the game and played along; otherwise, with her build, she couldn't possibly trap the tall and robust Dr. Meng.
"Are you uncomfortable? Dizzy?"
"A... a little."
Jiang Ruoqi drew closer, and the floral scent with woody notes was even more intoxicating than alcohol.
Meng Shang's ears were burning. Every part of his body was heating up from the unfamiliar scent and body heat, making him feel unlike himself.
"Then let's hug. A hug will make it feel better." Jiang Ruoqi said in a coaxing tone, wrapping her arms around Meng Shang's waist, then resting her head on his left chest, listening to his thunderous heartbeat.
Meng Shang's Adam's apple moved up and down, and he closed his eyes. But without sight, his sense of touch and smell became even sharper.
Through the two thin layers of fabric, he could feel Jiang Ruoqi's arms around his waist, and the soft curves of her body pressing against him...
There was no smell of alcohol on Meng Shang. His fluent replies didn't sound like he was truly drunk.
Jiang Ruoqi had washed up in the guest bathroom; the master suite had its own. Why would Meng Shang come to the living room after washing up? She thought it was still shyness, or maybe an escape route.
So she decided to test him.