Late at night, Hao Jian was alone in the bar drowning his sorrows with drink after drink, but after downing over a dozen, he still didn't feel the slightest bit drunk.
Sometimes having a high tolerance for alcohol is not a good thing. Take Hao Jian for example: he went to the bar to get drunk, yet he couldn't manage it no matter what.
"Little Hui, look at that customer. His gaze is so melancholy; he must be a man with a story."
"Come on, are you daydreaming again?"
"I just can't resist mature men, especially those with a weathered demeanor. Can you say he isn't handsome?"
"Handsome he is, but he's already turned down seven or eight women who tried to chat him up tonight. Even if you go, there's no hope. Better to give up early," a female waitress by their side commented, all of them struck by the melancholy aura that Hao Jian exuded.
