Seeing Jiang Cheng and Zhou Ying chatting and laughing, the other three immediately turned their fire on him.
"Come on, drink, Old Jiang—no fish-tanking tonight."
As soon as Zhou Zhiyun finished, Wang Xiaochui chimed in, "Exactly. Tonight the three of us will fight Lu Bu—no way he stays sober."
Huang Cheng added, "That's right. We can't let him be the only one having fun; we're drinking him under the table.
Jiang Cheng wasn't worried—he hadn't been haunting bars for nothing lately.
An hour later, with the three of them looking like half-dead fish, Jiang Cheng finally set down his glass and headed for the restroom.
He never expected that in the brief time he was gone things would go sideways.
A drunk Huang Cheng suddenly stood up and staggered toward the next table.
His eyes were glazed, face flushed, muttering nonsense.
Zhou Zhiyun and Wang Xiaochui tensed, a bad feeling surging up.
Sure enough, Huang Cheng swayed over to a Middle-aged Woman at the neighboring table—and to everyone's shock wrapped his arms around her.
He slurred, "Sis, you're so pretty—come home with me tonight?"
The woman shrieked, struggled in terror, and cursed, "Who are you, pervert? Let go! I'll call my son!"
Though also tipsy, Zhou Zhiyun and Wang Xiaochui snapped awake at once.
They rushed to pull Huang Cheng off her.
But Huang Cheng wouldn't let go, hugging her tighter. "Don't separate us—we're in love."
Zhou Ying and Zhong Chuxi stood frozen, dumbstruck.
They had no idea how to handle the sudden scene.
Just then the woman's son walked out of the restroom almost side by side with Jiang Cheng.
He took one look and knew exactly what had happened.
His eyes flashed with fury and contempt.
He strode over, yanked Huang Cheng away, and shoved him aside.
The push was brutal, as if every ounce of rage had to be vented.
"Get your hands off my mom, you sick freak!"
Huang Cheng slammed into the wall.
The young man shouted, fists clenched, ready to swing.
Jiang Cheng darted forward and caught his arm. "Cool it—he's my friend, had too much to drink."
Recognizing Jiang Cheng, the guy's anger cooled a notch and his fists lowered.
After all, Jiang Cheng's bentley continental was parked right outside; everyone had seen the grand arrival.
Jiang Cheng's wealth and status inspired a little awe.
Still unable to swallow his rage, the young man pointed at Huang Cheng. "Misunderstanding? He groped my mom!"
Jiang Cheng glanced at Zhou Zhiyun and Wang Xiaochui, who were now covering Huang Cheng's mouth.
Their helpless, anxious looks gave him a headache.
Every time Huang Cheng got drunk he turned into a menace.
Jiang Cheng sighed, "Bro, ma'am, sorry—my buddy can't hold his liquor. Let me apologize for them."
"An apology? My mom's over fifty—this is sick!" The young man wouldn't let it go.
Jiang Cheng knew explanations were useless.
He'd seen what Huang Cheng did.
Molesting a woman in public could be brushed off—or blow up.
"Sorry, sorry—my friend will apologize and guarantee it won't happen again."
Still feeling humiliated, the guy looked around and snarled, "No way. Boss, got a knife? Lend me one."
Seeing her son about to do something stupid, the woman quickly blocked him, slapped his arm, and coyly scolded, "Knives? He got carried away—just teach him a lesson."
Her look was stern, yet her eyes held a hint of coquettish resignation.
The expression surprised Jiang Cheng.
"Mom, I saw everything—he felt you up and we just let it go?" the son fumed.
He wanted justice for her.
"Son, drop it. The Handsome Guy said it was unintentional, and the man's drunk. Don't blow it up—four or five hundred bucks will do."
Understanding her hint, Jiang Cheng jumped in. "Auntie, you're generous—thank you for your understanding."
Gratitude filled his voice, flattering her.
When her son tried to protest, she glared and slapped him again. "Shut it."
She pulled out her phone. "Transfer here. I'm reasonable—he already kissed me, so no police; I can't lose face."
Jiang Cheng didn't haggle; money solved problems, and five hundred was cheap for groping. He sent the cash at once.
She beamed, pocketed the phone, and led her stunned son out, even giving Huang Cheng an appreciative glance.
The son's face was pure disbelief.
"Mom? Five hundred bucks and it's over? You're not mad?"
She shot him another glare. "He hugged and kissed me for five hundred—easy money. I hear hostesses start at six hundred. At my age I'd jump in if I could."
"Mom, what are you saying? Are you serious?"
Seeing his shattered worldview, she coughed. "Kidding—still, the young man has taste, picking me out of the crowd. Your uncle says I'm getting more charming with age—now I believe it."
Gloating, she strutted off.
"Enough—don't breathe a word to your dad."
The farce ended quickly. The three drunk friends staggered like wind-blown seedlings, barely upright.
Luckily the incident hadn't escalated into real trouble.