Nighttime.
At an outdoor beer street in Crimson Riverfront, I and Brittany Scott sat across from each other, eating barbecue skewers with a table full of beer.
Soon, a red Maserati sports car drove up, and Elizabeth Campbell stepped out wearing a high-slit dress, capturing the attention of everyone around. She tossed her long hair into a ponytail, sat down, and took a small sip from an open beer.
"Here, congratulations on your promotion." Elizabeth Campbell raised her beer bottle, gesturing for a toast.
I had my cup raised, little realizing that Elizabeth would boldly use the bottle.
"The bottle's mouth is so big, can you manage it?" I teased her.
Elizabeth Campbell had not yet grasped the jest. Two seconds later, her cheeks flushed red, and under the table, her high heels found my foot: "Getting bullied, yet you still have the mood to joke around? You're a serviceman, does it make sense to drink with a cup?"
I winced in pain, gritting my teeth.
