MPWATMBC Chapter 125

The planets within the Storm Starfield generally have low temperatures, and Beland is no exception. Its year-round cold climate makes its inhabitants adept at drinking, especially hard liquor—burning down the throat like a straight line, igniting the stomach like a fireball. After drinking, warmth spreads through the entire body, warding off any chill!

Fan Lanting grew up in Beland. By the time he came of age, he was already sharing drinks with his father, and once he became an adult, he could drink straight from the bottle.

Get drunk?

What even is that?

Doesn’t exist!

He was always the one getting others drunk—never himself. Just wait and see, hehe.

When Fan Lanting arrived at the Red Mill, he brought four bottles of fine liquor produced in Beland. Naturally, these were high-proof spirits—just one glass was enough to knock out an ordinary person. To be on the safe side, he brought several bottles, a total of three to four pounds of alcohol, more than enough to take down multiple Connors.

Carrying the liquor, Fan Lanting felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. He clenched his fists, psyching himself up in his heart.

You’re the best, Fan Lanting! Tonight, you’re going to take down Connor, turn raw rice into cooked rice, and let him cry about it later! Hahaha!

He knocked on the door, full of confidence—only for that confidence to deflate like a punctured balloon the moment he saw Connor.

“C-Connor…”

Connor smiled as he glanced at the bottles of liquor in Fan Lanting’s hands. His smile deepened.

“Fan Lanting, hello.”

“Hello.” Fan Lanting stared, entranced by Connor’s smile, momentarily forgetting why he had come in the first place.

Connor asked, “Is there something you need from me?”

Fan Lanting snapped out of his daze—he had a mission to accomplish! What was he getting distracted for? He secretly pinched himself and said, “It’s my birthday today. Drink with me.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. He knew when Fan Lanting’s birthday was—it was close but definitely not today. Still, he only chuckled, choosing not to expose Fan Lanting’s little scheme. Stepping aside to make way, he said, “Come in. I’ll have someone bring a cake over.”

Fan Lanting, carrying the liquor, stepped inside. When he heard about the cake, he quickly added, “It has to have roses.”

The moment the words left his mouth, his heart wavered—was he making his intentions too obvious?

Forget it. He was here tonight with a purpose!

Not daring to meet Connor’s eyes, Fan Lanting lowered his head and walked into the room. Behind him, he heard Connor say, “Okay.”

Okay?

Okay!

Fan Lanting’s heart was in turmoil—Connor had agreed! He heard it loud and clear! His face lit up with a dazzling smile. “This birthday will definitely be one of a kind, something I’ll never forget.” It had to be unforgettable.

Inside the room, a glass wall faced the door, offering a panoramic view of the stage where a mesmerizing song and dance performance was underway. Fan Lanting casually picked a seat, setting down the liquor he had brought. Trying to act natural, he started looking for glasses…

But he couldn’t find any!

What kind of damn room was this? Not even a single glass in sight—where were they hidden? Why couldn’t he find them?!

When Connor entered the room, carrying the cake he had just retrieved, he saw Fan Lanting awkwardly perched on the sofa, his head moving in odd angles as his eyes scanned the entire room. He looked so anxious that if he didn’t find what he was searching for soon, he might actually cry.

Connor said, “Under the table.”

Fan Lanting bent down to check, feeling utterly wronged. What kind of ridiculous design was this, hiding the glasses all the way inside the coffee table? Who would think to look there?

He took out two glass cups and filled them to the brim with liquor. The liquid shimmered in a beautiful amber hue, with tiny bubbles rising to the surface. He said, “This one’s slightly sweet, it’s a sparkling wine. Won’t get you drunk, just make you feel good.”

Feeling a little nervous, Fan Lanting unconsciously took a big gulp. The cool liquor slid down his throat into his stomach—it was sinfully smooth, sending warmth through his entire body as if filling him with strength.

“Oh.” Connor nodded and placed the cake on the table. “Don’t drink on an empty stomach—it’s bad for your digestive system.” Especially with strong liquor…

He had once written a book about master bartenders, which covered extensive knowledge about different types of alcohol. He had studied brewing from the ground up, ordering nearly every type of liquor available in the Storm Starfield and the neighboring star systems, tasting each one himself.

