The father and son didn't go home but sat on the curb at their doorstep.
The street was shrouded in the murky glow of the streetlights, occasionally a cool breeze would stir, carrying a rustling sound.
Zhao Dafa fumbled for his pack of cigarettes and with a snap, lit one up.
Zhao Yun reached out his hand to him.
"What for?"
"Let me have one."
Zhao Dafa was stunned for a moment, then flew into a rage the next second and took off his shoe, "You little rascal, you're just a whippersnapper and you're already trying to smoke! How about I give you two shoe soles, huh?"
Zhao Yun stood his ground, moving his face close to Zhao Dafa, "Just kill me with smoking then. If you kill me, you can have a new son with Auntie Hui."
Zhao Dafa's anger dissolved in a woosh.