The fish the old man had cooked smelled delicious.
More importantly, the flavor was incredibly familiar. It was actually the fermented chili fish from my hometown.
I swallowed. I had to admit, I really was a little hungry, and the fish was perfectly suited to my tastes.
The old man sat across from me. As he poured the wine, he said, "No rush, no rush. There are only the two of us, and there's plenty of fish." With that, he set a cup of wine in front of me.
The wine was stored in a small earthen jar, which looked like it could hold only around two pounds at most.
"I brewed this wine myself. It might be a little weak for people like you who are used to strong liquor, so it probably won't feel satisfying. But don't underestimate it and keep drinking just because it goes down easy. If you drink too much, getting drunk on this will feel even worse than getting drunk on strong liquor. I got drunk on it once myself, you know. Afterward, I slept for an entire day. Heh heh, and my head still hurt when I woke up!"
Wasn't this just like the homemade local wine brewed in the countryside of my hometown? It tasted wonderful going down, and there was none of the usual harshness of alcohol. Even someone who could not drink would think they could down a thousand cups without falling.
But that was not the case. Not only could this wine get people drunk, its aftereffects could leave you asleep for ten or even twenty hours without waking. Even if you did wake up, your head would feel as though it were splitting apart.
That was why the locals knew how potent it was. Usually, they stopped once