"...Upon entering the door and looking left, I see a pair of mandarin ducks; seventy-two ducks in all, lined up in a row. Their calls ringing out in the east and west corridors. The elder wife weaves qiluo silk, the middle wife weaves flowing yellows; the younger wife, having nothing to do, takes up the zither in the high hall; the husband sits at ease, tuning the strings, the night is young."
"Laugh along, laugh along... Bang!" After drunkenly humming a tune, Huang Li collapsed onto the table, soon his snores filled the air.
Five or six of his brothers were already sprawled out on the floor, still clutching bottles of wine.
Since they agreed not to use their energy to dispel the alcohol, by midnight a significant number of them were passed out drunk.
Glancing at Zi Xuan, his face slightly flushed, and the wet ground beside him, Shen Zhui joked, "Young brother, you can certainly hold your liquor."
