Xiao Zhang answered at once. "No, that's not what I said. I meant—"
Before he could finish, Mr. Tang raised a hand to stop him.
"I'm joking," he said. "Don't get worked up, young man. Relax."
The information came through on the internal network. Mr. Tang opened the presentation and skimmed it.
Xiao Zhang had the impression that Mr. Tang had picked out a few important images and glanced at them. The whole thing took less than three seconds.
Once he was done, he looked away, pulled a pack of cigarettes from a cabinet beneath his desk, and lit one as if no one else were there.
Xiao Zhang saw the packaging clearly. He had never seen anything like it. There was no tar content, no manufacturer, no logo—just a red circle on a plain white soft pack, with a large character for "longevity" inside it.
The sight of the pack made Xiao Zhang deeply uncomfortable.
Even while smoking, Mr. Tang sat ramrod straight.
Smoke curled from his mouth.
He said nothing the entire time. He merely narrowed his eyes at Xiao Zhang, studying him through the smoke. There was no telling what he was thinking.
Xiao Zhang kept his face blank, but inwardly he was already cursing.
What the hell is wrong with him? Smoking indoors? Has he got no consideration for anyone else?
Yet something was strange. Mr. Tang had taken several deep drags since lighting the cigarette.
But despite sitting just across a desk from him, Xiao Zhang couldn't smell a trace of smoke!
And the cigarette between Mr. Tang's fingers looked slim, yet it was much longer than an ordinary slim cigarette.
After a couple of puffs, he gave an inexplicable smile, leaving Xiao Zhang baffled.
Xiao Zhang shifted his attention to the matches on the