"Oh, as the saying goes, ‘Since ancient times, Saints have all been solitary; only those who drink will leave their names behind’ [1]. Thus, the people who are aware of the eight pleasures of drinking are not many and it’s not strange that Mister is unaware. You’re not to blame…" Ling Tian’s words left Ye QingChen’s face alternating between red and white, awkward beyond belief. "However, I believe Mister is aware of the eight commandments of drinking?"
"...errr! I haven’t heard of this as such, tell me more!" Ye QingChen felt a bead of cold sweat drip down his face, more than half out of his drunken stupor.
"Umm~ then, I’m sure that Mister will know of the ‘Eight Mortals of Wine!" Ling Tian spoke with a tone of certainty, seemingly reassuring himself.
"This…" Ye QingChen turned into a shade of persimmon, a brilliant red tinged with purple.
