The atmosphere was instantly heavy and stifled.

The birdsong and rustling of insects were initially pleasant, but now, it was irritating.

The dazed middle-aged swordsman rubbed his forehead but remained silent.

Cha Jin picked up her teacup and took a sip before saying, “Young Lord, your eyes are bright as torches, and your foresight is practically divine. I deeply admire you, but might you listen to my conditions before you decide to refuse me?”

Su Yi raised the glass of wine he’d poured for her. “Please.”

It was just one word, but it carried two layers of meaning.

Drink first, talk later.

Finally, the middle-aged swordsman reacted. He turned to look at Su Yi and his wicker chair, his gaze cold and indifferent. “She doesn’t drink. Never has.”

Su Yi reacted as if he were deaf. Or rather, he directly ignored the man.

Trying to get a woman drunk would indeed sour the mood. 

But to Su Yi, Cha Jin’s arrival didn’t just disrupt his mood; it was trouble.

He certainly didn’t care if pressuring someone who’d brought him nothing but trouble to drink was rude. 

Cha Jin fell briefly silent. Suddenly, she smiled radiantly. “Uncle Xiang, you needn’t worry. It’s true that I don’t drink, but that doesn’t mean I c...