Damn, a Professional Second-Generation Rich

The two groups resumed their game.

Midway through, a waiter brought over a fruit platter and snacks, placing them on the table.

Two hours later, Su Yang's side had lost five rounds, while Zhao Rui's group had lost fourteen.

Gu Qingqing, after downing over a dozen drinks in quick succession, couldn't hold it in any longer and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. When she returned, she collapsed onto the couch and immediately fell asleep.

The first casualty had emerged, leaving both sides evenly matched with four members each.

By now, Zhao Rui was also feeling a slight buzz, his face flushed, though he was still far from being truly drunk.

It seemed his alcohol tolerance was indeed above average for an ordinary person. The other three, however, remained completely unfazed.

While Qiao Lianhu and Kong Fang showed no signs of intoxication, Xia Li also appeared perfectly fine, having not skipped a single drink the entire time.

Yet she still looked as composed and cheerful as ever, her complexion unchanged.

Su Yang thought to himself, How is this woman such a heavyweight too? Good thing I’ve got my cheat skills—otherwise, with my old drinking capacity, I’d probably be passed out by now like the rest.

Zhao Rui let out a tipsy burp and waved his hand. "Let’s switch games. This one’s getting boring."

Su Yang grinned. "Sure, whatever you want to play."

Zhao Rui’s eyes gleamed as he glanced at Lu Yun and the others before suggesting with a smirk, "How about something a little more... unconventional?"

"Like what?" Liu Bo chimed in.

"Arm wrestling."

"Arm... wrestling?"

"Yeah. The lineup’s perfect—three guys and a girl on each side. So it’s 3v3, plus a 1v1."

Meng Wenzhou assessed both groups and nodded. It was true—the numbers and gender ratios matched perfectly.

He glanced at Su Yang and Liu Bo, thinking, No worries about the big guy. Su Yang already showed his strength back in Lucheng, so he should be fine. I’m probably about even with Zhao Rui. We’ve got a shot.

"Sounds good," Meng Wenzhou agreed.

Zhao Rui smirked at his compliance. "As expected of Young Master Meng—always up for anything."

Pan Ning, who had been quiet, spoke up coolly, "I’ll sit this one out. Leave the physical stuff to you guys."

Xia Li also raised her hand with a laugh. "Same here. You six can handle it."

Zhao Rui chuckled and turned back to Meng Wenzhou. "Fine, then. Just us six. What’s the penalty for losing?"

Meng Wenzhou thought for a moment before replying, "If you lose, you finish the remaining half of the alcohol on the table and cover the entire bar’s tab for the night."

A flicker of coldness flashed in Zhao Rui’s eyes, but he clapped his hands and laughed. "Hah! Young Master Meng knows how to set the stakes. Deal. If I lose, I’ll foot the bill alone."

Meng Wenzhou smirked. "Bold."

"Meh, it’s not that much. Just a lucky break for everyone else here."

"And if we lose?" Meng Wenzhou asked.

Zhao Rui lowered his head for a couple of seconds before looking up at Lu Yun and the other girls with a grin. "If you lose, one of these four lovely ladies adds me on WeChat. Fair, right?"

Meng Wenzhou was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that kind of demand.

He knew exactly what Zhao Rui was scheming, but a simple WeChat add wasn’t a big deal. They could always delete him later after the night ended.

He huddled with the four girls and quietly explained his thoughts. They nodded in agreement.

"Fine. It’s a deal."

"Then let’s begin. Who’s up against who?" Liu Bo was already pumped, thinking, This is my damn time to shine. Trying to arm-wrestle me? Good luck!

Zhao Rui looked at Meng Wenzhou. "You and me first, Young Master Meng?"

Meng Wenzhou nodded. "Sure."

Qiao Lianhu then turned to Liu Bo with a light chuckle. "How about you and me?"

Liu Bo shrugged. "Whatever. Doesn’t matter who I go against."

That left Kong Fang, who eyed Su Yang. "Guess that means you and me, Brother Su."

Su Yang smiled faintly. "Works for me."

The girls cleared the space as the six guys took their positions facing each other.

Zhao Rui grinned at Meng Wenzhou. "Ladies first, Young Master Meng."

"Right or left hand?"

"Right."

"Got it."

They extended their right hands and clasped them together. Liu Bo, acting as referee, gripped their wrists and announced, "I’ll count down. On ‘one,’ you start. Whoever’s hand touches the table or breaks elbow contact first loses."

"Understood."

"Ready—three, two, one!"

The moment Liu Bo finished, both Meng Wenzhou and Zhao Rui strained against each other.

For a while, neither gained an advantage, locked in a stalemate.

Su Yang, watching from the side, called out in his mind:

—System, check Meng Wenzhou’s stats.

[Meng Wenzhou, Age: 26]

[Height: 181 cm]

[Weight: 73 kg]

[Physique: 69]

[Looks: 82]

[Build: 78]

[Combat Rating: E-class, 45]

[Occupation: Rich Second Generation]

—Damn, ‘Rich Second Generation’ as a job?

[This individual has multiple occupations. Not all are listed.]

—Whatever. But his combat rating’s lower than Zhao Rui’s. Does that equate to strength?

[Related, but not necessarily. Higher combat rating doesn’t always mean greater strength.]

—System, you really need to optimize this. Should display separate stats for strength, agility, etc.

The system didn’t respond further.

By now, Meng Wenzhou and Zhao Rui were in a heated deadlock, faces reddening and veins bulging in their necks.

But Su Yang could tell Meng Wenzhou was starting to struggle. He estimated another twenty seconds at most before he’d give out.

Liu Bo cheered from the sidelines, "Come on, Meng! Take him down!"

Both men gripped the edge of the table with their free hands for leverage, their bodies half-rising from their seats as they leaned forward.

After another ten seconds, Meng Wenzhou finally hit his limit, and Zhao Rui began forcing his hand downward.

The girls watched nervously, staying silent to avoid distracting Meng Wenzhou.

Xia Keke covered her mouth with both hands, eyes glued to Meng Wenzhou’s trembling arm.

Five seconds later, Zhao Rui finally slammed Meng Wenzhou’s hand onto the table.

"Whew—" He released his grip and slumped onto the couch with a triumphant grin. "Good match, Young Master Meng. Barely scraped by, hah."

Meng Wenzhou exhaled deeply and shook his head. "No worries. We’ve still got two more rounds."

Zhao Rui glanced at Qiao Lianhu. "Young Master Meng, look at this guy’s build. You really think you’ll win? If he takes this next round, it’s over for you."

Meng Wenzhou remained confident. "Size doesn’t always mean strength. Arm wrestling is about wrist power. Weight alone doesn’t guarantee victory."

"Alright, then. Let’s see." Zhao Rui finally felt like he was regaining some dignity.

Earlier, during the drinking games, his side had lost far more often, and their few wins had only happened when Pan Ning wasn’t playing dice.

Now, he’d secured the first victory in a different arena. Relaxing into his seat, he prepared to watch Qiao Lianhu and Kong Fang dominate their opponents.

Although he didn't know Qiao Lianhu well, he was aware that the man served as Xia Li's bodyguard—so he certainly wasn't weak. Taking down an ordinary overweight guy would be effortless for him.

Even if Qiao Lianhu lost, he still had Kong Fang as his trump card.

He knew exactly how capable Kong Fang was.

Despite being much leaner than Qiao Lianhu, when it came to raw strength, he had full confidence that Kong Fang could dominate everyone present.