Flipping it open, Cai Wenxi revealed a shining bottle of whiskey, a beacon of temporary relief glowing softly under the dim car light.
"..."
"..."
Zhang Ming was a habitual drinker, always ensuring his liquor cabinet was fully stocked.
After a moment of hesitant contemplation, Cai Wenxi's hand reached out, her fingers curling around the cool glass of the whiskey bottle—
Gulp...
Gulp...
"Haaa..." She swallowed a quarter of the whiskey in quick succession, the sharp liquid burning down her throat.
She then let out a long, drawn-out sigh, her face a mask of relief mixed with a hint of despair.
Her high tolerance for alcohol was both a curse and a blessing, seemingly serving her better in moments of distress than her own conscious efforts to manage her emotions.
___
