Jun Ye drank the juice in the glass quietly until it was empty. He waved to call over the server and asked, "Is there a designated driver service here?"
"Yes, sir."
"Find me a designated driver in an hour. Then bring me a bottle of wine. I'll pay now."
He recalled the last time he drank was for a woman, more precisely, for a relationship that seemed to have a heavenly blessing. But what he drank was just pineapple beer, and he had his friends come along, not feeling really sad at heart. The wine he was drinking now was real foreign liquor.
Should he call his friends?
He knew that with just a casual call, any of his friends would rush over, ready to drink with him until the end. But it was useless; it wouldn't help at all. Because he didn't want anyone to see his vulnerability. He couldn't be vulnerable. He was the eldest son, a man with a wife and a family. He could secretly have a drink, but he couldn't let others know that he was falling apart inside.
