Xuanqing Guard-Chapter 63: Questions and Answers

Twenty catties of fine liquor, but Jiang Cheng didn’t hold back to savor it alone—instead, he generously cracked open the seal right there to share with everyone present.

In Jiang Cheng’s words: good booze is only fun and satisfying when a crowd drinks it together!

So even Shen Hao got to benefit from it.

Thirteen thousand taels for a single jar of fine liquor—if it wasn’t for gift-giving, Shen Hao wouldn’t be caught dead wasting money on something like this.

First, everyone got poured a small corner cup, which is already half a jin.

The rich aroma of liquor instantly filled the private room—even the songstresses seated nearby couldn’t help but swallow instinctively. They weren’t qualified to taste Immortal Brew.

"This wine..." It was Shen Hao’s first time tasting Immortal Brew. He hadn’t even taken a sip—just catching the aroma felt oddly familiar. This stuff actually smelled a bit like Old Baigan liquor!

Having gotten used to drinking this world’s "beer" just to quench his thirst, Shen Hao was very curious now. When Jiang Cheng raised his glass and shouted, "Bottoms up!" he joined in, downing his drink in one go.

"Damn... this really is like a watered-down Old Baigan!" Shen Hao slammed back half a jin in one gulp, smacking his lips. This booze tasted just as he recalled—only Old Baigan packs fifty or sixty degrees, and this one tops out at thirty-five or thirty-six. Still, compared to everything else he’d drunk in this world, it was by far the best.

Zhang Qian and Gan Lin ended up flushed bright red, too—a half-jin shot each, their eyes getting bloodshot as they exhaled boozy breath and shouted in unison, "Good wine!"

Jiang Cheng acted like a true veteran drinker, holding his breath for half a stick of incense—if not for his high cultivation, he’d have suffocated. Only after the liquor spun around a few times in his body did he roll his eyes in satisfaction.

Only Wang Jian’s face first turned beet red, then paled immediately after, his throat working as if he’d puke. He was used to "beer"—but now he’d slammed half a jin of thirty-five degree liquor. Not throwing up on the spot already proved his endurance.

"Hahaha, Wang Jian, you lightweight, if you can’t handle it, just take a break. Let them wipe your face—no need to force yourself!" Gan Lin beamed as he waved Wang Jian off. Who knows if he really cared or just didn’t want the booze wasted.

Wang Jian thought about toughing it out, but his stomach kept churning, and barely a few breaths later, the liquor had his head pounding like it would explode. No way he could keep up his bravado—he didn’t even dare speak more than a polite apology to the table. Then the songstresses at his sides helped him over to a lounge chair to sleep off the booze.

"Shen Zongqi, you really can hold your liquor. Shall we continue?"

"If you give the word, sir, your subordinate would love a few more glasses of fine wine."

"Hahaha, good, good! I like straightforward folks! Fill them up!"

With a grand wave, Jiang Cheng sent the wine jar floating through the air, topping off Shen Hao and the other two’s cups to the brim—another half jin each.

"Cheers!"

Down the second cup went, and things started changing.

Even Zhang Qian and Gan Lin, who bragged about their drinking skills, started looking scattered, shoveling meat and fish into their mouths nonstop, obviously trying to settle their stomachs.

This wasn’t the usual eight or nine degree swill—at thirty-five, two back-to-back half-jin shots weren’t for the faint of heart.

Shen Hao, as usual, seemed unfazed. Honestly, he’d missed drinking real liquor and savored the taste, smacking his lips and feeling a bit unsatisfied—in a good way.

Jiang Cheng also looked unchanged, though he visibly started studying Shen Hao with more interest.

"Another round!"

After the third cup, Zhang Qian and Gan Lin started to falter. Thirty-five degree white liquor, a jin and a half downed in a stick of incense—no small feat.

