Xiao Er was holding a pot of wine, the wine was hot, still steaming, and he came coldly, and put it coldly in front of the left knifeman.

The bottom of the flask hits the hard tabletop with a dull sound.

The left swordsman was unaware of Xiao Er's bad attitude, and he didn't even look up at him from beginning to end.

He reached out to pour a glass of wine and taste it.

Xiao Er's hand stretched out faster than him and stopped him at the right time.

At this time, the left knife man looked up at him.

Xiao Er's face was expressionless, and he made a mechanical voice: "A pot of hot wine is a hundred taels."

Heh, what kind of wine is this, it can be worth a hundred taels of silver, isn't it the queen mother's elixir and jade liquid?

It is important to know that even the best wine with a long-standing reputation does not have such a sky-high asking price, and it is unclear whether this is wine or gold.

The left swordsman did not feel the slightest objection, and the people present did not look dissatisfied, as if they had already known about it.

Zuo Daoke smiled and said, "I have to taste it to know if this wine meets my requirements." Pen Fun Pavilion www.biquge.info"

Xiao Er didn't give face at all, it can be said that it was very unreasonable, he held down the wine bottle coldly, and still repeated mechanically: "A pot of wine is a hundred taels."

The two confronted each other for a long time, but neither of them would budge, and in the end, the left swordsman gave in first.

Although I didn't drink any wine, the aroma of the wine that the flask couldn't hide had spread, and after a while, the air was full of strong aromas.

Zuo Daoke loves to drink, although he has not reached the point of being addicted to alcohol, but when he smells the aroma of this wine and inhales it in his lungs, he begins to scratch and scratch one by one in his heart, itchy, and he can't scratch it if he wants to.

I really can't blame him, only that the wine is so fragrant that it satisfies his appetite.

Of course, good wine must be drunk by someone, and good wine that cannot be drunk is not called good wine, because no one has tasted it, and who knows how to drink this wine.

Similarly, looking at good wine and not being able to drink it is a kind of torment of wanting to live and die.

The fast swordsman moved his nose slightly, obviously disliking the growing smell of alcohol.

The left swordsman hurriedly took out a heavy ingot of silver from his chest and threw it casually.

Only then did the left swordsman get the wine, and he carefully opened the lid of the wine like a treasure, and then ushered in the smell of wine.

He took a deep breath and couldn't help but say, "Good wine, good wine."

Hurriedly poured himself a glass, first smashed it in a small sip, and then drank it all, burped for a long time, spit out a ball of gas, and said, "This wine is really strong." He felt that the description was not enough, and added another sentence: "It is fragrant and strong."

Many people craned their necks to look at him, and when he said this, they tried harder to stretch a little, just to ask about the aroma of wine, even if it was the wine burp he exhaled.

They didn't dare to expect to taste the wine, because it was too expensive to afford.

Ask about the aroma of the wine, and that's good.

Thinking of this, these people couldn't help but touch their own pockets, some were just small pieces of silver, and they made up one-tenth of what they had returned.

Resentful, for a while to the left knife horizontal eyebrows cold, full of undisguised jealousy.

It just so happened that I hated the rich, not because I was jealous that you were rich, but because I was indignant that you were rich and still showing off in front of others.

Naturally, the left swordsman didn't know what they were thinking, and he was now facing a difficult problem by himself, a difficult and difficult problem.

His gaze shifted back and forth between the flask and the pocket containing the human head, and it was a long time before he made a decision.

Seeing that he actually poured the pot of valuable wine on the ground, and then muttered in his mouth: "Although I don't know who you are, but after all, it is a human life. He added to himself, "Even though my heart hurts."

Your heart hurts, our flesh hurts.

Everyone was pitiful, and watched the pot of wine fall to the ground like this, and be sucked clean by the blanket.

The living can't fight for it, even a dead person can't fight, and they can't help but be very unbalanced, and they hate the left swordsman a little more at the moment.

Zuo Daoke watched the wine slowly flow out of the wine jug, and then remembered something, leveled the wine jug, shook it in his ear, and heard that there was still a little wine left in the jug, and said to himself: "It's okay."

He pushed the flask to the side of the person opposite, and said, "After all, you killed the man, don't you think you should also pay tribute to him?"

The fast swordsman said coldly: "What if I killed it? I killed a lot of people, and I want to pay tribute, and a few vat of wine is not enough."

"You" Zuo Swordsman didn't know what to say again, so he had to say: "I forgot how arrogant you are as a fast swordsman. Well, the rest of the wine can't be wasted, so I'll give it to you."

He glanced around, and everyone in sight cast eager and hopeful glances, and the heat in his eyes was several degrees hotter than that of the great stove.

Zuo Daoke changed his words and said, "Since no one has responded, I'll give it to myself, and I should be rewarded for my hard work in the past few days."

He threw his head back and grunted, and poured all the wine from the jug into his mouth, not a drop of it, not a drop of it.

"It's good wine, it's good wine." He shook his head in amusement.

It was when the excitement was strong that two lumps of faint red welled up on his cheeks.

People are already slightly drunk when they are drunk.

He is a good drinker, and he can drink as much as he does, but he only drinks less than one-tenth of the usual amount, which is already like this, which shows that the strength of the wine is not just talking.

He called Xiao Er again and said, "Bury the headless corpse and the head on this table, the separation of heads is already very pitiful when you die, but you can't do this after death, you can also give him a whole corpse."

Xiao Er's mechanical voice sounded again: "One hundred taels of corpses."

The left knife man muttered to himself, very dissatisfied: "You are a profiteer." But having said that, he still took out another heavy ingot of silver, and instead of throwing it up, he smashed it on the table.

"Burial."

Xiao Er took the silver, lifted it with the strong man's belt in one hand, and held the bag with the head in the other, and slowly walked out of the house.

With the heavy snowfall, it is impossible to find a place to expose the loess.

In that case, I had to bury myself in the snow, which was probably the best thing to do at this time.

The snow is thick enough to accommodate a corpse, and in the same way, if you are buried in the snow, you will soon be covered by a new round of snow until no one can see it.

As for what happens when the snow melts after the winter passes, it is a long time ago.

At least it's been a long time ago.

In the wilderness, an unknown white skeleton, who still remembers?

Changqing finally knew.

He knew why almost no one had called Xiao Er, it seemed that everything in this inn needed money to do things, no matter how big or small, all of them were unified in one hundred taels.

It's a weird rule, and the inn is a weird one.

The fast swordsman watched for a long time, and finally said, "I think it's time to stop joking, it's time to talk about you and me." ”

When the people heard this, they straightened up and sat up.