"Well, that went down fast," Yang Qing muttered, shaking his wine gourd and pensively examining it—from the sound of the swish to tilting it sideways and using his eyes to gauge how much remained. There was not much left. It could probably fill a cup and a half.
With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, accepting the situation, Yang Qing took the two large swigs needed to empty it completely, set it aside, and reached for another.
