The Tail
Sitting inside the motorhome, leisurely enjoying fine wine—there was hardly anything better in life.
There were beautiful women, too, but he couldn't lay a hand on any of them. Any one of them could crush an ordinary mortal's bones with ease.
Qingyao was like that, Hong Li was like that, and Elisa was no exception.
With beauties this pleasing to the eye, looking was enough.
"It's Yellow Wine—the finest vintage!"
Doctor Li looked utterly content. He loved drinking wine this way.
Red wine had to be chilled, while Yellow Wine was precisely the opposite. Red Clay warmed the wine over a brazier. Care to have a cup?
"It's excellent wine!"
"Captain America" Everin Borg and Schulman contradicted him again. Everin knew his stuff and didn't dare lie through his teeth.
Eastern and Western wines each had their own strengths. It had nothing to do with ideologies or worldviews. Thousands of years of history didn't lie.
"Everin, whose side are you on?"
Schulman was highly displeased. Ever since Michael Defense Contractors had taken over the "Apostle" warriors wholesale, he had found everything about the project irritating.
Sometimes he even wondered whether their horoscopes were incompatible or something. Why else would it be so damn aggravating?
"Yellow Wine is an ancient type of alcohol with a history every bit as long as red wine's. I'd guess the wine Doctor Li invited us to drink is at least thirty years old."
Everin Borg was actually a genuine enthusiast. He could even estimate the wine's age from the cup.
Compared with Yellow Wine and rice wine, liquor was a little brother among little brothers. The line "Laugh not at the farmer's turbid preserved wine" had never referred to liquor.
"An expert indeed. This is Daughter Red, a fifty-year-old original brew."
Doctor Li