Given Shen Hao’s unusual circumstances, his manager expedited the resignation process and approved it immediately. However, his final salary wouldn’t be paid out until the regular payday, along with everyone else’s.

Shen Hao didn’t object. After a brief word with his manager, he returned to his desk to pack up his personal belongings.

Everything had been fine—until his coworkers saw him suddenly clearing out his things, clearly preparing to leave. Naturally, those who knew him well came over to ask what was going on. He had to keep giving vague answers while packing, and soon enough, everything was gathered. By the time he was ready to go, his concerned colleagues seemed to have pieced together something was seriously wrong. As he left, several of them came up to offer words of encouragement.

It drained him emotionally—but he still had to force a smile and thank them for their concern.

Only after he finally stepped out of the office floor, hugging his box of belongings into the elevator, did he allow himself to relax.

Once outside the building, he first went back to his apartment to drop off his things. Looking around his rented room, he decided to keep leasing it for now—not just because his lease hadn’t expired yet, but also because after the surgery, he’d need to return to this area to look for a new job. This place could serve as a temporary base until he settled into something more permanent.

Having made up his mind, he checked the time—it was already 6 p.m. Time really flew. He’d left the office just past 4, and after packing and lingering a bit, night had already fallen.

By now, he figured the office was probably buzzing with rumors that he had a terminal illness.

At that thought, he could only shake his head with a helpless, bitter smile.

He didn’t even know whether he should feel relieved or devastated. His emotions were a tangled mess—impossible to describe. On one hand, he was glad the abdominal pain wasn’t cancer… but on the other, this strange condition felt even more unbearable than a death sentence, impossible to accept.

In the end, overwhelmed by helplessness, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Hey! Get your ass out here for drinks!” he barked into the phone—and hung up before the other person could even reply.

Shen Hao didn’t have many friends. In a situation like this, there was really only one person he could talk to.

After hanging up, he grabbed his keys and phone, stepped out of his apartment, and waited at the entrance of his residential complex.

Not long after, a car pulled up to the curb. Out stepped a sharply dressed young man in an expensive suit—the very picture of a successful businessman.

The moment he got out, he spotted Shen Hao waving at him from the gate.

“Eunuch! Get over here!” Shen Hao called out, using his friend’s old nickname, a grin spreading across his face.

“Damn it! Can you not call me that in public?!” The man—whose real name was Guo Zhengde—hurried over, half-embarrassed, half-annoyed. “If someone hears that, they’ll really think I’m a eunuch!”

Guo Zhengde, aka “Eunuch,” had been Shen Hao’s closest friend since university. Back in their dorm, the four roommates had all gotten along well—but Shen Hao and Guo Zhengde had clicked the most. Even after graduation, they’d stayed in close contact, especially now that Guo also lived in Huihai District, Nanzhou City.

The nickname came from his name: “Zhengde” reminded people of “Sandezi,” the little eunuch who accompanied Emperor Kangxi in the popular historical drama Kangxi Incognito. The joke stuck, and “Eunuch” became his lifelong tag.

Unlike Shen Hao, who came from an ordinary family, Guo Zhengde was a classic rich second-generation heir. His family owned several companies. After graduation, he’d followed Shen Hao into the workforce for a year—just to experience firsthand the so-called “blessing” of the 996 work schedule (9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week)—and then promptly quit to join the family business.

Originally, his family’s headquarters weren’t in Nanzhou—but with recent national policy shifts favoring southern development, savvy businessmen like his father sensed the opportunity. So Guo was sent to Huihai New District with startup capital from home. In record time, he became general manager of his own company, married a beautiful, well-educated wife, and seemingly reached the pinnacle of life.

Yet through all that success, his friendship with Shen Hao had never changed.

“You idiot,” Guo said as he strode over, “what’s going on? Why the sudden drinking session?”

As Shen Hao’s best friend, Guo knew very well that Shen Hao was the kind of guy who never smoked or drank—ever. So this sudden demand for alcohol could only mean something serious had happened.

And for a man who never drank? It was almost always heartbreak. Anyone could guess that.

“Did you get dumped?” Guo asked as he drew closer. Though Shen Hao was smiling, the pain in his eyes was unmistakable—no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Guo had seen that look before. On countless friends who’d just had their hearts shattered.

In short: a forced smile masking deep sorrow.

Instead of answering, Shen Hao looked him up and down and asked, “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, come on!” Guo laughed. “You called out of the blue saying you needed to drink—I thought you were gonna do something stupid, so I rushed over right away!”

