Drunk On The Night Breeze - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Ten minutes later, Ruan Lingfeng finished dressing and headed downstairs.

Tao Zhi had mentioned he was “driving” over, so Ruan Lingfeng didn’t think much of it. He had even sent a message asking about the car’s make and color, but received no reply. He eventually spotted Tao Zhi near the perimeter wall outside the housing complex, tucked into a corner under a streetlight. Tao Zhi was leaning against an all-black motorcycle, one hand cradling a helmet while the other raked through his hair, slicking it back.

Ruan Lingfeng walked over quickly, stopping in front of him. He couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the flashy bike. “You said you were driving… but you’re on a motorcycle.”

“Tsk.” Tao Zhi produced a helmet from somewhere and tossed it toward Ruan Lingfeng, his tone carrying that familiar edge of impatience. “What? A bike isn’t good enough? Motorcycles are better for navigating alleys.”

Ruan Lingfeng had intended to suggest taking his own car, but hearing Tao Zhi’s reasoning, he asked instead, “Alleys?”

“For late-night snacks, obviously. You have to go into the alleys. Ordinary cars can’t get in there, and I’m not wasting half the night finding a parking spot just to walk a mile,” Tao Zhi said. Seeing Ruan Lingfeng standing still with the helmet in his arms, he added, “Put it on. What are you staring at? Don’t tell me you don’t know how?”

Ruan Lingfeng: “…”

The truth was, Ruan Lingfeng had never worn a motorcycle helmet. He was a man of caution and had always given motorcycles a wide berth. Back when he was a broke recent graduate, he’d commute by bike-share; even if he was running late and a shady motorcycle taxi waved him down, he’d rather be late than get on.

But putting one on was simple enough… wait, he hadn’t even agreed to get on the bike yet, had he? Before the thought could settle, Tao Zhi stepped forward, snatched the helmet back, and shoved it over Ruan Lingfeng’s head before he could react.

Tao Zhi was standing extremely close as he handled the helmet. Ruan Lingfeng thought he could catch a faint scent of Alpha pheromones, leaving him momentarily flustered. Fortunately, the moment didn’t last long; Tao Zhi soon let go and stepped back.

After checking the fit, Tao Zhi reached out to adjust the side straps and the buckle. Once it was secure, he said, “If it feels uncomfortable, adjust it yourself.”

With that, Tao Zhi swung a long leg over the seat, mounting the bike. He jerked his head, signaling for Ruan Lingfeng to get on.

Ruan Lingfeng remained motionless. Tao Zhi turned back. “What are you dawdling for? Don’t tell me you don’t know how to get on a bike either. Are you waiting for me to carry you up?”

Stung by the comment, Ruan Lingfeng snapped, “Don’t talk nonsense.”

He climbed onto the bike, sitting behind Tao Zhi. Once seated, his sense of awkwardness intensified. On a motorcycle, physical contact was inevitable. Ruan Lingfeng deliberately sat as far back as possible, bracing his hands behind him on the seat to avoid pressing against the other man.

“Ready?” Tao Zhi seemed to belatedly realize how stiff the situation was and shifted forward slightly.

“I guess,” Ruan Lingfeng said. “Where are we going? Why the sudden invite for snacks? And is it okay for you to be roaming around on a motorcycle like this? Did your manager agree? Is it even legal to carry a passenger? What if a passerby recognizes you?”

“God, you’re annoying. Why do you have so many questions?” Tao Zhi chose to answer none of them. He pulled into the motorcycle lane and suddenly twisted the throttle. The bike surged forward.

Ruan Lingfeng let out a small, involuntary gasp of shock.

Tao Zhi’s voice drifted back through the wind: “Hold on tight.”

Ruan Lingfeng didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped the seat, but despite his best efforts, the bike’s design made it difficult. There was nothing substantial to hold onto at the back, and the leather seat began to feel slippery under his grip.

At this hour, there were few cars or pedestrians. The empty roads gave Tao Zhi the freedom to sprint. He was impulsive by nature, and he rode fast, cutting through the wind. Every turn involved leaning the bike toward the pavement—it wasn’t quite “ground-scraping,” but it was thrilling. As a first-timer, Ruan Lingfeng felt like he was on a roller coaster, terrified of being flung off.

As they sped along, survival instinct eventually overrode his desire for distance. He slid forward, his hands no longer bracing the back. Without realizing it, he found himself clutching the fabric of Tao Zhi’s waist.

Finally, they hit a red light and came to a stop. Ruan Lingfeng regained his ability to think. Knowing his voice wouldn’t be drowned out by the gale, he spoke up, still shaken: “You… slow down.”

Tao Zhi didn’t reply, but Ruan Lingfeng caught the faint sound of a low chuckle. As soon as the light turned green, the bike shot forward like an arrow from a bow.

Ruan Lingfeng: “…You little brat!”

Just as Tao Zhi had promised, after a stretch on the main road, they veered into a maze of alleys that Ruan Lingfeng didn’t recognize at all.

Though he had worked in Yuncheng for five or six years since graduating, he was still an outsider. His travels were limited, and he certainly never had a reason to visit this aging district on the outskirts.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Tao Zhi finally killed the engine in front of a shop.

