He just sat cross-legged on the blanket under the coffee table, looking at Yan Zao with both heartache and helplessness.
"I don't want to like him anymore."
Yan Zao hugged the pillow tightly, her nose tingling again—although she was clearly drunk, why did it still hurt so much?
She lifted her head again, her drunken eyes blurry as she looked at Dai Xinmeng, "Open another bottle of wine for me."
In this state, Dai Xinmeng definitely wouldn't let her drink any more. She picked up a glass of warm water from the table and handed it to her, "Drink some water first, take it easy before you drink more."
Yan Zao's hands were too soft and limp to lift from the pillow, and even if she could lift them, they just flailed about aimlessly.
Dai Xinmeng promptly got up, propped up Yan Zao's upper body, and poured some water forcefully into her mouth, to make her stomach feel a bit better.