Even though Fan Lanting had removed the label and brought only the bare bottle, Connor recognized it at a glance. It was a strong liquor produced in Beland, a niche spirit with a refreshing taste, somewhat like mead. Just as Fan Lanting had said, one could drink more than half a bottle without feeling tipsy. But after a few minutes, the alcohol would kick in. Those with low tolerance wouldn’t last five minutes before getting dizzy—the better the tolerance, the longer they could hold out.

Fan Lanting nodded eagerly. “Mm-hmm, let’s eat the cake.”

“Don’t rush to cut it. I’ll light the candles first.”

Connor leisurely placed the candles on the cake, then even more unhurriedly lit them. Just as Fan Lanting impatiently leaned in to blow them out, Connor stopped him.

“Make a wish.”

Fan Lanting suppressed his impatience and, once he had calmed down, looked at Connor again. He realized that Connor had put a lot of thought into this moment—he had dimmed the lights, allowing the candle’s flickering flame to cast a warm, intimate glow. The soft light accentuated the contours of Connor’s face, making his features appear deeper, his eyes brimming with an intense and focused emotion.

A pang of bittersweet emotion surged in Fan Lanting’s heart. He closed his eyes, blew out the candles, and when he opened them again, his gaze was resolute as he looked at Connor.

“Let’s eat the cake. Happy birthday to me.”

Connor said, “Happy birthday, Fan Lanting.”

Fan Lanting smiled slightly, pressing his lips together. “Thank you.”

The cake, adorned with scattered rose petals, had a filling made of rose jam—it tasted like love itself. Fan Lanting alternated between bites of cake and sips of liquor, ensuring that each time he drank, Connor drank as well. Their conversation drifted from one topic to another—recent TV dramas, the latest movies, celebrity gossip, and familiar people and places they both knew.

Fan Lanting poured Connor another glass, slurring slightly as he said, “My favorite singer is Lil’ Sweetie pie, just ‘cause you wrote about her in your book. Hic. C’mon, let’s drink again—this stuff doesn’t get you drunk.”

Connor turned his head slightly, glancing at the now-empty two bottles.

“Fan Lanting.”

Fan Lanting’s face was flushed as he looked at Connor. “Mm?”

“You’re drunk. Get some sleep.”

Fan Lanting hiccupped. “Hic—N-no, I’m not.”

Connor chuckled. His eyes were unfocused, his tongue was heavy, yet he was still trying to insist he wasn’t drunk.

Gently coaxing, Connor said, “Be good. Sleep for a while, you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Fan Lanting lifted his gaze to Connor, then grinned foolishly. “Hehe, there are two—no, no, three Connors. I really like you.”

He wrapped his arms around Connor’s neck, rubbing his head against Connor’s shoulder like a silly, affectionate cat. “You like me too, don’t you? Say you do. I’ll give you babies—hehe—a tiny little me.”

Connor was momentarily affected by Fan Lanting’s soft, sweet voice and didn’t push him away.

“Why a tiny little you?”

“Because I’m cuter, of course.” Fan Lanting declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Connor chuckled softly. “Indeed, you’re much cuter than me. Be good, little cutie, time to sleep.”

Fan Lanting stubbornly pressed on. “You haven’t answered me yet. Say it—do you like me?”

Connor lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

That was clearly not the answer Fan Lanting wanted. He pouted unhappily. “Hmph, not liking me isn’t an option. I’m going to have you! Haha, lie down nicely, I’m going to spoil you.”

With a tipsy little piglet squirming in his arms, Connor, who had already downed a stomachful of alcohol, was about to be jostled into throwing up. “Stop moving.”

Fan Lanting actually stopped moving. The dizziness from the alcohol was overwhelming, leaving him feeling weak and boneless—completely incapable of overpowering Connor. Lying in Connor’s embrace, he groaned miserably, “My head hurts… I feel awful…”

“I’ll go get some hangover soup.”

Fan Lanting clung tightly to Connor’s waist, refusing to let him leave. “Why won’t you just lie down obediently?”

Connor replied, “Because I’m not drunk.”

Fan Lanting lifted his glistening, watery eyes to look at Connor. “Why not?” His mind was a muddled mess, completely unaware of what he was even asking. He was merely following along with Connor’s words on instinct.

Connor gently smoothed down Fan Lanting’s soft hair. “Because I never get drunk.”

Fan Lanting frowned in confusion. “I—I don’t either.”

