Sounded like a displeased cat

When they stumbled back into Liu Sumeng's room, Yuan Xuelan had long sobered up.

He had sobered up, but he was feigning drunkenness so that he could get away with this ridiculous bratty behavior with better ease and more excuses.

He had his arms wrapped firmly around Liu Sumeng's waist and buried his head in the crook of the Ivory Sword Saint's neck. No matter how or where Liu Sumeng tried to move, Yuan Xuelan refused to relent his grasp, making it so that they had to stumble about to get from point A to point B.

"Xuelan." Liu Sumeng's voice was more hoarse than harsh, only tolerating the annoyance that was Yuan Xuelan's dragging weight because he was also basking in the warmth of physical contact. But he also didn't want to knock any of his things over or leave a mess that would be too annoying to clean up tomorrow. 

A few scrolls were already knocked out of their spot in the bookshelf when he passed by and gripped its frame for balance.