Song Qingshu could not help laughing. "The same goes for you, Princess Consort. When the time comes, don't let your status keep you from pouring me a drink."
Yalun found the eastern islander before her utterly detestable. With a snort, she returned to her seat.
"Enough nonsense. Come on!" Alan Dar stepped between them, blocking Song Qingshu's view. With one hand, he set a jar of wine heavily onto the table. "Bowls are too much trouble. We'll drink straight from the jars!" He had always excelled at drinking quickly. Many whose tolerance matched his had still lost to him in such rapid drinking contests. Ordinarily, he disdained using such tactics, but this concerned his mistress, so he did not dare let down his guard in the slightest.
Even though Mongols were generally heavy drinkers, the surrounding crowd was startled. Drinking jar after jar—wouldn't that get someone dead drunk?
Song Qingshu knew that his opponent intended to seize the initiative. Before so many people, he naturally could not appear weak. "Fine, I'll finish mine first!" With that, he slapped off the clay seal, lifted the wine jar, and began guzzling.
Alan Dar froze. He had expected his opponent to make excuses and hesitate, yet the man had begun drinking so decisively. For a moment, he even began doubting himself. Could this man really drink that well?
But on second thought, how formidable could an eastern islander's drinking capacity possibly be? Reassured, he saw that Song Qingshu had already been drinking for a while and hurriedly lifted his own jar to drink.
Having been tempered by high-proof distilled liquor from the modern era, Song Qingshu naturally had no trouble with these so-called strong ancient wines. In terms of actual drinking capacity, he might not even have lost. But this was not a