Meng Kuan habitually grabbed the wine gourd at his waist and shook it. Empty. Sigh... He let out a long breath…
Meng Kuan habitually grabbed the wine gourd at his waist and shook it. Empty.
Sigh... He let out a long breath. "A hero without wine is like a meat bun without meat. It's miserable!"
Hearing this, Miss Xiu looked up from her diagrams and smiled. "Who says a hero must drink? Look at Qi Zhao; he never touches a drop. Qi Zhao, your ruler..."
Who says Qi Zhao doesn't drink? That waterskin of his might very well hold...
Before he could finish, a waterskin flew into his arms, hitting its mark as precisely as if measured by a ruler.
Aha! Brother Qi Zhao is the one who truly cares for me! Meng Kuan looked triumphant. He shook the skin and pulled the stopper, ready to take a deep gulp. "Once this cap is off, I'll know: this must be the Sweet Slumber from your place. Finally, a taste of..."
He stopped mid-sentence, his brow furrowing as he smacked his lips. "Darn it, why is it so weak? Did you water down good wine? What a waste, an absolute waste!"
Meng Kuan patted the scrawny old horse beside him and held the waterskin to its mouth. "Brother, this is thin enough for even you!"
The horse snorted and ignored him.
Just then, Fu Qianli approached from nearby. Meng Kuan's eyes lit up, and he tossed the waterskin toward her with a smirk. "Catch! Good stuff, don't drink it all at once!"
Fu Qianli caught it with one hand. With a slight toss, she knew it was more than half empty. Her expression remained unchanged; she gave Meng Kuan a flat look, pulled the stopper, and took two gulps. Then, with a flick of her arm, she threw the skin to Miss Xiu.
Who says fine wine is only for heroes? We daughters of the generation can hold our own as well.
Meng Kuan slapped his thigh and laughed heartily. The firelight stretched their shadows long and thin across the ground...
If the dust of war ever settles and the land finds peace, perhaps they truly could ride together, traveling the world and drinking the finest wines of every land.