Paul was overwhelmed and truly felt exhausted.

“So, Paul, how is it?” Lionel asked eagerly.

“It’s delicious,” Paul replied.

Lionel’s eyes lit up, feeling like he’d found a kindred spirit, or a long-lost soulmate. “If you like it, have more! And try this black-pepper beef, with my special homemade sauce…”

Throughout the meal, Paul kept saying, “Delicious… Very flavorful… The preparation is unique… I’ve never had anything like this before…”

This only made Lionel more enthusiastic.

When Paul finally stood up to leave, he felt a sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted.

But then…

Lionel called out, “Mimi, see your Uncle Paul out.”

Paul was in a state of disbelief. He was completely drained.

“Oh, sure!” Miranda got up.

Perhaps the wine had caught up with her because she felt a bit lightheaded, reacting a beat slower than usual. But her expression remained as composed as ever, and her gaze was still clear.

She walked Paul to the door. Just as they stepped outside, the wind blew the door shut behind them with a loud thud.

There wasn’t much distance to cover–after all, he lived right next door.

She waved goodbye to Paul. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the wine, or perhaps a sudden slip of the tongue, but she blurted out, “Bye-bye, Uncle Paul.”

Paul froze, abruptly turning to look at her. His eyes darkened, like two deep whirlpools.

He took a step closer, speaking each word slowly, “What did you just call me? Hmm?”

There was a subtle rise in his tone, a hint of danger that sent a tingling sensation through Miranda’s ears. She nervously looked up, meeting his gaze, unprepared for the intensity in his eyes.

One second, two seconds… It took a full five seconds before Miranda finally processed what had happened.

Whether it was from embarrassment or genuine intoxication, her cheeks suddenly flushed with color. The blush spread quickly, creeping up to her ears, turning them a bright red.

Her clear, bright eyes seemed to have been washed by a mountain spring–pure and untainted. As she bit her lip, a shy, bashful expression surfaced.

“I’m sorry… I–I don’t even know how I ended up saying that. I meant to say Dr. Jefferson….”

Miranda was utterly embarrassed as she covered her burning cheeks, wishing she could just faint on the spot.

At that moment, the man let out a low chuckle. “Will you still dare to drink so much next time?”

Paul had already noticed that Miranda had a bit of a penchant for alcohol, whether it was Winter with drinks or pulling out a beer when she invited him over for a meal.

He hadn’t expected her to be this bold, though–drinking glass after glass right in front of her parents.

“You’re really quite brave,” he said, gently tapping her on the head.

Both of them froze at the action.

Paul was stunned by how quickly he reacted. His rational mind told him it wasn’t appropriate; she was a lady, and such an intimate gesture might lead to misunderstanding.

But somehow, he’d already acted before thinking.

Miranda, on the other hand, was completely bewildered.

The tap wasn’t forceful, barely more than a brush across her hair. Half of her confusion came from being tipsy, slowing down her reactions. The other half was due to…

“Dr. Jefferson, don’t you know that getting tapped on the head can make someone dumber?”

Paul cleared his throat and replied quickly, “I know now.”

“So what if I actually get dumber?”

“You…”

“If I turn dumb, how will I participate in the Olympiad competitions? How will I win the gold medal!”

Paul was so confused.

Olympiad competitions? Gold medal?

He paused for two seconds. “…Miranda, what grade are you in right now?”

“10th grade, why?”

Paul was dumbfounded.

Great! She was definitely drunk.