Bigshot's Sweetie Is a Cat!

This is a madman, no normal communication can be had with him, just get used to it, just get used to it.

The drunkard's voice arrived before he did.

Listening to the drunkard's nonsensical ramblings outside, Jun Moyan frowned slightly in displeasure.

Yet, the hand unwrapping Wen Xiao'ai's bandage did not stop.

Seeing this, Qing Yi in white hurriedly ran out of the villa to help the other Qing Yi bring in the inebriated fool.

Jun Moyan tossed aside the unwrapped bandage and stood up from the sofa.

With the arrival of the drunkard, the air in the hall seemed instantly polluted.

It's no exaggeration to say that any non-drinker standing next to the drunkard for five minutes could probably die of alcohol poisoning.

"Why didn't you drink yourself to death," Jun Moyan thought as he looked at the swaying drunkard, really wanting to kick him right in the forehead.

"Burp..."

The drunkard let out a belch, eliciting expressions of utter disgust from Qing Yi and the white-clad individual, who nearly threw him straight onto the floor.

"Hehe, I actually did want to drink myself to death," the drunkard chuckled silly, his fair face flushed with drunken red.

As he said this, he shook off Qing Yi and the white-clad helper and stumbled toward Jun Moyan.

The smell of alcohol hitting his nose made Jun Moyan frown even more.

"Come, let the drunkard take a look at how bad your injury is, you made the white-clad Qing Yi so anxious he even took my liquor gourd and said he wanted to marry me, scared me half to death."

Black lines crept across the foreheads of both Qing Yi and the individual in white.

Is he... really drunk or not?

Even Qing Yi and the person in white couldn't tell.

Jun Moyan seized the hand that was randomly groping his body.

He frowned and said to a servant standing by, "Get me a bucket of cold water, now. We need to sober him up."

With him looking and acting like a ghost, he was genuinely afraid that the drunkard might mistake the cat for a roast goose and butcher it for a drink.

"...I'll go." Qing Yi volunteered bravely, dashing to the washroom ahead of everyone.

"You already got treated for that wound, didn't you? What are you calling me for, just change your clothes, and you'll be fine."

The drunkard was somewhat speechless, assuming he must have cut his hands or feet severely enough to injury a major artery given all the blood on him.

Usually, this sort of injury wouldn't have him calling so urgently.

Jun Moyan pursed his lips and remained silent, merely tightening his grip on one of the drunkard's wrists to prevent him from falling over.

He then waited for Qing Yi to bring water.

A minute later, Qing Yi came running over with a basin of water and a towel in hand.

Seeing the water brought over, Jun Moyan released the drunkard's wrist.

Without Jun Moyan holding onto him, the drunkard's body swayed, and he simply plopped down onto the floor.

Seeing this, Qing Yi placed the basin on a side table, then soaked the towel, wrung it out...

"What are you doing?" Jun Moyan asked Qing Yi, his brows furrowing.

"Giving, giving him a face wash to help him sober up," responded Qing Yi.

"Cough cough..." White Qing Yi couldn't help but cough out loud.

Had Qing Yi been drinking too? Or had he not understood what Jun Moyan, the Third Young Master, had just said?

Wasn't he afraid that the Third Young Master, in his anger, would make him drink that basin of wash water?

The wrath that Jun Moyan had been holding back all night flared up even more at this moment, and, pointing a fair and slender finger at the cat on the sideboard, he thundered:

"If the treatment for it gets delayed, all of you will go to the overseas factory to watch the warehouse for me."

Qing Yi shook with fright, the towel he had just wrung out nearly falling back into the basin.

In his memory, the Third Young Master rarely lost his temper like this.

What was the deal with this cat, anyway?

So, is the drunkard's face still getting washed or not?

Qing Yi, holding the towel, stood there not knowing what to do next, and could only glare at the drunkard with extreme resentment:

You damn drunkard, always causing me trouble!