Upon hearing this, Xiaotao and I rushed into the room where Dali lay under the sheets, torso hung over the side and hands propped against the floor as he vomited uncontrollably. I pretended to be surprised and asked, "Dali, did you eat something bad?"

Still flushed, Dali mumbled, "I drank too much. Pour me a glass of hot water!"

I brought him a glass of water and a wet towel. Dali's skin was boiling hot, cheeks red like a ripe tomato–the man was completely drunk. 

“Geez, alcohol can really kill you!” Dali took a sip of the warm water and wiped his face with the towel.

"You don't have to work so hard, holding these dinners with the clients. It’s not good for you!" I urged.

Dali sighed, "I can't help it. They kept filling my glass..." At this...