Chapter 26: Tipsy

*Gently planted a small kiss on the side of his face.*

Cen Mo’s drunkenness generally falls into three stages.

The first stage is "tipsy." She has a high tolerance for alcohol, and after a few beers or a small amount of strong spirits, she usually just experiences a flush in her cheeks and a surge of high spirits. Her consciousness remains crystal clear, and she behaves essentially the same as she does when sober.

The second stage is "lightly intoxicated." If she drinks too much beer or downs half a bottle of hard liquor all at once, her stomach begins to ache, and her head feels heavy. However, her basic consciousness remains intact; she knows exactly what she is doing and knows she will be fine after a good night’s sleep.

The third stage is "deeply drunk." If she consumes too much high-proof alcohol, she becomes no different from anyone else: her awareness clouds, she rambles incoherently, and she behaves like a completely different person. Beyond that, there is another magical quirk: her mental age regresses, reverting to that of a child.

In short, when fully drunk, Cen Mo believes she is a child of five or six, and when she wakes up the next day, she has absolutely no memory of this period.

Cen Mo hadn't known this about herself until one time while working as a bartender, she accidentally drank too much while sampling spirits and was told about it by a fellow waitress.

She had asked, "Did I do anything out of line?"

The waitress shook her head and laughed, "Not at all, you were just quite cute, chasing me around and calling me 'big sister'."

Cen Mo was speechless. Upon reflection, she surmised that perhaps in one's subconscious, everyone yearns to return to the happiest time of their lives.

For her, the days before she turned seven were the only memories she could look back on in adulthood that felt truly warm.

Back then, her parents were still with her, and the family of three was no different from any other ordinary household. Though there were occasional arguments, that didn't detract from the warmth or the frequent laughter that filled their home.

Both her parents were school teachers, so their work was inevitably busy. Cen Mo was sent to kindergarten at a very young age, and her greatest anticipation was waiting for her parents to come and pick her up.

When their figures appeared at the school gate, she would happily hop off her chair, wobble over to them, and be scooped up by her father, who would hoist her above his head and bounce her around, making her giggle with delight.

Back then, her personality was still cheerful and lively.

The three of them would walk slowly under the sunset, stopping at the vegetable market to pick up groceries or buying her snacks and fruit.

Though they were not a wealthy family, Cen Mu and Cen Fu always did their best to satisfy their child's needs.

How wonderful it would have been if that happiness had lasted forever. No one could have foreseen the day tragedy would strike.

Cen Mo rarely reminisced about these things. Unlike the memories that disgusted her, these warm moments—while they could provide her with the strength to move forward—more often brought a deeper sense of sorrow.

The mere thought of her parents smiling at her would fill her heart with a sharp, bitter ache.

However, the memory of last night felt different. Although she couldn't recall exactly what happened, when Cen Mo woke up the next morning, she felt as if she had experienced a long, wonderful dream.

In that dream, the father she missed so dearly had visited her.

He was still as young as she remembered, gently talking to her for a long time and playing her favorite childhood games with her.

In the dream, she was five or six years old again, carefree and filled with joy, laughing incessantly with a lively spirit.

Outside, the day had already brightened. The morning sun was blocked by the curtains, casting a hazy glow on the floor.

Cen Mo stepped onto the floor barefoot and pulled the curtains open, letting the sunlight wash over her face and hair. She lifted the corners of her lips and offered a soft smile.

Even though she knew these were merely hallucinations induced by alcohol, she still felt happy. After all, the dream felt so real—real enough that she could almost feel the sensation of her father gently picking her up.

However, he seemed to have grown a bit taller, and his face appeared even more handsome.

Whatever, it was just a dream, after all.

She shook her head, put on her slippers, and walked to the bathroom to wash up. Her head was still spinning—a hangover side effect—and her stomach felt unsettled.

After coming out, she rummaged through the area under the coffee table in the living room and found her usual stomach medicine. She tilted her head back, swallowed it with a few gulps of water, and held her forehead, planning to find something to eat to settle her hunger.

Suddenly, she noticed a large bag sitting on the shoe cabinet. She walked over to inspect it and found it filled with all sorts of ready-to-eat food.

Bread, potato chips, juice, milk, honey, and some instant meals meant for the microwave were all haphazardly stuffed inside, filling the large bag to the brim.

Had she gone and cleared out a supermarket last night? She frowned and thought for a long time, but Cen Mo had no recollection of it whatsoever. She didn't remember leaving the house at all.

Seeing that it was almost time for work, she decided not to overthink it.

She must have been truly, deeply drunk last night to have such a total blackout. She probably even regressed to her childhood mental state, didn't she? Luckily, she lived alone, so no one saw her in that embarrassing condition.

