Qi Zhao shared his insights with Zhao Xing.
Zhao Xing was slightly tipsy but far from drunk. Yet, under Qi Zhao's unwavering gaze, he rubbed his face and suddenly feigned severe drunkenness, slurring his words, "Ah, Young Master, why does this wine bottle keep swaying back and forth?"
He reached out to grab the wine bottle but mistakenly seized the braised pork knuckle on the table.
"Ouch!" Zhao Xing shook his hand vigorously, almost splattering the meat's juices onto Qi Zhao's face.
Qi Zhao subtly sidestepped with a faint smile. "Uncle Zhao, are you drunk?"
Zhao Xing seized the opportunity to extricate himself, wiping his hands with a napkin and sighing deeply.
"Age is catching up with me. I can't keep up with you youngsters anymore. Let's call it a night. Another day, I'll treat you to the full fish feast at Lianwu House. I've got a decade-old Huadiao wine stored there; it'll surely delight us."