I am not Ximen Qing.

Song Yu increasingly missed his past life and seemed to want to go back to it. After leaving the Past Bar, still feeling unsatisfied, he crossed the road and went to the Grand Hotel and Meizhou Dongpo Restaurant to act like a drunkard.

Song Yu said the best way to sober up was to eat Xinjiang-style roasted lamb, because he was surprised by his huge appetite due to drinking so much. Actually, the so-called "whole roasted lamb" wasn't what he imagined. Just like the old Jacques Western Restaurant near the north gate of Tsinghua University, it had become increasingly refined over time, and you could hardly taste the pure Xinjiang flavor anymore. For a drunkard, it's not all about quantity; eating roasted meat is purely a formality. He's neither Lu Zhishen nor Wu Song, but the delicious roasted lamb satisfied his stomach's craving. It's a habit. Eating, drinking, playing, and having fun—roasted lamb releases the power of alcohol even more effectively. He had a WeChat message from Bai Hua on his phone, asking what he was doing. She was too bored and lonely, so she called him back, saying the live music scene must be very exciting, and loudly proclaiming how much she missed the past. This only proves that Zhang Sheng is more attractive now than before. Zhongguancun has completely changed Zhang Sheng, almost transforming him. His spirit of self-improvement and continuous learning—only education and lifelong learning can change a person's destiny—and his understanding of art and persistent pursuit of painting—show that some things are valuable but cannot be forced. Bai Hua is an excellent jewelry designer, and she has no shortage of pearl necklaces. This world is too small. I remember now, Zhang Sheng bought a pearl necklace from Bai Hua. It seems that Zhang Sheng is more charming than before. The innate charm of an artist—Zhang Sheng's pearl necklace became Tingting's love gift. How romantic!

When Zhang Sheng arrived at the bar where she was, the girl became very talkative after drinking and even forgot about Tingting. Love really can't withstand the test. Bai Hua pretended to be very surprised, just wanting to make a joke, but who knew he would take it seriously. Men lose their rationality when they drink, and women are even more crazy when they drink than men.

"So? Tell me, is she prettier than me?"

Bai Hua is more mature than before, and she opens up about her feelings.

"What nonsense?"

He pretended not to answer.

"Not even a phone call? Am I that scary to you?"

"Let's go, let's go back,"

"If you're not going back, then you shouldn't go back at all. That's the best idea."

"Yes, what will happen if we don't go back? We haven't done anything."

"Aren't you afraid that if you drink too much, you'll be picked up by a lecherous man?"

Stop beating around the bush and answer me.

"Answer what?"

"You know it yourself."

"Oh, do you have front and back eyes?"

She was overjoyed by her success, her fair face glowing with iridescent colors. A stark contrast to her previous pallor, she exuded a rose-taste fragrance; the scent of her perfume filled her nostrils, instantly invigorating her senses—such was the allure of a woman. Even stagnant water could be transformed into vibrant passion. She playfully wiggled her shoulders, like a motor, her eyes holding a disdainful indifference, much like a DJ's self-absorbed reverie. A group of men and women were lost in a love fantasy; this was merely the prelude to a symphony of love and passion. Suddenly, almost instinctively, her heart rippled, unable to control the primal reaction of love.

"Don't avoid my questions,"

"I am indeed in a relationship, I'm not lying,"

"Then why did you find me?"

"I don't know, is it like this?"

"That's quite frank of it,"

Alcohol possesses both angelic and demonic qualities; it's unimaginable. Without it, the world would be a black and white world, devoid of vibrant color. Love and romance, like Stendhal's *The Red and the Black*, are merely tragedies created for tragedy, dramatic expressions of tragedy. Zhang Sheng desperately wants to be Julien Sorel, the man who could recite the Latin Bible, leaving his small town for the big city, engaging in infidelity, adultery, and betrayal for love. This irrational existence, while logically sound, requires conflict and intensified contradictions. Alcohol is indispensable, like a putter, capable of altering the course of life and changing destiny. Without alcohol, there would be no Meeting Nana, no enchanting Nana; Zhang Sheng would surely succumb. Will the fisherman meet the mermaid? Oscar Wilde portrayed the fisherman as a saint, able to imagine the Big City's night sky as the sea. Without the mermaid, there would be no love and romance. He has no regrets, indulging in the dreamlike love brought by alcohol! Become a Dionysian artist of SpaceCity. Urban space artists should not become intoxicated by or regretful about alcohol. Alcohol may be the final propellant of the city's free will, not only energizing the soul but also infusing thought and spirit. Imagination that is too rational and too self-disciplined can easily lose its most precious rebellious spirit and its greatest imagination. Imagination, curiosity, and addictive love and passion can be addictive.

"Especially when draped in the shimmering robes of love, it becomes even more addictive!"

"Not shimmering feathers or wings, but the wings of angels."

"You understand now, this addictive love, oscillating between angel and devil, is truly beyond my control."

"You're an archangel now, the scent of Paradise Lost."

"What do you take me for? Think of me, you shameless bastard!"

"No, no, I'll become an angel again! The devil is much cuter!"

