"Gimme a cigarette."
Mo Tingshen looked at him in surprise, "Don't you not smoke?"
"I don't smoke, but it doesn't mean I can't."
Xu Shu pointed to his wound, "If I don't smoke a few to calm my nerves, I'm afraid I might push this knife in deeper rather than pulling it out, and if I accidentally kill you, going to jail would be so unworthy."
He paused, then added, "After all, it wasn't me who started it, don't make her the scapegoat."
Mo Tingshen gave a deep laugh, "It's on the headboard, help yourself."
Xu Shu got up, shook a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. He took a drag, then was about to put it down but looked at Mo Tingshen and changed his mind. He rummaged through the medical kit for two vials of clear liquid, tapped his fingernail on them, popped the tops off, and sucked the liquid into the syringe.
He squinted eyes, pushing the air bubbles out of the syringe.
"Anesthesia."
Xu Shu explained and administered it to Mo Tingshen.
