Wang Zhanrui glanced back and saw Meng Yuhuai standing at the kitchen doorway, smiling at him. He then lowered his eyes to the jar of wine in his hand and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, though he wasn't particularly surprised.
It was closing time, and Hua Xiaomai had disappeared early in the morning. Meng Yuhuai, who usually didn't manage affairs at Daoxiang Garden, had suddenly appeared, persistently asking him to drink. It wasn't hard to guess why, was it?
"As a cook, I tend to avoid alcohol as much as possible."
He said indifferently, "Too much drinking numbs the tongue and inevitably impairs the sense of taste, which is detrimental rather than beneficial to cooking."
However, Meng Yuhuai wasn't discouraged in the least and still wore a smile, "I'm not the type to force people to drink until they're drunk. Just a couple of light drinks should be fine—didn't Master Wang also drink quite a bit of osmanthus wine on the Mid-Autumn Festival?"
