"Come, bottoms up!" The old man lifted the bottle of white liquor in his hand, and with a swift motion, gulped it down.
The old man loved to drink, but he never got drunk, because he couldn't get drunk.
The night breeze was gentle, on the top floor of the villa, the two of them sat at a table surrounded by bottles of white liquor.
This was at Lin Xueru's house, where Fang Yi had brought the old man. Fang Yi had gone through a battle during the day but felt good, full of energy. Not only could the old man not get drunk, Fang Yi couldn't either.
Perhaps reaching a point of enjoyment, the old man loudly recited poetry.
In the heavens, White Jade City, twelve towers and five cities. An immortal touches my head, tying my hair, granting me longevity...
This was a poem by Li Bai. The old man recited line by line, adding to the atmosphere of the night, but from his tone, Fang Yi sensed a feeling of lament in the old man.
