Then, in a normal tone, he called out, “Miss Song, come join us for a drink.”
Tawana chuckled. “Mr. Wade, your voice is so soft, I doubt Miss Song can hear you. The walls and doors here are excellent for soundproofing.”
Just then, the door to one of the bedrooms opened, and Song Rife emerged, saying shyly, “Mr. Wade, I’ve never drunk alcohol before…”
Charlie wade asked, surprised, “You’ve never had a drink in your whole life?”
Song Rife nodded awkwardly, admitting, “My father always said alcohol clouds the mind and judgment, affecting one’s culti—”
She nearly said “cultivation” but caught herself, mindful of Tawana’s presence.
Charlie wade understood her meaning and smiled. “Sometimes, alcohol can indeed have the negative effects you mentioned. But other times, it can relax and delight you, even spark inspiration. Some mental fatigue can’t be eased by physical rest, but a few drinks can work wonders.”
He poured a glass of red wine and two glasses of baijiu, handing the red wine to Tawana and one baijiu to Song Rife. Smiling, he said, “Alcohol is a form of energy, though for you, it’s negligible. Don’t resist it deliberately, just let it flow through your body.”
From their first meeting, Charlie wade had sensed that Song Rife had never experienced a normal life.
Cold, ruthless, and treating lives as disposable, she was practically a trained assassin from childhood.
Moreover, the Song family had burdened her with heavy expectations, hoping she would elevate their status.
Raised this way, Song Rife was severely lacking in emotions and desires. Though she now served him, if she remained in this selfless, mechanical state, she’d be nothing more than a programmed killing machine.
Charlie wade didn’t need anyone to kill for him.
He wanted comrades who shared his ideals.
He aimed to break the psychological constraints that had bound Song Rife her entire life.
Raising his glass to the two women, he smiled. “Ladies, cheers.”
With that, he downed his entire glass.
Tawana took a sip of her red wine, which wasn’t as fine as her usual top-tier vintages, but she followed Charlie wade’s lead and finished it in one go.
Song Rife, catching the strong, savoury aroma of the baijiu, hesitated briefly before drinking the whole glass.
Due to her lifelong cultivation, she had an acute sensitivity to all forms of energy. As the baijiu hit her stomach, she suppressed the spicy, burning sensation, but her body instinctively went on high alert.
The alcohol contained an energy that clashed with her own.
To some extent, alcohol was akin to poison: its energy numbed or even destroyed nerves and consciousness, while poison’s energy could claim a life.
Feeling as though she’d been poisoned, Song Rife’s first instinct was to use her spiritual energy to seal and expel the alcohol.
But recalling Charlie wade’s advice not to resist, she restrained the urge, allowing the alcohol to course through her.
Soon, it reached her nervous system unimpeded, giving her a slight buzz.
In that moment, she realised alcohol wasn’t as malevolent as she’d thought, nor was its threat as severe. The tipsy sensation began to feel oddly fascinating as she grew accustomed to it.
Seeing her as if she’d unlocked a new world, Charlie wade poured another glass for himself and her, saying, “Sometimes, sudden insights come from unexpected moments. Try studying how alcohol works in your body—it might even aid your understanding!”
