Han Yingying had a low tolerance for alcohol; even the mildest drinks could intoxicate her, let alone consuming so much in one go?
"Han Yingying..."
"Hmm?" Han Yingying lifted her head, her cheeks flushed, her eyelashes fluttering, she looked at Ye Haofan through blurred, drunken eyes, smiling naïvely.
"Feeling unwell?"
"Hmm." Han Yingying nodded like a well-behaved child, giggling foolishly as teardrops glided from her eyes, traced slowly along her cheeks, and fell almost undisturbed onto the foie gras.
Ye Haofan's heart skipped a beat, although he knew the answer, he couldn't help asking, "Do you really hate me?"
"Hmm, a lot, hate you to death."
"Hate me?"
Like a child, Han Yingying shook her head vigorously, her tone slightly aggrieved, "Not hate, but dislike, dislike you for making me leave Shen Mosheng, and for making me so sad..."
"Han Yingying, do you love him that much?" This question was extraordinarily hard for Ye Haofan to ask.
