CHAPTER 58: CHAPTER 58: WHAT’S UP WITH YOUR TATTOO?

That was five years ago.

In the northwest, amidst the desert sands and camping on the Gobi.

It was their first long trip after confirming their relationship.

When night fell, like a magician, she pulled out two bottles of "wine" and two glasses.

The strong liquor was hard to swallow, burning the throat like fire, and even the most seasoned drinkers had to sip it slowly. Yet, she downed it cup after cup without blinking, claiming to be "able to handle a thousand drinks".

In reality—

After each drank a bottle, he was drunk to the point of being muddle-headed and unconscious, while Nora Scott... showed no signs of intoxication, remaining as clear-headed and composed as ever.

Pedro Langley’s gaze darkened, "So that night, the wine—"

"Two bottles," Nora Scott tossed a peanut into her mouth and said leisurely, "One bottle of strong liquor, yours; one bottle of plain water, mine."

Just as he thought!

Pedro Langley narrowed his eyes.

Seemingly reminded of something, Nora Scott tilted her head slightly and asked, "You don’t hold grudges, do you?"

"..."

No. He was petty and indeed held grudges.

Taking two cans of beer, he placed them in front of Nora Scott, raising an eyebrow, "Drink up and we’ll call it even."

Nora Scott was slightly taken aback, "Is it necessary?"

Pedro Langley affirmed, "It is necessary."

Holding the beer can by its sides, lightly shaking it, Nora Scott seemed rather helpless, "It’s been so long."

Without arguing, Pedro Langley asked plainly, "Who said they’d drink with me?"

After a moment’s pondering, Nora Scott didn’t hesitate, her brow raised, decisively agreeing.

"Alright."

After saying that.

She raised the beer can to her lips, tilted her head back slightly, and took large gulps of beer.

In a matter of seconds, she finished, her red lips curled slightly, then she tossed the beer can upward, letting it spin around, shaking it lightly in her hand without a drop left.

Challenging him with her gaze, Nora Scott smiled, "Your turn."

Pedro Langley didn’t delay, grabbed a fresh can, opened it, and downed it in one go.

Holding another fresh can in her hand, Nora Scott nestled back into the couch, catching his movement unintentionally. Her gaze paused, sweeping from his brows, nose, thin lips, down to his chin and Adam’s apple...

His Adam’s apple moved.

Even just drinking beer, his every gesture exuded elegance and nobility.

Not sure what she thought of, Nora Scott chuckled softly.

By then, Pedro Langley had finished a can, tossed it upward as she had, and turned it upside down before raising an eyebrow at her.

Just as she had done.

You drink one, I drink one.

Before long, there were three empty cans in front of Nora Scott.

The beer suddenly consumed hadn’t yet taken full effect, but Nora Scott could clearly feel—

The amount had exceeded the limit.

"How do you feel?"

Seeing her cheeks flush slightly, Pedro Langley asked.

Calmly and steadily looking at him, Nora Scott said, "Just about to get drunk."

?

This drinking capacity...

Gazing deeply at her, Pedro Langley suddenly curved his lips and began counting.

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

"..."

A glare swathed in murderous intent followed by a throw of a pillow aimed at Pedro Langley.

Nora Scott glared over, both annoyed and amused, "Who said it was three seconds?"

Catching the pillow, Pedro Langley chuckled, "You could play along a bit."

Nora Scott was speechless, "I’m drunk and still have to humor you?"

"Aren’t you people from the Martial World all about loyalty?"

The drunkenness quickly hit, and Nora Scott, feeling dizzy, mumbled, "What Martial World? They’re all the same."

Pedro Langley froze.

Lightly pinching the bridge of her nose, Nora Scott’s eyelids drooped slightly, "Feeling better now?"

"Mm."

"...Oh."

Speaking slowly, Nora Scott had already grabbed another pillow, lying down directly on the couch.

Not having time to think about what she said, Pedro Langley was quite taken aback by her action.

Really drunk?

