The Wang-surnamed merchant had already collapsed to the ground.
Lin Taichu took a step forward, intending to reach the door, but his legs would not obey. His knees gave way, and he dropped to the floor. He braced himself with his hands and tried to rise, only to collapse again.
The last thing he saw was Sun Desheng standing on the steps, looking down at him. There was neither joy nor anger on his face, only a flat, expressionless gaze. Then he turned and left.
When Lin Taichu woke again, his mouth tasted of rust. It was as dry as though stuffed with sand, his head buzzed, and his eyelids were too heavy to lift.
It took him two tries to open his eyes. Everything before him was dim. Light streamed in through a tiny window overhead, forming a palm-sized patch on the ground. It shone on a layer of dry straw covered in dust.
He lay on his side. His hands and feet were not bound, but his meridians had been sealed, leaving him unable to gather spiritual power. A heavy breath seemed lodged in his chest.
He sat up from the ground and leaned against a damp, cold wall, slowly looking around. It was a small stone prison cell, a little over ten feet long and wide. One side was barred with iron, and beyond the bars was a narrow corridor.
Su Yao sat against the wall diagonally opposite him, her head lowered, still unconscious. The Wang-surnamed merchant lay curled on his side beneath another wall, breathing steadily. He was probably still out cold.
Lin Taichu sat against the wall for a while, waiting for the buzzing in his head to fade slightly before calling out to Su Yao.
Su Yao did not move. He called again. Her