With that thought, Cen Mo tidied up, changed into her professional attire, grabbed her bag, and headed out.

After the catharsis of last night, her mood had returned to a normal state, and she was largely free of any lingering negative emotions.

Actually, this wasn't bad. It was better to find ways to vent unpleasantness quickly; if left to fester, it would only lead to prolonged melancholy, which wasn't good for one's health.

She arrived at the company with ten minutes to spare. She hurried into the elevator, made her way to her workstation, and only then sat down to slip off her flats.

Her ankles were still a bit sore, so she couldn't wear high heels yet; she only put them on during working hours.

Hearing the sound of a man’s steady footsteps, she quickly straightened up, just in time to see the back of Su Xingzhi as he walked into the office.

After washing her hands in the restroom and checking her appearance in the mirror, Cen Mo brewed a fresh cup of coffee and brought it into the president's office.

To stay alert, President Su always had a cup of strong coffee in the morning. As his secretary, Cen Mo was well aware of this habit, so she always delivered it on time without needing a reminder.

In the spacious office, the man was hunched over, organizing documents on his desk. He wore his usual crisp black suit, with his shirt collar perfectly folded and a blue-and-white striped tie knotted neatly.

"President Su, let me handle that." Cen Mo placed the coffee down and immediately began helping him organize.

Su Xingzhi stopped his work and sat back in his chair without a word, his gaze inadvertently sweeping across the woman's face.

It was the same fair, delicate face as always. Her skin looked good and she seemed energetic, showing no signs of a hangover, save for a slight darkness under her eyes which she had covered with foundation.

Her recovery speed was impressive; she had clearly emptied more than half a bottle of strong spirits at her place yesterday. He couldn't fathom how she had managed to drink it all.

Cen Mo did not notice the man's gaze. She diligently arranged the documents by category and wiped down the desk before straightening up to leave.

Her eyes, however, caught sight of Su Xingzhi’s forehead… it seemed to be red and inflamed.

The man’s skin was naturally fair, making the redness stand out quite starkly. Although there were no open wounds, it looked swollen, as if he had been struck by something. And it wasn't just one spot—there were three or four small, red, circular marks clustered together.

What on earth happened? She felt a surge of curiosity. Based on her observations over the past few days, she knew for a fact that Su Xingzhi was not the type to get into fights; he barely even interacted with people.

So, who could have possibly hit the great president?

The question was on the tip of her tongue, but Cen Mo restrained herself. After all, it was his private business; what if it was something humiliating?

With that thought, she retracted her gaze, only to look up and lock eyes with Su Xingzhi.

He sat there, leaning back in his chair, openly displaying the red marks on his forehead. He could have easily covered them with his bangs if he had wanted to.

Raising an eyebrow, the man asked her quite calmly, "What are you looking at?"

Cen Mo even had the fleeting illusion that he had intentionally let her see those marks…

But how could that be? She shook her head slightly and tried to keep her tone as nonchalant as possible: "Nothing, President Su. I’m finished tidying up."

Watching the woman leave, Su Xingzhi said nothing more. He merely narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression thoughtful as he rested his chin on his fingers.

…

It wasn't until noon that it dawned on Cen Mo that she hadn't brought a lunchbox today.

She had been so intoxicated last night that she’d had no time to prepare ingredients. She didn't even remember how she’d managed to lie down or pull the blanket over herself.

She had naturally arrived empty-handed. Fortunately, she remembered stuffing some food into her bag before leaving, all of which she had grabbed from that big bag on the shoe cabinet.

For herself, it was fine; a few snacks would suffice. But what about Su Xingzhi? The man was extremely particular about his food, and she was always the one to bring his lunch. It was too late to order from a private restaurant now.

After a moment of thought, Cen Mo stood up, knocked on the door of the president's office, and went in to confess: "I’m sorry, President Su. I forgot to bring your lunch today. Would you like me to go out and buy something for you?"

There was a restaurant downstairs, but he had never been there, and he certainly wouldn't eat takeout. She would have to go to a high-end restaurant and bring something back.

Su Xingzhi looked up from his computer and gave her a faint look. "Forget it. No need to trouble yourself."

The reply was ambiguous, and Cen Mo couldn't guess his true thoughts. She turned to leave, but a moment later, she returned with a tray of snacks.

She held them up one by one to show him: "President Su, these are things I bought late last night. The dates are all fresh. Would you like to have any of these?"

Su Xingzhi looked up, watching as she held up a plump bag of cream bread like a treasure, displaying it before him, then putting it down to pick up a carton of milk, looking utterly persistent.

His gaze grew profound. "You bought these?"

"Yes. I was drunk last night and went out to buy them while I wasn't in my right mind. I didn't even remember the process the next day." Cen Mo found his tone, which was clearly laced with suspicion, quite strange.