Chapter 55: Counterfeit Wine Can Get You Drunk Too

Hearing the word "fake," Su Ziceng couldn’t help but shiver. She was very sensitive to the word fake: before she was reborn, people cheated her with fake jewelry, knockoffs, and all sorts of counterfeit noses and breasts, all with that word "fake," but this was the first time with fake wine. It was clearly marked with a price and bought from a big wine shop; how could it be fake? She poured a glass of the famous state banquet wine; it tasted spicy with a hint of sweetness. Isn’t that how wine is supposed to taste? Su Ziceng defiantly retorted, "I dare not speak about the others, but there can’t be something wrong with the national wine, right?" Pello is not of pure Z-country origin; he might understand those few bottles of Bordeaux red wine, but how much could he know about strong white spirits? "Good wine is like people; you can tell by looking at its appearance." Pello didn’t rush to argue; instead, he casually placed the ice wine in the ice bucket and began teaching Su Ziceng hands-on. Sister Mu didn’t stand on ceremony and sat by the coffee table, eating with great relish. "First look at the color, second smell the fragrance, third comes the taste." Watching Pello’s consecutive and coherent actions of pouring wine, letting it breathe, and smelling it was different from his gardener persona earlier in the day—in the afternoon, he was dressed in equestrian attire. Su Ziceng got excited and, for a moment, forgot all about the real or fake wine issue. "These bottles of red wine you have are murky in color. Good wines are clear like rubies. And then there’s the aroma; good wines exude a strong scent that lingers in an empty glass, persistent and not dissipating. But the fragrance of these bottles vanished as soon as you opened them. As for the taste, it lacks the sweet and sour taste of grapes on the palate." Pello’s analysis made Su Ziceng feel that the wines she had spent tens of thousands on could not even compare to a bottle of cheap liquor. "Even if you were mistaken about those bottles of red wine, those bottles of twenty-year-aged, nationally branded, famous wine definitely can’t be fake; they’re absolutely soy-sauce flavored." Su Ziceng smacked her lips, feeling the rich taste of the wine already on her taste buds. "I really don’t have much research on Z Country’s white wines," Pello said, seeing Su Ziceng’s drunkard demeanor and initially conceding before suddenly changing his tune, "But I heard that a major earthquake hit the three provinces in the Northwest the year before last, and stocks of this national-branded wine older than fifteen years were totally destroyed. And these bottles of yours have labels claiming twenty years of aging..." The rest of the sentence, under Su Ziceng’s intense gaze, was left unsaid. "Let me say a fair word," Sister Mu had finished off a large crab, and the saying "Golden chrysanthemum crabs, richly fattened" was indeed true; the crab roe was so rich it left oil, and the white crab meat was so satisfying that Sister Mu couldn’t help but revel in it. "Ziceng bought some excellent crabs, but remember next time to pair seafood with white wine. Luckily Pello has some foresight. "Red goes with red, and white goes with white; this is considered common knowledge when it comes to drinking wine and enjoying food. "I’m not as considerate as Ziceng." Pello sat down and picked out a crab for himself. "I thought women only liked to eat desserts." The beginning wasn’t pleasant, but when Su Ziceng tasted a sip of the well-chilled ice wine that Pello had brought, her face first showed confusion and then disbelief. The large ice bucket Sister Mu had could hold three bottles of wine, each of a different vintage, and the tastes were completely different, ranging from intense to light, like three women of completely different ages and figures—one smiling with revealed teeth, one with tender affection, and one with passionate fire. Sister Mu deeply understood Su Ziceng’s reaction; she herself used to only indulge in drinking. No matter the kind of wine, she would drink it all in one go, seeking only to fall into a drunken stupor and wishing to never wake up. "Drinking wine should be sipped and savored." Zimu heard this for the first time when she met Pello as a young man. "Every drop of grape wine is the tears of grapes." Sister Mu didn’t know why, but after hearing that sentence, she had wept bitterly. In those moments, Pello’s eyes were filled with compassion. Of