In the middle of the sentence, the person seemed to have no courage to continue, looking up and
drinking a glass of wine. He pressed his thin lips and his black eyes were dark.
He stood against the light. Tim was unable to see his expression at all, and wanted to know what he
would say next, so he seduced Richie to continue.
"So what have you been for Consuela?" Tim opened his mouth in a low voice. He didn't let the man
return to his mind. He wanted to let him say it in one breath in such an atmosphere.
In response, Richie picked up the glass of wine on the table and stuffed it into his mouth as if he
stepped on a minefield. All he wanted now was to escape.
With the strong alcohol aroma, the liquid slid from the thin lips into the thin white shirt, drawing a rosy
outline.
The rounded Adam's apple moved up and down along with his non-stop swallowing, giving off an
indescribable charm, like the epiphyllum blossoming in the dark night.
Tim was no longer expecting his answer. Through his subconscious action of running away, Tim who
had followed him for many years could know how much he resisted this question.
But he also forgot that now Richie was drunk and had no consciousness at all. He drank just because
he thought he deserved it.
So when Tim didn't expect it, he opened his mouth and answered this question. He would never say
anything to her when he was sober.
"As for Consuela, I have always... I have always felt guilty and fortunate. It feels good to be with her."
He could totally relax himself, and he didn't have to worry that this woman would play any tricks to hurt
him. Because he knew that woman was very smart, but she always hid her thoughts in her eyes.
He could see what she was going to do next.
After a moment of silence, Tim opened his mouth again and said, "If both Angie and Consuela stayed
in the same place and both of them fell into the water and couldn't swim, who would you choose to
save?"
This classical question could be always asked by most people.
Tim was drinking, his eyes fixed on the man with a frown. He thought it was difficult to make a choice.
After drinking a bottle of wine, the man said nothing. He threw the empty glass to Tim and said with a
smile, "You're so annoying. Isn't my good helper a good swimmer?"
Tim took the wine glass hastily and put it on the table. Then he wiped the cold sweat on his forehead.
'Wow, he is as resolute as usual.'
He couldn't make up a story to get close to this man who even was so drunk. Should he say he was too
failed? Or should he be fawning on this man that he was too powerful?
While he was still thinking, the man stumbled to fall on the sofa. He looked up and unbuttoned his shirt,
his movements slow but pleasant.
He had been paralyzed by alcohol, but he spoke without curling his tongue. With a thin smile on his
lips, he said, "I have been immersed in the pain suffered three years ago. Finally I met a woman who
can live with but she has always been lacking in amorous feelings."
Quarrels and suspicions were not something that one could make up from nowhere. Without the help of
another person, he couldn't think of anything else that could make up the story.
The glass was filled with wine. His mind was empty when he listened to the conversation. He took the
glass and had a drink.
Before he could return to his senses, the drunk man giggled. "Why did you hold my glass? Never mind.
If you like it, I'll give you another one."
When he said this, his heart trembled with laughter. His lean chest with a not exaggerated muscular
line.
With one hand holding his body, Richie slightly stood up and waved at Tim. His delicate face contained
his appearance that could make people who knew him shocked.
The man with the wine in his hand looked at him helplessly. He hurriedly put down the glass and found
a new goblet for him in the cupboard below the wine cabinet.
His eyes were dim, like the sky now, gloomy and desert. The moon disappeared as the dark clouds
gathered.
Depressed, he would not feel comfortable. On the contrary, Richie kept giggling, but the smile did not
melt into his eyes. It was difficult to find out whether he was drunk or not.
Perhaps he just wanted to let off the hidden emotions in his heart, but he couldn't find an excuse to say
it out.
The more Tim thought, the more depressed he was. To make matters worse, the person sitting on the
sofa complained that he served the wine too slowly, "If you can't be a little faster; I won't be able to wait
until I fall asleep."
After saying that, he yawned, looked discontented and stretched.
Rupert gritted his teeth and passed the goblet to Richie. He left his words of persuading in his stomach.
Maybe Richie would be more relaxed if he drank too much.
'It's just I'm not going to have a good day tomorrow.'
One after another glass of wine was emptied. White lightning flashed as far as the thick dark clouds,
terrifying.
Resting her head on the pillow, Consuela started having a nightmare again and again, which annoyed
her a lot.
Besides, sleeping pills were not helpful for her health, so she could only fall asleep with her eyes wide
open.
In the dim light of the sleeping lamp, there were dark clouds in the sky. In the meantime, the lightning
night fell unstintingly, illuminating the sky as if it was in daytime.
Holding the pillow in her arms, she didn't dare to make a sound. She felt as if a giant monster was
about to be split apart by the thunder and lightning.
After a long time, there was a knock on the door of the main bedroom. Consuela took the phone on the
bedside table and lit it. When she opened the door, she saw Nancy stand there with a flashlight in her
hand.
"Mrs. Richie, the electricity was cut off by the thunder. There is a blackout in the villa. Don't be panic.
I've asked someone to fix it. Here is the flashlight for you." Nancy said and handed the thing in the
other hand to her.
As soon as she turned around, she heard Nancy say worriedly, "It's raining cats and dogs outside. I
wonder when Mr. Richie will be back."
"It rains heavily and it gets late. Maybe he won't come back." Consuela pulled at the corners of her
mouth. She couldn't be seen whether she was angry or not.
The hand holding the flashlight was slowly becoming stiff. She guessed it was because of her that
Richie didn't come back, but she didn't do anything wrong.
The more she thought about it, the more determined she was. She looked at Nancy with a sincere
smile, as if she had broken the shackles of something.
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