After everyone dispersed, Zhao Yan wrapped his arms around a somewhat dazed Song Yun and said, "Alright, everything has been arranged. You should go home and sleep. Sleep it off, and tomorrow we'll send Wang Hu off in glory. It's the last tribute we can offer as brothers."
"I want to stay outside and keep Wang Hu company." Song Yun sat on a chair and said, "Stay with him a bit longer. You go back."
"Ah." Zhao Yan sat down next to Song Yun, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one for himself, and offered one to Song Yun.
"Since when do you smoke?" Song Yun took the cigarette and put it in his mouth.
"Smoking makes your blood vessels narrow and slows your thinking," Zhao Yan said. "I don't smoke because I need to keep my mind clear at all times. Tonight, it doesn't matter."
Song Yun took out a lighter, lit Zhao Yan's cigarette first, then his own.
