"Wine jars? Wu Lang likes his liquor?"
You couldn't really tell.
Wu Lang had a face with a rather wild air about it. He was so handsome, though, and had such delicate features, that he gave off the impression of someone who never touched a drop. But liking wine wasn't a big deal. In these turbulent times, people were bold and uninhibited, and men and women, young and old alike, could all down a few cups.
Those with a good tolerance could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk.
Shen Tang was about to answer, but then she got stuck again.
Come to think of it, how well could she hold her liquor?
"Wu Lang, are you feeling unwell?" Seeing Shen Tang zone out for no apparent reason, her expression dazed, Chu Yao called her back to herself.
Shen Tang shook her head.
This was the trouble with having your memories stolen.
She said glumly, "I'm not feeling unwell. I was just wondering how well I can hold my liquor... I don't think I can drink much?" As a shut-in homebody and amateur artist, she shouldn't have had much of a tolerance.
Chu Yao smiled at that, thinking that only a boy of this age would fret over such a trivial matter. He was proud and thin-skinned, afraid that others would laugh at him for having a low tolerance.
He offered a tactful reassurance.
"Everything is best in moderation. A little wine lifts the spirits; drinking to excess harms the body. Wu Lang is still growing, so it's no problem if you can't drink much. You can build up your tolerance when you're older."
Shen Tang: "..."
She couldn't help feeling as if they weren't on the same wavelength.
As soon as the market opened, carriages and pedestrians streamed by