Although it was a blunder, a dizzy one at that, Yang Ping was extremely touched.
With the hot pot served, and everyone exhausted from the surgeries, no one drank alcohol. Yang Ping held up a glass of apple cider: "Brothers, seriously, thank you."
A thousand words were contained within this glass of beverage, which Yang Ping drained in one gulp.
Even if the drink wasn't alcohol, he drank it with the flair of one who was celebrating with spirits.
Huddled around the hot pot, the brothers chatted, joked, laughed, and Zhang Lin hinted several times, "How about some alcohol?"
"We have lots of surgeries, and emergencies can occur anytime. Want to drink? Ask Huang Mao to prepare a plate of peanuts for you, and drink slowly on your own," Song Zimo discouraged him.
Is it really okay not to drink at a gathering like this? Zhang Lin wondered to himself as he took a sip of the apple cider.
"Wang Feng was discharged from the hospital on Sunday when you guys were not around."
