Even though the light was dim, Zhou Wang could still recognize the shape of the liquor bottle in Jiang Qingkui's hand and deduced that she was holding the bottle of Kauffman vodka from the suite's minibar.
This premium vodka, priced in the tens of thousands, was produced in Russia. Its taste was average, but its defining feature was its potency. For those who loved alcohol, it was a nectar of the gods, but for those with less tolerance, its power was more terrifying than a "depth charge."
Zhou Wang had hardly ever seen Jiang Qingkui drink before, and judging by her life experiences, an untrained person like her probably wouldn't have a good tolerance for alcohol.
And now, visibly, more than two-thirds of this vodka bottle was already empty... Forget Jiang Qingkui, even with Zhou Wang's drinking capacity, downing more than half a bottle in one go would leave him staggering.
