In the frenzied Meiye Bar, Rong Shaoze had drunk himself into a stupor.
He had been drinking here for days on end, and no one dared to drive him away. He was the bar's top patron — why would anyone shun their biggest cash cow?
The door to the private room was pushed open and Madam Rong turned on the light. Seeing Rong Shaoze's state, her expression shifted subtly, and she nearly let tears fall in distress.
Her son, who had always been dignified and never disheveled, how had he become like this?
Rong Shaoze lay on the ground amidst a sea of bottles, his clothes dampened by liquor, and a bluish stubble on his chin.
From head to toe, he was in utter disarray, with even vomit on the floor around him.
He looked like a destitute drunkard, filthy and degenerate, completely lacking his usual vitality.
Holding back her distress, Madam Rong faintly instructed the servants behind her, "Go fetch me a basin of water."
"Yes, Madam."
