The next day.
The skies were clear, the air was fresh.
Banquet hall.
Everyone gathered together.
As they ate breakfast, they chatted about how well they slept the night before.
Tercy Mason, nibbling on a small steamed bun, started complaining about her husband, "Alexander threw up seven or eight times last night! I was so exhausted, barely got any proper sleep. Look at my eyes, I look just like a panda."
She wasn't lying—everyone thought she looked like a panda wearing eyeliner.
Ella Lacey sympathized, "Tercy, you should take a nap and sleep in some more after breakfast."
"Yeah... honey, no one will bother you later. You can have a nice, deep sleep," Alexander Stuart chimed in, sipping congee as his stomach still burned from the alcohol. Feeling guilty, he apologized to his wife, "I'm so sorry about last night, honey. I know it was hard on you. I was just so happy to see Cherline, I drank too much... I swear, it won't happen again."
