Late nights at the Golden Oak were always restless.
Accompanied by the curses and clamor of drunkards, they were like a not-too-heavy blow from a club, leaving you dizzy but not quite unconscious, and liable to forget what you had said a moment before:
"I've squeezed a troll's ass!"
"Your ass hurts if you sit too long!"
"A girl who knows how to pamper you understands a man's heart best!"
"Damn—she's a beauty!"
The handsome drunk looked at the woman quietly polishing a glass before him. He longed to take her fair, delicate hand, kiss it, and declare, "The perfect mother for my son!"
He actually tried it.
Fortunately, his companion, who had not yet drunk himself senseless, caught his hand first.
"Don't mess with her unless you want another hole in your hand!"
Remembering the stories about this tavern, the man felt as though the early autumn breeze outside had pierced his collar. He shivered despite himself.
"Oh, damn. I remember now. She has a man, too."
"So behave."
Catherine gave a soft snort and took away the glass in front of him.
"If you're drunk, go home and sleep."
"Oh, stingy Catherine, don't be like that. I just forgot for a moment. I'm sober now—Tang Qi Weinberg, right? Who in Dragon Gold City hasn't heard of him by now?"
The drunk slicked his long hair back and patted his flushed cheeks, trying to show off his charms.
Normally, this helped him get half-price service at brothels.
"But clearly, he's to blame too, isn't he? Who lets such a delicate Dawn-Dusk Flower toil away until even its leaves start wilting—
"A beautiful flower should be watered and tended regularly, shouldn't it?
"If I were him, I'd even bury eggs in the soil—"
"He's had too much! He's had too