the three, Su Ziceng had the lowest tolerance for alcohol; lured by the rich aroma of the wine, she ate little and drank much, and before long she became slightly tipsy, talking more, "Sister Mu, I’m not happy today; the clothes I liked were bought by someone else, the man I like is ignoring me, and even my money was stripped away by the Chang Family mother and daughter." Her tongue was knotting, her glass wobbled in hand, and the wine inside swayed with her movements, just like the tears welling up in her eyes, ready to overflow the rim. "Silly girl," Sister Mu had also had her fair share to drink, with over a bottle out of the three already in her stomach. She opened another bottle of wine and targeted Ziceng’s glass, pouring another cup. "What’s there to be unsatisfied with? Look at you, all lively and bouncing around, with skin like dew, and at home there’s that immortal feeding you as a permanent meal ticket." "Sister Mu, let me tell you a secret." Su Ziceng leaned on Sister Mu, stabilizing her wine glass with one hand and slinging the other over Sister Mu’s arm. "That immortal will die someday. And all this is fake—my nose, my eyes, all fake." Su Ziceng’s thoughts were becoming unclear; she burped from the alcohol, the terrifying memories from before her rebirth flooding out with the scent of the liquor. Pello squinted his eyes, watching the two women slump together, before letting his gaze fall upon Su Ziceng’s face. Sister Mu chuckled, her hand caressing Su Ziceng’s face a few times, then she gave her nose a firm pinch, her breath reeking of alcohol. "You’re drunk. Everything seems fine to me. Pello, come take a look; you have good judgment. See if this girl is made of mud, a monkey shaped by a potter." "YOU are the one who’s drunk." Su Ziceng protested, sitting up straight, then turned her gaze determinedly towards Pello, her cheeks layering with shades of red, whether from intoxication or shyness. Pello’s figure in her vision was wavering, one head, two heads, "Pello, it turns out it’s you who’s drunk. Stop spinning; you’re making me dizzy." The acid in her stomach surged; Su Ziceng felt like thousands of caterpillars were trying to crawl out of her throat. When Pello turned to look at Sister Mu, seeing a hint of a dazed look in her eyes, he realized she was nearly done for, so he went over to support Su Ziceng. There are two types of drunk people, and unluckily, Pello encountered both types at once today. One type, like Sister Mu, just sits there stupefied and eventually, with a "plop," drops down and goes to sleep, leaving the whole mess to Pello. The other type is like Su Ziceng, who, after vomiting wildly, starts dancing around, creating countless messes. The few bottles of ice wine they’d had were now all empty, and in the swirling lights of Admiration, Pello tried to hold onto Su Ziceng. The words coming out of her mouth were increasingly nonsensical until, in the end, she clung to Pello and burst into tears, "Why, even after being reborn, is everything still the same? That fortune teller and Mom... they both said I wouldn’t live past thirty-five. Finally getting another chance at life, and now he tells me I can only live till I’m twenty-five." Her emotions were unstable, and she wailed, utterly oblivious to the fact that her snot and tears were all smeared onto Pello’s shirt. "Who says you won’t live past twenty-five? Let me see," Pello unfolded Su Ziceng’s curled-up hand and looked down at her palm lines, his eyes filled with shock. The palm lines on her hand were intricate and complex, especially that life line that ended abruptly, which was heart-stopping to see. The Su Ziceng in his arms resembled a weeping, fragile animal, devoid of her usual fierce demeanor, only showing utter despair, her body shaking continuously. Drowned in the potency of alcohol, her face was like a flawless porcelain plate, glimmering with shades of rose, dazzling to the eyes. Pello unconsciously held her in his arms, fearing that with the slightest looseness, the porcelain plate might slip and shatter to pieces. His hand brushed over her neck, and the necklace with the Red Love pendant fell out, the red light flashing by, piercing Pello’s eyes. His eyelid twitched, a definitive figure flashing through his mind, the pity in his eyes fleeting, and then he let go of his hold, Su Ziceng falling to the ground. Her lashes still wet with tears, she had fallen asleep, and just before snoozing, she murmured, "Mom, I won’t let you down again."