OSM Chapter 12: Could Gao Kui have given the wrong number?

 Even ordinary friends wouldn’t leave a drunken person unattended.

Let alone Li Yuze.

Gao Kui seemed genuinely in a hurry. He left his keys, grabbed his phone, and rushed off in a flurry.

This left He Zhiqiu alone, struggling to support Li Yuze in the parking lot. He painstakingly opened the car door and helped him onto the back seat.

 Worried about his comfort, he found a small neck pillow from the car and placed it gently under his neck.

A single bottle of red wine was enough to send someone with poor tolerance into a deep slumber.

He Zhiqiu rarely drank himself, and in his memory, he’d never seen Li Yuze drink like this. After all, when they parted ways, they hadn’t even reached adulthood, so he never knew how well Li Yuze could hold his liquor.

But no matter someone’s tolerance, it was unheard of for anyone to down an entire bottle of red wine alone at an ordinary lunch, without eating a single bite.

He Zhiqiu leaned over his unconscious form to fasten his seatbelt. The faint scent of alcohol from Li Yuze’s breath drifted to his nose, making him let out a soft sigh.

He knew, perhaps, he was the reason for this. And he knew he shouldn’t have appeared before Li Yuze again.

Even if this encounter was purely coincidental, such coincidences were best avoided.

He Zhiqiu stepped out of the backseat, his gaze lingering briefly on the ring on Li Yuze’s finger before silently moving to the driver’s seat. Following the GPS Gao Kui had provided, he drove toward the hotel.

His plan was to hand Li Yuze off to Assistant Meng and leave quickly.

Yet, upon reaching the underground parking lot, he discovered that the assistant’s number Gao Kui had given him was… disconnected?

He Zhiqiu tried dialing the number several times, but each attempt resulted in the same disconnected line message.

Strange. Could Gao Kui have given the wrong number?

He decided to confirm with Gao Kui, so he opened the contact he’d just added. However, the line to the renowned actor was perpetually busy—likely still tied up.

What now? Was he supposed to wait here in the parking lot?

He Zhiqiu checked the time. Just as he resolved to try calling Gao Kui again in half an hour, he heard a weak retching sound from the backseat.

Startled, he turned around to see Li Yuze clutching his chest, his brows knitted in pain.

“What’s wrong? Feeling sick?” He Zhiqiu quickly opened the car door and went to help him.

Li Yuze didn’t fully wake up but stumbled out of the car, nearly collapsing to the ground.

He Zhiqiu broke into a cold sweat at the sight. He had no idea how to make him feel better. Listening to his mumbled, pitiful complaint of “headache,” He Zhiqiu coaxed gently, “How about I take you back to your room to rest? Do you know your room number?”

People who were this drunk usually couldn’t remember where they were staying.

Li Yuze blinked blankly, then pointed vaguely in a random direction. He Zhiqiu followed his gaze… to a trash can.

Forget it. Clearly, relying on him wasn’t an option.

“Do you have your room card?” He Zhiqiu asked as he searched through his clothes. Finally, in an inner pocket, he found a thin card labeled 8203.

This hotel clearly catered to high-profile guests like Li Yuze, who needed their schedules kept private.

Their privacy measures were meticulous.

The room card had instructions for accessing a private elevator. Supporting Li Yuze step by step, He Zhiqiu finally made it to the elevator, then the room, and helped him onto the bed.

The entire ordeal took nearly half an hour, yet Gao Kui’s phone remained unreachable.

He Zhiqiu had no choice but to pull up a chair and sit by the bed, quietly keeping watch. He was worried Li Yuze might get thirsty or suddenly feel unwell with no one around to care for him.

Fortunately, Li Yuze became much quieter once lying down. He Zhiqiu gazed at him briefly before shifting his eyes elsewhere.

It was three in the afternoon.

The golden afternoon sunlight streamed in through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows.

After days of filming and the recent effort he’d expended, exhaustion crept up on He Zhiqiu.

Though he fought to keep his eyes open, he eventually succumbed to the tide of sleep, slumping against the bedside in a deep slumber.

In his dream, it felt as though a large hand was softly stroking his hair.

He Zhiqiu murmured contentedly, his voice faint. The hand paused momentarily, then withdrew quietly.