The prison door creaked open, and a damp, musty smell, mixed with the scent of straw, rushed out to meet us. The torchlight fractured through the iron bars into neat squares, as though trying to slice a person into pieces.

  Prefect Li proved his knack for thoroughness—knowing the “combat potential” of the Blood Lotus Sect, the first order of business was to separate us.

  Lian, Hua, Shangguan Fengliu, and the Deputy Envoy each got their own cell. By my rank, I should have had the privilege of a “single room,” too, right?

  But when the guard shoved me into the cell at the far corner, I froze, pointing at the figure inside, slowly brushing dust off his sleeves, and protested:

  “Hey—why don’t I get my own cell?!”

  The guard didn’t even look back.

  “We act only according to the master’s orders.”

  I was about to argue further, when Lian lazily raised an eyelid and said, flatly,

  “I don’t either.”

  …

  I shut my mouth immediately.

  Being stuck in the same cell as Lian? This had to be a prison forged by Hades himself.

  Not long after I sat down, my stomach began to growl in rhythm. After a day spent running, fighting, and barely touching a sip of hot water, the hunger hit like a pack of furious rats gnawing their way up my insides.

  I endured three rumbles before I could no longer hold it, craning my neck to shout toward the door:

  “Oi! Food! Even if this place is shabby, there must be rules, right? The people live by food!”

  Sure enough, the guard returned with the meals.

  I had assumed, as “wanted criminals” in the eyes of the court, our rations would be roughly equal. The next moment, however, I questioned all of reality.

  Lian’’s bowl—steaming meat soup, tender slices of meat neatly arranged, with a small side of pickled radish.

  Hua’s—aromatic yellow wine–braised chicken, glistening with sesame, enough to bring tears of longing to the eyes.

  Shangguan Fengliu’s—hefty chunks of perfectly braised pork ribs, enough to make a poor prisoner like me seriously consider breaking out just to get a bite.

  The Deputy Envoy—plain, clear chicken stew with a shiny leg, neat and simple.

  Mine—a… dry, wrinkled bun, hardened as if capable of smashing a rat to pieces.

  “…”

  I froze for several seconds, instinctively looking up.

  “…Where’s the rest of the food?”

  The guard’s face remained impassive.

  “None.”

  I blinked. “What do you mean, none? You mean there isn’t any, or you didn’t give it?”

  “Same difference.”

  I clutched my pitiful bun, offering one last silent farewell to the fragrant meat soup. Muttering under my breath,

  “This… this isn’t right. We’re on the same side—same guilt, same punishment, shouldn’t we get the same meal? This… is discrimination!”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The guard raised an eyebrow, not even glancing at me.

  “You’re on their side? Huh. Can’t tell.”

  He turned and left, leaving the lingering aroma of rich meat, as if deliberately highlighting my misery.

  I held my bun like it were a life crumpled and pinched by fate. After staring at it for a long while, I couldn’t bring myself to chew, so I thick-skinnedly shuffled over to Lian, grinning:

  “Lian… that soup smells incredible. Mind if I have a sip?”

  He lifted his eyes lazily.

  “Mind if you have a sip? I’m nothing but a servant beside the sect leader. How dare I hand my soup to a young master from the Nangong house? If word got out, what kind of propriety would that be?”

  I nearly choked on my own saliva—so much for my old big-brother-sweetening lies; he’d reused them perfectly to shut me up.

  I quickly offered a conciliatory laugh.

  “I—well, that was just a temporary measure. Now we eat, sleep, and survive as cellmates. Do we really need all these formalities? For old times’ sake—”

  Lian raised an eyebrow, half-smiling.

  “If you said that in front of your big brother, he might actually believe it.”

  —At that, I choked, even swallowing became difficult.

  I could only silently pray—survive, survive, until the second round of meals.

  After finishing (or rather gnawing) my bun, I leaned against the cold wall and asked,

  “So… we just wait here? Wait for interrogation? Wait for the execution?”

  I began to tally my “bad deeds”—tricking my big brother, deceiving Lian, letting Huatake the blame, helping snatch the military tally… halfway through, I felt certain the outcome was grim.

  Lian, meanwhile, remained as calm as spring air, as if the wind outside the prison weren’t cold at all.

  He suddenly turned his head, casually asking,

  “Your brother—why suddenly go after that jade? Wasn’t it your birthday gift to me?”

  My chest tightened. I forced a calm smile.

  “A gift is a gift, but my brother is strict. Family rules: heirlooms cannot be given away. I thought… best to retrieve it first, calm him down. Once he’s pleased, I’ll pick an even better one for you—” I coughed, “—I mean, select a better one for you.”

  Lian studied me, a glint of interest in his eyes.

  “Oh? So you came to retrieve it, or to replace it with something better?”

  I scrambled to clarify.

  “Neither—just borrowed it to explain to my brother. Once he’s pleased, whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.”

  “Hm?” His gaze sharpened, subtly appraising.

  “Now that the Nangong house seems wanted by the court, what could you possibly ‘get’? Can you even keep yourself safe?”

  I was struck dumb. Quick thinking, I tried again.

  “Then… keep it safe for me for a couple of days? One more person, one more safeguard. Once the heat dies down, I’ll return it properly.”

  He slowly withdrew his gaze, voice cool.

  “You think I’d bring anything important into a place like this? Am I a fool?”

  He paused, then added,

  “The jade isn’t with me. Want to see it? Wait until we’re out.”

  I grimaced, still trying.

  “Then… at least let me confirm—it’s still safe, right?”

  “It is.” He glanced at me, adding another subtle jab to keep me from pestering.

  “Safer than your head.”

  While I sulked over bun and jade, Hua in the next cell dragged out his words.

  “Tsk tsk, little Gong, gutsy of you. The sect leader said the jade’s gone, and you still ask to ‘borrow a look’—what, afraid he’ll forget you and need reminding?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You wouldn’t understand—this is negotiation.”

  “Oh, I understand. Negotiating how to help you dodge your brother’s wrath, right?” Hua shook his head, grinning like an old fox.

  “Honestly, even here you’re thinking of food. That’s bold—save your energy. When they interrogate you, at least keep your mind clear.”

  I froze—his sharp tongue carried… a hint of concern.

  Before I could respond, the Deputy Envoy muttered from the other side:

  “Actually—”

  But before he could finish, Hua jumped in:

  “You mean you’re embarrassed too, right? I get it, I get it.”

  The Deputy Envoy froze for two seconds before squeaking out:

  “…Not that.”

  Just as the tension stiffened, Shangguan Fengliu on the other side spoke lazily:

  “What are you two bickering about? You’re ruining my appetite for meat.”

  I pricked up my ears.

  “Meat? You’ve got meat?!”

  “Mm, two pieces left.” He shook the shiny, glistening bones in his hand, grinning mischievously.

  “Want some? Call me ‘my lord,’ and I’ll hand you a piece.”

  I nearly slammed my forehead on the cell bars.

  “Shangguan Fengliu, have some shame!”

  He laughed, taking a measured bite.

  “Shame doesn’t fill a belly. That bun with soup of yours—well, it’ll do for now.”

  I turned away, fuming, but couldn’t help swallowing. I debated trading my pride for meat, when Lian’s lazy voice drifted over:

  “Why bother to call him the lord? If you want soup, I’ve got some too.”

  I looked up, meeting his half-smile. Somehow, that smile carried a faint chill, as though if I didn’t drink his soup, I’d soon be hammered by a thousand small tortures.