Under the table was Song Youde.
All he did was wave his hand: "That ungrateful brat can't be beaten to death!"
Then, just as thunderously loud, his snoring resumed, vaguely overlapping with Tai Xiaodong's from next door, rising and falling in a rhythmic sequence.
Song Tan deeply regretted it!
If she had known that she would have to clean up the mess after they got drunk, she would have never brought out the alcohol!
She glanced at the bottles on the table again—well, they started with three bottles, and now there was only one and a half left, and they call that a drinking capacity?!
She picked up a bottle and shook it, almost laughing with frustration at this point.
…
The next day was another sunny one.
When Seventh Uncle woke up, he couldn't help but squint at the dazzling sunlight shining through the window.
Then, he realized: Eh, why is it so bright?
