Xi Shaoqi quickly brought back two boxes of wine with the waiter and said to An Nan: "If it’s not enough, I’ll go get more."
An Nan nodded slightly, without responding to him. Her cold gaze remained on the man beside her, her tone calm and unwavering: "Young Master Lin, let’s start. Don’t waste any time."
"Alright then, let’s do it." Surprisingly, Lin Mubai did not refuse An Nan’s proposal.
A grand mahjong game began, without gambling money involved.
The first round ended quickly, Lin Mubai first, An Nan second, Lan Luo at the bottom, meaning Lan Luo lost. Just when he thought this was a bet between his good brother Lin Mubai and An Nan, and he was merely an outsider, a cup of Moutai was handed to him. His face turned pale instantly: "What does this mean?"
With a faint smile at the corners of her mouth, An Nan looked at him: "What? Can’t handle losing? It was agreed beforehand, the loser has to drink a cup of baijiu."
Hearing this, Lan Luo immediately felt as if he had boarded a pirate ship, everything felt wrong. Yet he gathered his courage, grabbed the cup from the other’s hand, and downed it in one go.
Just after he drank, he felt a burning sensation from his esophagus to his throat, unbearably uncomfortable. But he couldn’t not drink; does this mean he has to admit he can’t handle losing?
A man can do without anything, but he cannot do without face.
Throwing the cup aside, he shouted angrily, "Continue, continue, I refuse to concede, tonight I drink it all."
The ’clatter clatter’ of mahjong continues to echo in the enclosed room.
As the number of mahjong tiles on the table dwindled, everyone’s hearts grew more tense with a subtle anticipation. They were all quite curious who would be the next to drink baijiu.
Among the tense crowd, Lin Mubai and An Nan’s expressions remained calm from the beginning, no matter what tiles they picked, there was no significant change.
"Peng, I win." With the crisp sound from An Nan, the first person not required to drink was born.
This made Lan Luo anxious; if he kept drinking, he’d surely be the first to collapse tonight. He was Lan Luo; he couldn’t afford such disgrace.
"Heaven help me, heaven help me, this time I must draw a three-dot." Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novel(ꜰ)ire.net
"Wow wow wow, three-dot, three-dot, I picked it myself."
Lan Luo finally had the strength to take a deep breath; he felt like he was suffocating just now.
With An Nan and Lan Luo’s continuous victories, only Yu Wenhao and Lin Mubai were left. These two had comparable intelligence; now it was all about luck. After several rounds of tile draws, Yu Wenhao picked up a tile, his lips curled slightly into a pleasing arc, then said to the man opposite, seemingly apologetic: "I’m really sorry, I picked it myself."
As soon as Yu Wenhao finished speaking, Xi Shaoqi quickly handed a cup of baijiu to his good brother in front of him, his tone seemingly mocking yet unable to hide his pride and humor: "Hehe, drink up, drink up, a man can’t be called out by a woman for backing down."
Lin Mubai took the cup handed by the other, glaring at him fiercely, indicating he shouldn’t be too indulgent in another’s misfortune.
He and Lan Luo truly shared a blood bond, their drinking actions identical, downing it in one go, with a face full of displeasure.
Putting down his cup, his faint voice reached everyone’s ears: "Let’s continue."