Everything you taste is purely by luck.
Whatever you're given, you drink.
You drink not for joy, but for The Jilted's year-round effort.
The first year was an intriguing blend of rich, sauce-like aroma with a clean, refreshing aftertaste.
The second year featured a unique essence, pure and crystal clear, with a fragrance of hidden depths.
The third year was sweet, smooth, and crystal-clear, with a rice fragrance.
The nearest fourth year, for some unknown reason, the good white liquor turned into a medicinal aroma blend.
The initial taste was pungent and spicy, prickling the throat with a hint of fusel oil.
Fans almost thought they had bought fake Lowe-Fairmont Tipples at the product release event.
Who knew that after swallowing, there was a surprisingly long-lasting aftertaste.
A rich and elegant compound aroma of ethyl butyrate emerged, carrying a clean and long tail flavor.
Making seasoned drinking fans exclaim in satisfaction.
As if they drank a cup of high-quality bitter coffee.
It's painful when drinking, but the aftertaste is filled with happiness.
Bitter turns sweet, astringent induces salivation.
Lowe-Fairmont Tipples' marketing is quite unusual, but The Jilted's brewing journey is never fake.
Fans who can appreciate alcohol love Lowe-Fairmont Tipples more each year, and those who can't drink from The Dump Me Alliance fall more in love with it annually.
Fans who can't drink collect Lowe-Fairmont Tipples as others collect idol merchandise.
Based on Gordo's marketing density, after five to seven years, those who collect all Lowe-Fairmont Tipples might summon a dragon or receive some hidden rewards.
Yet, before The Jilted's personal attendance at the fifth "Lowe-Fairmont Tipples Blind Box" launch was confirmed, The Dump Me Alliance members were already fiercely debating—what type of fan could attend and have a "first intimate contact" with The Banished Immortal-esque The Jilted?
Even someone like Tina could get dumped fifty times in a row; with their looks, getting dumped fifty-one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight times should definitely be no problem, right?
Before this, Sean Lowell only appeared to the public once a year, sampling wines from other wineries from start to finish.
Sean Lowell never commented on Lowe-Fairmont Tipples.
Rating one's own wine seems demeaning just at the sound of it.
Lowe-Fairmont Tipples never invites other wine tasters for reviews.
The Divine Palate gives you whatever, and that's what you drink.
This is Gordon Sterling's marketing logic; he never reasons with fans.
He even intentionally sets a threshold.
Lowe-Fairmont Tipples is the "annual meet-and-greet gift" from The Jilted and The Dump Me Alliance; therefore, it's not sold to "ordinary folks" outside The Dump Me Alliance.
If you insist on buying, either join The Dump Me Alliance or ask a member of The Dump Me Alliance to purchase it for you.
If you refuse both options, then buy or don't, as you please.
Though Lowe-Fairmont Tipples comes with a slogan annually, at the end of the day, it's still Lowe-Fairmont Tipples.
According to Gordo's original intent, Lowe-Fairmont Tipples should be a 10 to 20-degree drink, similar to what frequently appears in Korean dramas.
Closer to red wine's alcohol level, and more suitable for youthful gatherings.
But from the first year, Lowe-Fairmont Tipples has been kept around 40 degrees of alcohol.
In Celestar, 40 degrees is considered low strength for white liquor, but in most countries, it's already quite strong.
In overseas bars, drinking 40-degree pure liquor with no ice earns you "pure tough guy" points.
Renowned as the king of tough guys in bars, Tequila has to be consumed with a ritual—lick a bit of salt, down a small glass in one go, then quickly bite into a lemon wedge—to mitigate its spiciness so it's not "hard to swallow" without ice.
This complete process makes drinking the "absurdly high-proof" tequila correctly without ice dilution.
Friends used to drinking over 50-degree Mountai and Five-Grain Liquor would likely presume bar-goers are consuming a daunting 60 or 70 degree.
Yet Tequila is merely 40 degrees.
Many young people often order spirits at bars, like Chivas, Absolut Vodka, Martell, which are also only 40 degrees and typically served with ice or green tea.
Fundamentally, besides being too expensive if drunk too fast, the majority drink them mixed because pure liquor is too strong.
Under such circumstances, Gordon Sterling posits, if targeting young markets, the alcohol content should be adjusted to the levels young people favor.
But Master Sean Lowell desires to brew at least 53-degree white liquor, cutting to 40-degree — that's the lowest level Sean could accept.
If forced to reduce below 40 degrees, Gordon Sterling has every reason to believe a revengeful 60-degree "work" will surface.
Eventually, Gordon Sterling and Sean Lowell compromised at 40 degrees, between 20 and 60 degrees.
Running a company together is always a process of mutual compromise.
"Making this decision today, you really won't regret it?" Gordon Sterling exited the live stream, continuing the conversation with Sean Lowell, which they hadn't finished.
Sean Lowell opened his serene eyes to retort: "You've already announced it during the live stream; if I regret now, would you let me go?"
Gordon Sterling shook his chubby head side to side: "No."
"Then why ask?" Sean Lowell's tone carried none of the world's dust; if any, it was only a hint of fatigue.
"I hope you don't regret it, causing me to lose trust, but I fear you might be disappointed." Gordon Sterling took a deep breath, as if making an important decision, and continued to express his longstanding confusion: "Just heard a name, is it really that significant?"
"Yes. Fifth, is an extremely rare surname, Summer, is a very melodious name." Sean Lowell's face showed an uncharacteristically deep and serene smile not meant for The Jilted.
"Rare doesn't mean unique; is your reason as far-fetched as the innocence of a street rat?"
"I have a feeling." Sean Lowell's tone was unusually certain.
"And you also 'feel' 50 times that Tina loves you!" Gordon Sterling truly cares for Sean Lowell, yet his critique leaves no mercy.