Shen Hao felt a pang of guilt. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt something important.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It was just some boring networking cocktail party. I go to like three of those a month—they’re basically just places to look at pretty women. If it were actually important, do you think I’d really drop everything just because you said ‘let’s drink’?” Guo grinned.

Shen Hao nodded. He understood. If it had been urgent, Guo would’ve called back to explain he couldn’t come. The fact that he showed up without hesitation meant it truly wasn’t important—just another obligatory social event.

“Alright, enough talk,” Guo said, sensing Shen Hao’s distress. “You said you wanted to drink—let’s go!”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Shen Hao turned and started walking across the street—leaving Guo momentarily stunned, still holding his car keys.

“Hey! Aren’t we taking my car?” Guo called out.

“What car? We’re drinking nearby!” Shen Hao waved dismissively without turning back.

Guo could only shrug, jump into his car, quickly find a nearby parking spot, turn off the engine, and jog after him.

Near the residential complex was a lively street full of late-night snack stalls.

Shen Hao led them to one of these small eateries. By the time Guo caught up, Shen Hao was already seated at an empty table, waiting.

“Seriously?!” Guo groaned dramatically. “I’m the general manager of a company, wearing a suit that costs thousands—and you’re treating me to this place?!”  

But even as he complained, he plopped down across from Shen Hao faster than his words could finish. Then, with theatrical flair, he rubbed a finger across the tabletop, as if checking for dust or grease.

To his mild disappointment, the place was actually quite clean—at least the tables were. Probably because it was still early, and the stall had just opened for the night.

“Boss! Bring us a whole case of beer!” Shen Hao shouted into the shop, ignoring Guo entirely.

“Whoa! You’re serious?!” Guo’s eyes widened. Neither of them were big drinkers, and their tolerance was low. A whole case was a lot—especially for Shen Hao, who usually passed out after two bottles. A few more, and he’d be unconscious.

“Dead serious. I’m treating,” Shen Hao said.

He wasn’t lying. He genuinely wanted to get drunk—maybe if he blacked out and woke up, he’d find all of this had just been a nightmare.

“Alright then!” Guo gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll drink with you till we drop!”

A case of beer was brought out and set beside the table. Guo stood up and dashed into the stall, peering into the food display case and loudly ordering dishes.

Shen Hao didn’t wait. He opened the cardboard box, pulled out two bottles, popped the caps, and handed one to Guo.

“I’m gonna make you bleed money tonight!” Guo returned with a mischievous grin.

“Go ahead. Order whatever you want,” Shen Hao said, raising his bottle. “Cheers!”

They hadn’t even started eating yet, but the drinking had already begun. Guo raised an eyebrow, clinked bottles with him, and said, “Listen, Haozi—if you’re in trouble, just tell me. I can’t fix everything, but when it comes to money? I’ve got you covered. No bragging, but I can pull out a few hundred thousand without breaking a sweat. If it’s millions… well, I’ll just swallow my pride and ask my old man. Seriously—did something bad happen?”

“There is something,” Shen Hao said after taking a swig, “but it’s not something money can fix.”

Guo’s face fell. “Then I really don’t know how to help,” he sighed, shaking his head as if to say, All I have is money, and even that’s useless.

Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Wait—did you confess to someone and get rejected?”

“…No,” Shen Hao shook his head. “It’s not about money. And it’s not about love either.”

“Then what is it?” Guo frowned, completely baffled.

“It’s just… something that can’t be fixed,” Shen Hao said, taking another long gulp.

Guo realized then that Shen Hao wasn’t just drinking—he was trying to get obliterated. Scratching his head, he turned toward the stall and yelled, “Boss! A plate of peanuts!”

Then he muttered to himself, “At least peanuts’ll slow down the drunk—better than drinking straight.”

Shen Hao just smiled faintly. He didn’t care. Tonight, he wanted to get wasted.

Soon, the peanuts arrived. Guo kept him company, drinking slowly while steering the conversation toward lighter topics—mostly stories about running his company.

Somehow, the talk drifted back to their university days. Shen Hao’s mood lifted slightly. The two laughed, reminisced, and drank freely, getting more animated with every story.

Before they knew it, all the dishes and grilled skewers were gone—and the entire case of beer was empty.

Shen Hao, who always claimed two bottles would knock him out, had somehow stayed up this whole time—though he was now swaying, glassy-eyed, and clearly deep in his cups.

Guo, whose tolerance was actually much higher than he let on, only felt mildly dizzy. Seeing Shen Hao completely blitzed, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number to send someone to pick them up.