Chapter 113: No One Believes the Truth
"I just said it, didn’t I? The tobacco leaves might have been top-notch, but the craftsmanship is also quite sophisticated," said Uncle Terry with confidence that left everyone no option but to believe, "The production process for these tobacco strands is absolutely the best. Consider this: why would counterfeit-cigarette makers bother with such a complex technique? Besides, even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t have the technical skills. So, I am certain that these cigarettes must have slipped out from the Capital of SSUP."
David Johnson slapped James Brown on the shoulder and exclaimed, "Man, where did you get these fine cigarettes? Not giving me a pack? That’s not cool at all."
James shrugged and replied, "Honestly, I had no idea these cigarettes were anything special. If I had known, I wouldn’t have smoked them so casually. I could have sold them and made a killing."
Uncle Terry then eyed the half-pack of cigarettes in James’ hand and suggested, "How about you sell me those cigarettes?"
Shaking his head, James responded, "I’ve already smoked half of them. Why would I sell them to you? Come on, let’s all try them out and see what this legendary smoke tastes like. I, for one, can’t tell the difference."
With that, James distributed the cigarettes among the group, leaving just two, which he handed over to Uncle Terry, "Since you like them so much, Uncle, you can have the last two."
As everyone smoked, Uncle Terry’s mouth twitched in a grimace of distress, as if watching a tragic waste. After thanking James repeatedly, Uncle Terry finally walked away.
Indeed, like Uncle Terry had expected, none of them could quite discern what made these cigarettes so special—the girls didn’t hate the taste, probably because it didn’t irritate the throat too much.
Bobby Robinson questioned again, "James, did you really buy these from the overpass?"
With a wry smile, James said, "You all could go check out the overpass too. There’s lots of fake cigarettes on sale there."
Some believed him, others didn’t, but just then, John Stephens’ father hurried over, anxiously asking, "Can anyone contact a wedding host right away?"