Fortunately, Zhang Qian and Gan Lin were close with Jiang Cheng. Now, tongues tangled, they called for mercy, admitting they couldn’t handle it and, if they drank more, would make a scene—they’d have to rest a bit first.

If it were just the three of them, maybe they’d keep going until they drank themselves unconscious, but with Shen Hao present, tonight wasn’t about drinking until you drop—there was business to discuss. Zhang Qian and Gan Lin wouldn’t really disrupt things.

When Zhang Qian and Gan Lin finally staggered to the lounge chairs to be tended by the songstresses, only Shen Hao and Jiang Cheng were left at the wine table, still holding their cups.

Another two glasses went down.

After that, Jiang Cheng asked, "Shen Zongqi, you really have a bottomless pit. Can you still drink?"

Still drink? What a dumb question. Shen Hao could handle three jin of sixty-proof Old Baigan in one sitting—legendary among the police academy’s drinkers. Thirty-five degree stuff? He could put away four or five jin easy.

But you can’t ever come off too full of yourself, especially when asking for a favor. Display your strengths just enough—not all at once—otherwise, you risk looking arrogant and backfiring.

So Shen Hao channeled some True Qi to flush his cheeks, made his eyes a little glazed, and put on an act of being seven or eight tenths drunk.

"S-sir, I—I can still have—have another drink, with you!"

"Hahaha, Shen Zongqi, there’s no need to force yourself. Like I said, tonight’s just friendly—no need to push it. By the way, heard from Zhang Qian and Gan Lin you came with something on your mind. We’ve drunk a few rounds, so speak up, and let’s sip some tea while we ease the buzz."

Truth be told, Jiang Cheng wasn’t feeling that great anymore either. Immortal Brew was strong, and he didn’t get to drink it often—its punch was the real deal.

Shen Hao made a show of shaking his head to clear it, then asked a songstress for a hot towel, pretending to sober up. Jiang Cheng nodded quietly from across the table: he liked people who did things methodically.

After wiping his face and downing some strong tea, Shen Hao appeared a bit more clear-headed and apologized, "Letting you see me like that—I almost lost it when the booze hit."

"No big deal. This wine is fierce—nothing like the usual stuff. First time drinking it, it’s normal to get hit hard."

"Thank you for your understanding, sir." After a pause, Shen Hao tried tentatively, "Lately my thoughts have been all over the place. I’ve heard, sir, that you have unique insights into cultivating the heart. Might I often observe under your tutelage and receive your guidance?"

He was laying it all out—Shen Hao stared at Jiang Cheng, not sure if he’d be able to climb under the shelter of this big tree.

Jiang Cheng put down his teacup and smiled at Shen Hao. "Tang Qingyuan, the Hundred Households of the Li City Guard Station, is also quite accomplished in cultivation. Your other superior, Chen Yiyun, also has insight on the path of cultivating the heart. Why go out of your way to come to me?"

"Sir, you once served in the military, led countless battle arrays, surviving hundreds of life-and-death fights. Few could claim such profound understanding! Afterwards, you joined Xuanqing Guard, rising from an ordinary soldier to the rank of Thousand Households—who could match that social acumen?

With someone like you as a clear role model, how could I not be eager to learn? I humbly ask you to accept me, sir!"

With that, Shen Hao bent at the waist and cupped his fists in salute.

This speech was one Shen Hao had carefully prepared beforehand—neither awkward nor abrupt, and it got his point across.

Zhang Qian and Gan Lin, off to the side, silently thought, "Well played!"

He praised Jiang Cheng’s brilliance and achievements in the military, indirectly answering Jiang Cheng’s doubts about cultivation: could Tang Qingyuan, for all his skills, match a true hero who survived hundreds of battles?

The last sentence brought up official posts, saying Jiang Cheng had perfected social finesse to the utmost degree—answering the issue of Chen Yiyun’s cultivation. Even if Chen Yiyun was insightful, how could he compare to Jiang Cheng’s real-world experience? Would a man lacking such mastery rise so high?