Boss Zhang faintly heard something amiss. He looked down at the five-kilo liquor jar he was holding in his hand—with only less than half a jar of liquor in it. He hesitated for a moment before speaking out, "Damn, I was angry just now, so I didn't take the liquor... To hell with it, I don't give a damn."
"Don't say that," Wang Shiwei's voice was slightly louder, "You might not be interested, but I really want to know what kind of liquor can be brewed... How about I go get those two kilos of liquor in your name?"
"Lao Wang, you sly devil," Boss Zhang burst into laughter, "You must know what's good about this liquor, don't you? And yet you still want to swindle my share... You're truly conscienceless."
"Haha, you've become smart too, huh?" Wang Shiwei also laughed, and after a while, he became serious, "Lao Zhang, if I were you, I'd take the liquor home, and when no one's around, drink a liang or two by myself... It'd be a waste to give it to someone else."