The Best Actor Insists On Living With Me! Chapter 9: 9: She’s on His Mind (2)

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

At 2 a.m., the bar street by the Yan River was still brightly lit.

In the Night bar at the end of the street, the dance song had ended, and the DJ was changing records. The n and won who had been dancing heatedly on the stage had stepped down and were making their way to the bar to sit down.

But at the far left of the bar, surrounded by the largest group of people, was a handso man with slightly long bangs and a sowhat narcissistic smile on his face, who cheerfully said, “Tonight’s trending topic, everyone has seen it, yeah? I’m Bo Yan’s high school classmate, buddies for over a decade. He said he used to like soone and then got dumped. Folks, don’t disbelieve. I’m telling you, it’s not his first ti getting dumped. Tonight is the second.”

The people drinking next to him chuckled and laughed, not taking the bartender’s mont of boasting seriously. A young man laughed and said, “You’re Bo Yan’s high school classmate, and I’m Xia Siyu’s current husband.”

“I really am his high school classmate.”

“I really am her current husband.”

The real current husband, Xia Siyu, suddenly showed up, startling the bartender. Bo Yan had changed into a windbreaker, was wearing a baseball cap, and had a pair of large black-frad glasses on his face. In the dimly lit bar, he didn’t draw much attention.

VIP room.

The bartender entered with a tray in hand, while Bo Yan comfortably sat on the sofa browsing his phone, with his long legs comfortably crossed. He had unzipped his windbreaker, and two buttons of the white shirt underneath were undone. Hearing the bartender enter, he didn’t look up, simply stretching out his hand, the gesture aning: “Bring the drink here.”

The bartender asked, “Can you drink alcohol? Don’t you have an engagent tomorrow? Aren’t you afraid of your face swelling up?”

Bo Yan still didn’t reply, the fingers of his outstretched hand moving slightly.

The bartender, with an unimpressed look on his face, poured him a glass of whisky, and, following his preferences, placed two ice cubes from the ice bucket into it before handing the glass to him. Bo Yan took it, gently shaking the glass. The amber-colored liquid swirled in the square glass, the ice cubes like crystals tinkling as they moved with his motions.

He lifted the glass and downed it in one go. After finishing, he stretched out his hand forward, the aning clear: “Pour another.”

The disdain on the bartender’s face deepened, and with visible irritation, he filled the glass again.

Bo Yan once again drank it all in one gulp, exhaling deeply afterward. However, the gloominess between his brows didn’t ease, seeming to grow even more concentrated.

The bartender poured himself a glass, sipping it lightly. Right after he finished, he began complaining, “Next ti you co over, could you give a heads up? You’re a bit famous now. This sudden appearance, with no warning—I wasn’t prepared. If you get recognized again and cause a commotion, will I still be able to do business tonight?”

Bo Yan lifted his gaze, “Just this?”

“What do you an, just this? My business is doing really well, you know! At 2 a.m., even though the dockside location isn’t great, having this kind of turnout is pretty good, alright?” The bartender, not wanting to be outdone, downed the rest of his glass, served Bo Yan another, and poured himself one more, “I say, what brought you in the mood to drink today? Was it because a certain soone provoked you? Did she say that collaborating is never going to happen, and that she’ll never work with you in this lifeti?”

Bo Yan ignored him, finished his drink, picked up the chopsticks, and grabbed a peanut, chewing it quietly in his mouth.

The bartender threw a peanut into his own mouth and, while eating, mumbled unclearly, “Or is it that scandal of hers from a few days ago that’s got you upset?”