Fang Yue and Zhao Qian were taken to the Government Office and thrown into a prison cell.
The cell was dim and damp, and a foul stench permeated the air.
Zhao Qian sat slumped on the floor, his face a mask of helplessness and despair.
"Fang, I'm sorry. It's my fault you're mixed up in this," he said, guilt-ridden.
Fang Yue waved his hand, showing he didn't mind.
He scanned his surroundings, observing the cell's environment and construction. 'A plan was already forming in his mind.'
"Zhao, you don't have to blame yourself."
Fang Yue comforted him, "You've taken good care of me on this journey; we should face hardships together. Besides, I'm sure we won't be in here for long."
Zhao Qian looked up, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of hope in Fang Yue's eyes.
But just as quickly, it was extinguished.
Zhao Qian sighed and continued, "Fang, there's something you don't know. The officialdom of Great Wei… ugh, it's incredibly dark.