Pedro Langley wanted to get up to check on her, but before he could move, he saw her squint her eyes, barely opening them, her dark pupils fixing their gaze in his direction, both bright and captivating.

She said, "One can left, drink it."

Pedro Langley sighed, "That won’t get me drunk."

Gazing at him intently, Nora Scott just said a single word, "Drink."

"..."

Now she was being commanding!

After a two-second standoff, Pedro Langley resignedly grabbed the last can of beer.

As he pulled the tab, he asked, "Do you get wild when you’re drunk?"

"No, I’m not blacking out drunk."

Pedro Langley hummed in acknowledgment.

The conversation certainly wasn’t a problem.

Under Nora Scott’s gaze, Pedro Langley didn’t dawdle, slightly furrowing his brows, and drank the entire can in one go.

Then, he deliberately turned it over to show Nora Scott— not a drop left.

"Hmm." Nora Scott was satisfied, pushing the pillow up, covering most of her face, murmuring, "Rest for a bit."

Her voice was soft, with a slight hoarseness.

Pedro Langley asked, "Do you feel bad?"

"..."

Nora Scott made no sound.

Whether she was asleep and didn’t hear or was too drunkenly muddled to want to reply, he couldn’t tell.

With a light sigh, Pedro Langley sent a message to Butler Loxley, asking for the recipe for hangover soup.

He brought it on himself.

Never would he have imagined... her drinking capacity was so poor.

*

After tinkering in the kitchen for a while, Pedro Langley came out with the hangover soup, shocked by the scene in the living room.

Nora Scott was sitting cross-legged in the gap between the couch and the coffee table, holding two chopsticks in her left hand. Using an unorthodox grip, she was trying to pick up peanuts from a dish, one by one. When they slipped, she didn’t get anxious or irritated, just continued to focus on picking them up, serious and attentive.

Quiet as could be.

If you didn’t know how she usually was, you’d really think she wasn’t drunk at all.

Walking over, Pedro Langley glanced down at her, handing over the hangover soup, "Drink it."

"Not drinking."

Nora Scott didn’t even lift an eyelid.

"It’s sweet."

"Not drinking."

"Nothing I say will get you to drink?"

"Not drinking."

In a low, slightly irritated voice, Pedro Langley said, "Nora Scott..."

"I went to see Easton this morning." Finally picking up a peanut, Nora Scott paused, her voice low, "He said you often visit him, talk with him."

Pedro Langley paused.

Nora Scott slightly raised her head, and in her calm, serene eyes, a smile spread, rippling outward.

She said, "Thank you."

Those light, flimsy three words made the heart sink, both sour and swollen.

All the defiance, the bravado, the sharpness, all gathered and transformed into maturity, open-mindedness, gentleness.

Pedro Langley was momentarily lost.

Familiar yet unfamiliar.

Familiar was her exterior, her temperament; unfamiliar was her growth, her experiences: where she had been, what she had done, what she had gained, and what she had lost over the past five years, and how time had shaped and transformed her, bit by bit.

The familiar her would drink with you when you were down.

The unfamiliar her never thanked sincerely this way.

A slight movement of his fingers, a slight twitch of the chopsticks, and the peanut slipped away.

Frowning, Nora Scott shifted her focus back and continued wrestling with a peanut with her left hand.

Pedro Langley lost all temper and placed the hangover soup on the coffee table.

As he leaned forward, he inadvertently glanced at her, his gaze halting.

She had taken off her coat, revealing a tight turtleneck sweater underneath, both sleeves pushed up a bit, exposing a section of her fair white arms like lotus roots.

On her left arm, near the elbow, a light blue tattoo was visible.

The letters "End" were written in a flowing script, with slender lines; spreading from the upper right and lower left were two outspread-wing swans, flying outward at different angles, looking quite beautiful at first glance.

Last time he had glimpsed it briefly and didn’t look closely; this time, Pedro Langley fixed his gaze on it for a few seconds, feeling a stirring inside.

He spoke up, asking, "What’s the story behind the tattoo on your hand?"