They didn't leave; instead, they ordered more wine, watching the young lads spar with laughter, as they stroked their burgeoning bellies and said to their friends how things were when we were young.
Oh, how unforgiving time is.
The drinking game started with short to long phrases, increasingly so, drink a cup and match it with a line of poetry.
Fail to match and you're out.
It started easy, even Zhou Liuying could keep up.
"Spring flowers."
"Autumn moon."
But soon, these youngsters who spent most of their time in arduous training and honing their martial arts couldn't keep up, and on these banquets' poetry challenges, it wasn't about poetic talent but quick thinking, something they knew less about than the good-for-nothing sons of their own families.
Round after round passed, with only the time to raise and lower cups.
What mattered most wasn't the flair of the moment, but how many lines you had seen before.