C516 Thirteen clans of taihang

Just as the filthy squirrel left, a few small and beautiful butterflies flew into the wine pot, carrying the wet liquor with them as they flew away.

It was as if the slovenly man had long since become accustomed to this, or perhaps did not care at all. Only after the butterfly had flown away did he open his mouth to the wine pot and take a sip.

Hu Zi