After a long time, Tom slowly woke up and saw that most of the food on the table had been eaten, and the host and lady were sitting aside having a chat.
While someone was still eagerly licking the plates clean—it was none other than Qin Hao!
"Why aren't you passed out yet!"
Tom stood up in shock.
"Well, why should I be passed out?"
Qin Hao ate the last grain of rice clean, patted his belly, and said, "Mr. Tom, you slept so long, I even had another meal."
"You!"
Tom's face turned red with anger, and seeing Tywin's gaze, he dared not act out, so he pretended to be respectful and said, "Mr. Qin, you have quite the tolerance."
At this point, he naturally knew he had lost the drinking contest.
Qin Hao said indifferently, "Just average, really. The Maotai was too mild, like water, otherwise, I might have gotten drunk."
"Pfft!"
Tom, who was sipping tea for relief, suddenly spit it out.
