The potbellied man was helped by two buddies onto the sofa in the private room, snoring could be heard.
"Still want to drink?" Ye Fan smiled provocatively, looking at the men present.
"Damn it, let's take him down, drink, why not drink, trying to take us on alone, he's courting death." The guys exchanged glances, exchanging a silent understanding. This blatant provocation was unacceptable; of course they had to accept. Besides, they had already received a signal from Zhao Minghui, there was no reason not to drink.
"Bro, you've got some capacity, huh? I guess you're almost at your limit, drink another half a catty and you'll be lying here like him." A bespectacled man chuckled, glancing at the potbellied man as if warning Ye Fan of his fate.
"Is that so?" Ye Fan dismissed it with a smile.
Then they clinked glasses, and the bespectacled man joined the potbellied man, lying down together.
