That made sense. It was indeed a little early to drink right now.
Wen Li had directly refused to let the prisoner drink. Fu Qian didn't find that strange.
They'd just been discussing the risk of being silenced, after all, and the scene was so blatant.
Under these circumstances, letting the prisoner drink a beverage that had been poured in advance and whose origins were unknown?
That wasn't how you went about courting death.
What made Fu Qian marvel was how tactfully Miss Wen had refused, even coming up with an excuse.
She'd also kept quiet the whole time before this, probably hoping he'd take the initiative and show a little more regard for his life.
Unfortunately, that refined consideration—even for a prisoner—had gone unappreciated.
"True. It's still a little bright out."
Now that his wineglass had been confiscated, Fu Qian felt the feeling slowly returning to his arm. He lowered it onto the table bit by bit, then chose the time-honored tactic of taking his frustration out on someone else.
"What's going on? Didn't you say it was going to get dark soon?"
Frowning at Professor Lisha, he immediately voiced his dissatisfaction with her itinerary.
"It should be soon..."
Regardless, she had indeed been the one to say it was going to get dark.
Professor Lisha felt more than a little unjustly accused, but under his self-righteous interrogation, her voice still unconsciously dipped a little.
"Should?"
Fu Qian wasn't so easy to fob off. Repeating her word, he let out something close to a sneer.
"Is that how you reach your conclusions normally? You do everything based on what 'should' happen? What if it doesn't?"
Wasn't this the wrong kind of scene? They weren't even trying to be subtle.
The power of those three questions was immense. Faced