Trembling slightly, Ruan Lingfeng dismounted and removed his helmet. His hair was a mess, so he smoothed it back—his chestnut-colored hair was straight and hit just at his shoulders.

Ruan Lingfeng figured he must look pale, because for once, he saw Tao Zhi’s eyes brimming with genuine amusement.

Tao Zhi tidied himself up, looking like he was in an uncharacteristically good mood. “You act so steady and mature every day, yet you’re scared of a motorcycle? That’s hilarious.”

Ruan Lingfeng: “…”

Tao Zhi added, “And you actually asked me to slow down.”

Ruan Lingfeng had officially run out of professional patience for his client. “Shut up.”

In the days they had known each other, Ruan Lingfeng had rarely seen Tao Zhi with such a persistent smirk. Tao Zhi leaned in slightly, getting close to Ruan Lingfeng’s face, and teased, “I was already going slow. I wouldn’t mind letting you try ‘fast’ later.”

“Childish. I can just take a taxi back,” Ruan Lingfeng muttered, stepping around him. He only walked a few paces before stopping to point at a small noodle shop. “Is it this place?”

“Yeah.”

It was an unassuming shop tucked under an old residential building. The sign and decor were dated, though fortunately, it looked old rather than dirty. Inside, a ceiling fan groaned as it spun, making a rhythmic creak-creak sound.

Even this late, there were customers feasting inside. The aroma of food wafted out, and Ruan Lingfeng understood—this was one of those “hole-in-the-wall” spots known only to locals.

The food was likely good, though Ruan Lingfeng wasn’t particularly picky; usually, he just ate takeout or threw something together at home. When entertaining clients, he’d use review apps to find high-end restaurants. He’d occasionally hear recommendations for places like this, but he never had the leisure to cross half the city just for a single meal.

He hadn’t expected Tao Zhi to bring him here for no apparent reason.

Finally, Tao Zhi offered an explanation. As he walked into the shop, he said, “You asked why I called you out for snacks. Let’s get one thing straight: don’t go thinking I have ‘other’ intentions.”

Ruan Lingfeng was speechless. “I didn’t think you had other intentions.”

“Just so you don’t misunderstand, I have zero interest in an Omega ten years older than me.”

And now come the age attacks.

“I’m eight years older.”

“Round it up and it’s ten.”

Ruan Lingfeng finally snapped. “I have no interest in little boys who are barely grown, either. If you have something to say, say it. Stop talking in circles.”

“Who the hell are you calling a little boy?” Tao Zhi turned and shot him a glare. He continued, “I called you for snacks because, first, I don’t want to owe you a favor.”

It took a moment for Ruan Lingfeng to realize what he meant.

Over the past few days of working together, they had often stayed late at Tao Zhi’s studio. Ruan Lingfeng always ordered late-night snacks to share with everyone working overtime, Tao Zhi included.

For the first few days, Tao Zhi had assumed his manager had found a conscience and ordered the food, so he ate without a second thought. But the previous night, he’d heard from someone else that Ruan Lingfeng was the one paying. He had put down his chopsticks and said quite seriously, “Damn, this Omega is trying to buy us off with food.”

Ruan Lingfeng had overheard him and rolled his eyes internally.

But Tao Zhi wasn’t entirely wrong. The easiest way to curry favor with colleagues—whether they were coworkers or partners—was through food. If you made people comfortable, they’d be more likely to do you a favor when it mattered. But beyond the calculated benefits, Ruan Lingfeng genuinely enjoyed sharing. Everyone worked so hard; why not spend a little on milk tea or snacks to make the atmosphere better?

Usually, people felt bad and offered to treat him back, which helped build a rapport. But in Tao Zhi’s case, it wasn’t about being polite or building a friendship. He simply didn’t want to be indebted. He wanted to draw a clear line in the sand.

Tao Zhi added, “Also, that takeout you order really isn’t that good. I figured it was necessary for you to know what a real late-night snack tastes like.”

Ruan Lingfeng: “…”

Tao Zhi really has a gift for pushing my buttons, Ruan Lingfeng thought. Specifically the ‘angry’ buttons.

“I’m not hungry. Eat by yourself,” Ruan Lingfeng said with a frustrated laugh. He stopped following Tao Zhi and stood still. He felt the whole situation was pointless. Even if his gesture was somewhat strategic, he had still taken the time to ask about everyone’s tastes and allergies and found highly-rated shops. To not even get a “thank you,” but instead be told he was “buying people off” and “choosing bad food,” was hard to stomach.

Ruan Lingfeng added, “Thanks for the ride all the way out here.”

“What are you—” Tao Zhi stopped as well. Seeing the look on Ruan Lingfeng’s face, he swallowed the rest of his sentence. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ruan Lingfeng didn’t bother looking at him. He pulled out his phone and opened a ride-hailing app.

The area wasn’t just home to one noodle shop; it was more like a night market street. Many stalls were still open, and the air was filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic clack-clack of spatulas hitting woks over roaring flames.

It was bustling and full of life.

Amidst the noise, Ruan Lingfeng heard the proud Alpha walk closer. In a low, muddled mumble, Tao Zhi said, “I’ve been eating your food for days. I just wanted to bring you somewhere good… as a way to pay you back. Damn it, don’t actually get mad.”