"You don't know, do you? I'm addicted to wanting to preserve all beauty in some way,"

"You are a true artist"

"I don't know if I'm an artist; I'm just interested in the existence of beauty. What is love? What is affection? I can't even distinguish between love and affection. I've given up on love, given up on dating; it's too exhausting, it would destroy my existence of beauty."

"I refuse to believe I can't satisfy your desire for beauty,"

All excuses. Bai Hua's provocation actually relaxed him; he felt no guilt whatsoever—a creation of free will. He'd completely forgotten about Tingting.

"Be rational, don't make it too ugly, okay?"

"Where to go? I can't go back anyway,"

"You're so shameless,"

“I’m not thick-skinned at all, I’ll tell you everything,”

"Drink more, get yourself drunk, then write it down. Listening to the recording when you're sober will be wonderful."

"You have this hobby too."

"I'm just reminding you that sometimes alcohol can lead to self-indulgent enjoyment, but you yourself don't know what ugliness is."

"Only in this state can one be truly confident in experiencing the beauty of love and romance."

"Your innocence hasn't faded yet, and that's precisely what interests me."

"Tingting really loves the necklace you designed, it's perfect!"

The perfect pearl necklace belonged to Zhang Sheng, not Maupassant's, so she left wearing it without any regrets.

She believes you have already given her your love.

"You're very smart, what do you mean? What do you mean? Ah, I originally wanted to talk to you... never mind, I won't say anymore."

"At least you still have some pure conscience..."

That really hit the nail on the head. Was he genuinely drunk or just pretending? He was, in any case, talking about his favorite state: the stream of consciousness after drinking. This was terrifying. Zhang Sheng was a little scared. Bai Hua, for some reason, thought of Oscar Wilde's love plays. Wilde's love seemed to share a similar sentiment with Tendo's.

"Salome's most beloved's skull! This is a twisted love,"

“I am not Salome, I am not interested in your head,”

"It's a really good idea, Birch, you can imagine it."

"I don't need that kind of imagination, it's perverted."

"How is that perverted? Can't a lover possess another's head? Salome's love was true love, wasn't it?"

"I'm afraid you'll get drunk, then it'll all be pointless. We came here to have some fun, listen to the Beatles. What do those British guys understand best? Innocence. You'll never understand that, you hear me?"

How could anyone understand the Beatles' music? All I know is that the British aren't Kafkaesque, rat-like singers, nor are they starving artists; they're very good at understanding their fans' psychology. The Beatles' songs have a mystical quality, so the British are truly cunning old foxes, seeing through human nature. This seems incongruous with her age. The music was turned up to noise levels; I never imagined her apartment's sound system was so luxurious. Didn't she worry about disturbing her neighbors' sleep? All of this was a wonder produced by alcohol. It was so hot; how did she get out of the car? And how did she get into the apartment? It's like time travel; I've almost forgotten the feeling of time travel. She was practically covered in a mixture of alcohol and sweat.

"Is this the cat that Nana gave you, the one that brings you love?"

"How do you know?"

"Of course I know. I'm quite close with Nana too."

"The cat is still here, but the beauty and love are gone. This cat seems to be very jealous; that's called a reflection on love."

This is a lecherous cat who loves beautiful women. It seems Tingting gave up on him because this place is more suitable for both lecherous cats and love cats, for the growth of love. The love cat seems to understand girls better; he knows that being a smooth talker in love is the best choice. But once a girl gives up on love, the lecherous cat's true colors emerge. He acts as if nothing happened, lazily lying on the leather sofa. Girls will always come; it's nothing. Out with the old, in with the new. It was also Nana who broke the lecherous cat's heart. In his eyes, girls are like clothes; Zhang Sheng just needs artistic inspiration and needs to be fickle.

Song Yu walked up to the lustful cat, arousing its lustful nature. The cat squinted its eyes and wagged its snow-white tail from time to time, clearly indicating that the beauty had run away. The lustful cat, at least, was loyal enough. The lustful cat was a pure rationalist.

"With a fat cat by your side, you'll never be lonely!"

"Ah, the oil painting that Nana gave me, the one with my three best friends, is gone."

"Nana loves oil paintings that depict love and romance."

"It's not the art of love and romance, it's the art of the goddess,"

"Great, it's reached the level of goddess-level art."

"The painting is gone,"

"It's normal to take away the secrets hidden in the painting,"

The lustful cat, unable to bear Song Yu's harassment any longer, shook itself, raised its tail, arched its back, and quietly and stealthily went up to the attic.

"What happened? What exactly happened?"

"As long as it's not infidelity or betrayal, nothing else matters."

"Impossible, that kind of thing can't happen,"

"Then what are you worried about? In this world, if there's no loss of love, it's not considered harm."

"What's bothering you? The connection's completely cut off."

"You've been provoked; you've gone too far."

"Is the birch tree designing me?"

"Just confess yourself, of course."

"Nothing came to an end, what is this all about?"

"How perfect the ending, only dreams exist; lovers cannot be together, yet all is well, each has gained something—Shakespeare's interpretation of love."

What exactly is love?

"You've got it all, it's all in here."

"Where is it?"

"Stop playing dumb,"

Song Yu went downstairs to the small supermarket and bought a case of Heineken. Zhang Sheng, meanwhile, was still reeling from his and Bai Hua's Salome performance. Bai Hua was clutching his head, never expecting her to do something so shameless.