Wang Yi laughed loudly when he heard Jordan's words.
What would Jordan think if he said, "Back in my village, only old men with nothing better to do play this"?
The two raised their glasses and took a sip of red wine.
Wang Yi wasn't much of a wine drinker, but even he could tell this wine was extraordinary.
Standing before the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, they could clearly see the last rays of the setting sun on the horizon.
They drank wine, admired the sunset, and chatted.
They talked about many things, but basketball was the one topic they avoided.
Jordan was different from Old Master Bo.
The old man was wise and had a wealth of knowledge. Talking basketball with him had been an eye-opening experience for Wang Yi.
When he discussed basketball with Wang Yi, it was like a veteran passing on his knowledge to a younger player.
Jordan was different. His competitiveness was the kind ordinary people simply couldn't understand.
His team was playing Wang Yi's team tomorrow.
There was no way he was going to talk basketball with Wang Yi now.
About half an hour later, night had fallen completely, and the city's streetlights formed glowing lines.
Jordan took out a box of fine cigars, clipped off the ends of two with a cigar cutter, and handed one to Wang Yi.
Wang Yi didn't smoke much, but since the God of Basketball had offered him one, he figured he could at least take a couple of puffs.
He took it, lit it, and inhaled.
The heavy smoke immediately made Wang Yi cough repeatedly.
His eyes watered.
Back in middle school, Wang Yi had once borrowed a classmate's cigarette out of curiosity and tried smoking.
That had been his first time, but he hadn't choked at