"It's nice to meet you, 'Not Telling You'," Sun Jingwei says cheekily "I guess you can call me Mr You Don't Look Drunk.'"
"I'm not calling you anything," the mysterious woman says, her voice just that bit of sulky. "I'm going back inside. If you cause a fight, I'll kill you."
With that friendly parting shot, she ducks back into the club, leaving Jingwei alone in that dark alley.
"...Oh? Now you've piqued my interest." Jingwei murmured to himself, rolling the water bottle in his hand. He had only seen her for a brief moment, but in that short while, it felt like his life had gotten interesting again.
He had not felt interested in his life in a long while, even during the month-long celebrations held in honor of his 25th birthday.
Celebrations have begun in a frenzy, and it seemed like everywhere he turned, his birthday was quickly turning less into a celebration for him and more of an excuse to indulge in an excess of well… everything. It was fun enough for the first week, but then he already felt tired in the second week!
He wants to go home, but how can he? He's the goddamn host of this party, the main star. Everyone wanted a piece of him, regardless of whether he wanted to give it to them or not.
"Jingwei-ah, can't you bring me to your penthouse for the night? I want to see your house." A coy request made, but regretfully rejected.
"Jingwei! Can you lend me your Ferrari? I want to take it for a spin!" Another rejected request.
"Jingwei, do you want a beach house? I'll sell it to you for a good price!" No, he already had 10 beach houses, and he bets that the beach house wasn't that good anyway.
He could have theoretically let them stew in their disappointment, but Jingwei once again got cajoled into hosting a drinking contest, which then devolved into a series of bets and hasty agreements created via misplaced bravado.
His father, Sun Taiwei, one of Asia's richest tycoons, was going to be so fucking furious when he hears about how Jingwei threw yet another extravagant birthday bash, egged on by his fellow peers and the heady rush of alcohol.
Oh no, it wasn't even about the money, because Jingwei knew his father was rich and would only get richer by the hour. Jingwei could fling bags of bills out from his private jet and it still wouldn't have made a dent in his income, even if the cash ended up crushed in the turbines of the jet and the whole plane exploded, turning Jingwei into gory confetti. His father already had his older brother, Sun Tianwei, as his perfect heir and he'd probably save more money when he didn't need to cover Jingwei's multiple misdeeds.
God, that was a depressing thought.
So here he was, left alone in a dingy alley next to Opal Horizon, one of the bigger clubs in Shanghai, trying to muster some form of enthusiasm for the birthday party thrown in his honour, with his own money. It wasn't the most prestigious, but honestly, as long as Jingwei had his lawyer on speed dial, he could have partied on the side of a sewage pipe and everything would be fine.
Perhaps that's a plan for next year. He wonders how many of the current party goers would show up. Not more than five, he reckons, and that's only if he bribes them with enough money. Sewage parties didn't look attractive on social media after all.
Maybe that cute grouchy woman that passed him her water would come to his sewage birthday party next year. She looked like she would if he looked sad enough.
In one look, she managed to figure out that he was nervous. How many people around him could do it? How many of them would even bother?
He stares at the simple plastic bottle crinkling in his hands, her words replaying in his brain. She had given him her water, entirely unprompted. But not unwelcome.
He recalls the rise of an elegant eyebrow before she told him not to puke on the floor.
She had no idea who he was. No one would mention something as disgusting as puke to him, Sun Jingwei.
If she did know the truth and was pretending to save face, she could be an award-acting actress. Jingwei would rather choose to believe that for once, someone out there was willing to show him some kindness without expecting anything in return.
He opens the water bottle and drains it dry, before flushing at a new realisation.
Was this what normal people called… an indirect kiss?
He had done many lewd and perverted things over the years as a playboy, but this was new. He shakes his head to get his thoughts in order.
'Come on Sun Jingwei, you don't know this woman. Get yourself together.' He scolded himself, before draining the water bottle and leaving it on the floor. There was no recycling bin nearby.
He sighed, exhaling a puff of air into the warm summer night.
It was refreshing while it lasted. Now… It was showtime.
And if he managed to get the real name of Miss 'Not Telling You', that would be the best gift this year!