Chapter 1: Don’t Drink and Drive

In the lavishly decorated private room of Jianye International Hotel, a group of well-dressed men and women clinked glasses, drinking until their faces were flushed.

“Mr. Brooks, please take care of our business in the future.”

“Mr. Brooks, let me toast you again. You drink as you please, I’ll finish mine.”

“Mr. Brooks, wishing you wealth and prosperity in the days ahead.”

…

The main character at the table was named Chris Brooks; almost every toast or flattery was directed at him.

“I wonder which woman is so lucky to marry a man like Mr. Brooks.”

A woman with rosy cheeks raised her glass and said coyly.

Thirty-five-year-old Chris Brooks was at the peak of his energy, experience, and ability as a man. His social status gave him a calm and collected demeanor, and combined with his eloquence, it was no surprise he attracted the attention of women.

“Miss Bolton probably doesn’t know—Mr. Brooks still isn’t married. He’s a true diamond bachelor.” Someone immediately chimed in.

“That must be because Mr. Brooks has such high standards, he wouldn’t be interested in us ordinary women.”

The woman replied with a smile, then handed over a business card with both hands, her gaze soft and alluring as she said, “Mr. Brooks’s business is impressive, but you also need to find a balance between family and career.”

Chris Brooks politely accepted the business card, but at the moment their hands touched, he suddenly felt a tickle in his palm. It turned out that Miss Bolton had traced her finger lightly across his palm, then gazed at him with deep affection.

Chris Brooks smiled calmly and sat down without betraying any emotion.

After the socializing ended, most people at the table were tipsy. The beautiful woman surnamed Zhang looked back at Chris Brooks with longing as she left.

Chris Brooks understood, making a phone call gesture, and only then did she break into a radiant smile.

A subordinate came over and said, “Mr. Brooks, let me drive you home.”

“No need.”

Chris Brooks waved his hand. “I just bought a new place in the complex across the street. I’ll drive myself back—it’s less than a hundred meters.”

After the subordinate left, Chris Brooks slowly walked back to his Range Rover, leaned back against the leather seat, and showed deep fatigue on his face.

After every social event, besides a stomach full of alcohol, he always felt an inexplicable sense of oppression, and even a kind of helpless emptiness.

In the world, one is often not free to do as they wish.

“Sigh.”

Chris Brooks let out a heavy breath. If happiness were measured in money, he was already luckier than most people and really shouldn’t complain so much.

He turned on the car stereo and fastened his seatbelt, preparing to start the car, when he suddenly felt a hard object in his pocket. It turned out to be the business card from that beautiful Miss Bolton during the dinner.

“Grace Bolton, not a bad name.”

Chris Brooks smiled, then flicked the card lightly. The delicate business card traced an arc through the night and landed on the ground, only to be mercilessly crushed by the Range Rover’s tire.

In the adult world of fame and fortune, there’s always a bit of play-acting—whoever takes it seriously is a fool.

Inside the Range Rover, the melody of “Five Hundred Miles from Home” drifted back and forth.

If you miss the train I'm on

If you and my train pass by

You will know that I am gone

You’ll know I’ve gone far away

You can hear the whistle blow

You can hear its whistle wailing

A hundred miles

A hundred miles away

…

The lyrics of this song were far removed from Chris Brooks’s current life, but the mood deeply moved him. The frequent use of numbers and repetition expressed the hardships of life’s journey.

Throughout history, people who left home to make a living—some became rich, some remained poor—but whether rich or poor, the sorrow of leaving home was always hard to erase.

“It’s been a long time since I visited my parents. Maybe I should go see them tonight.”

With that thought, and under the lingering effects of the alcohol, Chris Brooks subconsciously turned the steering wheel.

Suddenly, a blinding white light shone in from the side, and with a loud crash, Chris Brooks lost all awareness.

…

“Chris, wake up, the bus is about to reach the stop.”

In a daze, Chris Brooks was awakened by a voice. He opened his eyes to dazzling sunlight and a sharp headache from the hangover.

“Damn, I’m never drinking that much again.”

Chris Brooks cursed, frowning.

“Yesterday was the last class gathering of high school. Everyone drank a lot. Besides, it’s no big deal to get drunk after a failed confession.”

The speaker was a boy of about seventeen or eighteen, slightly chubby with dark skin. He grinned, “I told you not to confess to Julia Bennett, but you insisted on trying after the college entrance exam. So, how did it go?”

“With so many people liking her, you’re just another unlucky guy.”

The chubby boy gloated, but when he saw Chris Brooks staring straight at him, he got a bit annoyed. “Just because I said a couple of bad things about Julia Bennett, you’re mad?”