Connor said calmly, “Alcohol has no effect on me. No matter how much I drink, I won’t get drunk.”

Fan Lanting pouted, squirming unhappily in Connor’s arms. “That’s so annoying!”

Connor: “I’m an awful person, Fan Lanting. Don’t like me. The world I live in is too complicated—it’ll drag you down with me.”

Fan Lanting shouted, “I’m not afraid!”

Connor: “I am.” Afraid that the person he cared about would get hurt. “Fan Lanting, I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ve realized that I actually quite li—”

Before Connor could finish, Fan Lanting suddenly clutched his head and groaned. “Ugh, my head hurts. I feel awful—I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I’ll take you to the restroom.”

“Can’t hold it—bleh—”

Connor: “……” Completely covered in vomit.

Fan Lanting, who had just emptied the contents of his stomach, felt absolutely miserable!!!

Fan Lanting had good drinking habits—once he threw up, he could settle down and sleep peacefully. And when he woke up, he could actually remember everything he had done and said while drunk.

Sitting on the sofa, his mind was filled with Connor’s words, especially the half-finished sentence. That part was driving him crazy. He regretted it so much—why did he have to throw up at that exact moment?!

Lifting his arm, he activated his personal terminal and sent Connor a message: Where are you?

Connor: You’re awake.

Fan Lanting: Where are you?

Connor: I already told the hotel service. When you wake up, just ask them for some hangover soup and breakfast. I ordered plain congee—it’s easy on the stomach after a hangover.

Fan Lanting: Where are youuuuuu?!

Connor: On the starship. I’m heading home.

Fan Lanting abruptly sat up straight: What?!

Connor: Don’t drink so much next time. It’s bad for your health.

Fan Lanting slumped over in frustration: You left half a sentence unfinished yesterday. Finish it now.

Connor: Fan Lanting, goodbye.

In the end, Fan Lanting never got the rest of that sentence.

…

Before his public speech, Connor put away his personal terminal after wrapping up a conversation with Ryan. He glanced at the injector he carried with him, stood up, and walked over. Opening the case, he carefully examined one of the syringes.

His expression remained unchanged as he rolled up his sleeve and pressed the injector against his arm. The air-pressure pump pushed the medication into his system, set to replenish the missing elements and regulate his body within a few hours. In six hours, he would undergo a check-up. If his element levels were still low, he could inject another dose.

Throwing away the syringe, Connor lowered his sleeve, looked down, and tidied his suit. He picked up the speech manuscript placed to the side and walked out. As he walked, he sent a message through his personal terminal:

“The words I didn’t fully say that day—can I say them again now?”

Fan Lanting: “Too late!”

Connor: “I like you.”

Fan Lanting: “Oh.”

While eating, Fan Lanting threw away his spoon and shouted, “Ahhhhhhh!” His comrades looked at him in confusion, almost sending him to the infirmary for a sedative injection.

Connor carefully sent another message:

“I’m going to give a speech. After it’s over, can I have a holo-call with you?”

Fan Lanting bit his fist and sent Connor a message:

“Oh. We’ll see. I have training later, so I might not be able to talk.”

Connor: “I’m sorry.”

Fan Lanting: “Oh. I accept it.”

Connor: “I’m leaving now.”

Fan Lanting: “Oh. Then, good luck.”

He was already standing under the sunlight. “Bird of Paradise” had officially become an organization, and Connor could finally say the words he had long suppressed in his heart.

“Fan Lanting, I love you.”

Fan Lanting felt like he was about to faint. He turned to his comrade and said, “Huff, huff—if I pass out, make sure to send me to the infirmary. I still want to live, hahaha! I want to live a long, long life!”

Comrades: “……”

Fan Lanting sent a message: “Oh, got it.”

Connor: “Goodbye.”

Fan Lanting: “Mm.”

After sending the message, Fan Lanting happily closed his eyes. His comrade hesitated, wondering whether to take him to the hospital.

But in the next moment, Fan Lanting sprang up like a carp flipping out of the water, full of energy. “Haha! I need to watch the news! Where’s the live broadcast of the President’s meeting? Haha, I know!”

His comrade looked at him with concern, ready at any moment to send him to the infirmary.

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Translator’s Notes:

   Ahhhhhhh!!!! It’s good to see that Fan Lanting and Connor have a happy ending!!! I ship it!!!