"Xiao Fei, can't you drink a bit slower? At this rate, I won't be able to talk to you soon," Wang Jiuming, a face flushed crimson, told Yan Fei in the small courtyard next to his home by the Provincial City zoo.
While speaking, he sipped contentedly from his liquor bowl, "The thing is, your liquor, it doesn't get you drunk. I've been drinking from the beginning to the end of the year, good and bad booze, and I must say, yours is the most satisfying."
Yan Fei, reclining lazily on a deck chair, put down the empty bowl in his hand, "Senior Brother Wang, your flattery at this point won't conjure up any more liquor for you; there's only that one jar left. You can take it with you later!"
