If someone had an urgent matter and hurriedly ate lunch, it might take only three minutes for him to forget what he had eaten and what it had tasted like.
Smoking was the same.
Most people smoked for a reason. Perhaps they were thinking about something, feeling troubled, or trying to use cigarettes to smooth out their turbulent emotions.
At times like that, they treated cigarettes merely as a... stimulant, a catalyst, rather than truly savoring the pleasure of smoking.
Of course, in this impetuous society, there really was not much time for people to calm down, think of nothing, do nothing, and savor what made cigarettes special.
But in the small room, such an opportunity existed.
There was nothing one needed to do—not even work. As long as one could remain quiet, that was the best course of action.
Just like Mr. Passerby, who was moved that he had managed to get up at six that morning. His eyes were slightly closed, his entire body relaxed, and his mind empty.
With one puff, smoke as thick as milk entered his mouth before being drawn into his lungs.
His entire lungs seemed to be immersed in milk. The sensation was intoxicating. He could even imagine the smoke coursing through his body, and he could feel the pleasure his body naturally expressed after that puff.
His head felt a little dizzy.
Just one puff.
He was too relaxed—or perhaps too focused on enjoying the power of the cigarette. Without anything else to distract him, the effects of the nicotine were magnified many times over.
It was a feeling he had experienced only when he had first learned to smoke: a slight dizziness that was not unpleasant. On the contrary, it was deeply satisfying.
He had not felt this way in a