He stretched out three fingers and rubbed them under my eyes. “Second Young Master... what are you doing?” The loyal servant William Brooks, who was nearly two meters tall, couldn’t understand my gesture. He lowered his head, looking dumbly at me, the second young master of the Brooks family, who was practically hanging off his neck.

“Money... do you have any? Lend me some first, I’ll settle accounts with my mom when we get home.” I was anxious—Edward Lincoln and Emily Lincoln had already gone up to the second floor and were getting impatient. Even a playboy can’t lose too much face. Saying you’re treating but not bringing money—of course people will look down on you, especially in front of the opposite sex. You absolutely can’t lose face.

William Brooks pulled out a string of money from his chest with a bitter expression. “Young Master, the Madam just gave this to me, told me to remind you to spend sparingly.”

“...” I took it. It was heavy, weighing down my hand. I was so moved I almost cried. I wanted to sing a song to praise my mother’s greatness, but after glancing at the chubby shopkeeper, I decided to save it and sing to my mom at home.

Even though I had money now, I wasn’t the original Brooks the Playboy. As the sucker here, I glared fiercely at the chubby shopkeeper: “Any discount?”

“Huh!?...” The chubby shopkeeper blinked his small eyes, unable to utter a word for a long while. “It’s fine, just remember to pick the best ones. Only three, any more and you won’t finish them—I’ll put the rest on your tab.” After threatening the shopkeeper, I ascended the stairs with composure under the stunned gazes of Edward Lincoln and Emily Lincoln: “Your little brother has always been thrifty and good at managing the household... hehehe. I was just joking with the shopkeeper.”

“Private room on the second floor by the water, take good care of the two young masters and the young lady.” The shopkeeper, finally coming to his senses, shouted from downstairs, his voice starting to crack.

……

That damn little loli must have gone crazy, picking only the most expensive dishes—filling the whole table. All natural, pollution-free, handmade—so satisfying. Chicken legs, duck feet, fatty fish, braised meat... Since I’m the one treating, I have to eat my money’s worth. These past few days, my mom’s been keeping me on a tight leash, saying I was seriously injured and could only have broths and soups, nothing hard to chew. Porridge, chicken soup, tonic soup—I was so weak I could barely move. Now, just seeing oily, meaty dishes makes my eyes go green.

Edward Lincoln gave me a strange look. “My good brother... Prime Minister Fang, Prime Minister Fang is just too...” He sighed deeply, rescued a still-intact piece of tofu from the plate in front of me, and placed it in the bowl of Emily Lincoln, who was staring at me in a daze as I ate and drank.

“Hm?” I stuffed a piece of chicken into my mouth. What does my eating have to do with Prime Minister Fang?

“You must have suffered a lot at home, little brother... Usually when you come here, you never touch these things...” Edward Lincoln pointed at the fish head in my bowl with his chopsticks, looking at me as if visiting a fellow inmate eating prison food.

“No... I was seriously injured at home these days, couldn’t touch meat, so...” Nutrition, you know? Fish heads are rich in minerals—iron, zinc, calcium, phosphorus, potassium, all kinds of amino acids... Forget it, no point explaining to the uneducated.

“Oh, looks like I misunderstood. Let me drink first as a toast.” Edward Lincoln lifted the wine pot, filled his cup, and downed three lacquered ear cups in a row without changing expression. These cups aren’t small—each must be at least 100ml.

“Impressive drinking!” I couldn’t help but give a thumbs up and shout. I used to do this back in my student days—at class gatherings, in front of pretty girls, my courage would swell from the size of a fingernail to that of a leopard’s gall. My tolerance for baijiu was barely more than a bottle cap, but I’d compete with classmates who claimed they could drink three jin. Three bowls of Guizhou local liquor (our nickname for Maotai)... The result was vomiting until the world spun, passing out, sun and moon gone, then chasing dogs in a classmate’s backyard in the middle of the night. The next morning, my pretty classmate tearfully complained to me, hugging her dog whose tail was a bit bent out of shape... so tragic.

“I’ve already had three cups, Chris, do you want me to pour it down your throat?” Handsome Lincoln was being mischievous. The little loli ate delicately, her eyes squinting into crescent moons as she stared at me.

I glanced at the rather large wine cup, feeling a bit guilty. “Brother, I’m still recovering from a serious injury—how about I use tea instead of wine?”

Before Edward Lincoln could reply, Emily Lincoln started whining: “Third Brother, that’s enough, Young Master Brooks is too weak—he could be blown over by the wind. If he drinks and something happens...” She looked at me with big squinting eyes. This... this girl is just too much! Who’s afraid of whom? I slapped the table: “Waiter, bring a bull’s-eye cup! Today, your little brother won’t go home until I’m drunk with Brother De.”

“...” The waiter’s triangular eyes widened, the little loli’s crescent eyes widened, and Handsome Lincoln’s electric eyes widened. Three pairs of eyes stared at me in unison. I glared fiercely at the waiter in return. The royal backing here is too strong—better not provoke them.

“S-sir... I really don’t know what a bull’s-eye cup is...” Maybe my fierce look was too intimidating for my burly frame—the waiter was about to cry, his lips trembling.

“Brother Chris... this bull’s-eye cup...” Edward Lincoln seemed a bit confused too.

“Aha... look at me, I got muddled for a moment. I’ve been in seclusion at home these days, and was just thinking of drinking with a cup the size of a bull’s eye, reciting poetry to the moon—one of life’s great pleasures...” I quickly tried to cover it up with nonsense. Looks like the Tang Dynasty doesn’t have bull’s-eye cups yet...