Feng Yueming glanced at the drink in her hand and parted his thin lips, "Your drink, I bought it."
Mi Yao paused, doubting whether she was hearing things. Was this man really being nice?
"As for how many bottles... you drink as many as you can, and I will buy that many."
That's why he was being so nice, she thought. He wanted her to drink, and by the number of bottles, she might drink herself to death!
He was just tormenting her, taking pleasure in her struggle.
But, she needed this opportunity. If she could drink five or six bottles, she would make quite a bit of money tonight, and there might be hope for her dad's surgery fees.
"Okay," Mi Yao agreed without hesitation.
...
Minutes later, three empty wine bottles lay on the coffee table; Mi Yao was already working on the fourth, guzzling the wine as if it were water.