"Um." Shang Qinghua's eyes dart nervously from Shen Yuan to Liu Mingyan to Luo Binghe. How he wishes he could say Whatever you want, Your Majesties and Cucumber-bro! "I don't, ah, know? No one told me that? But I can definitely, um, take a message just in case—but write it down, please!" He has had far too much alcohol to guarantee he'll remember whatever they tell him, and something in Liu Mingyan's expression tells him he's dead if he misrepresents a word.