Song Zhicheng was drunk.
Holding the wine jar, he cried and laughed, his face full of snot and tears, yet mixed with undeniable gratification and pride. It was the inner joy one feels when their son fulfills their aspirations.
Song Zhiyuan had no choice but to help him lie down on the long couch used for resting in the study.
"Brother, let's celebrate today, shall we drink another jar?" Song Zhicheng said, pulling his hand.
Song Zhiyuan pushed him down, pulled over a nearby blanket to cover him, and said, "Let's save it for tomorrow. You drank so much your stomach hurts."
"Haha, when it comes to drinking, you're not as good as your younger brother here."
Song Zhiyuan: "..."
And yet, who is babbling nonsense after getting drunk?
Song Zhiyuan watched him smack his lips, unable to hold back his amusement. Despite his age, he was still like a child. He couldn't help but flick his forehead, "Look at you being so pleased, good for you."
