Wen Zaizi stared in surprise. "...It was only a few words back then, yet you remembered them so clearly."
He was clearly somewhat moved.
"No, I just have a good memory. Once I hear something, I don't forget it." Of course, Pei Ye had not committed his prison companion's food preferences to heart-he only knew that Miss Ming ate pears; he did not even know what Piao Qing liked to eat. He had simply searched back through his mind before coming.
"...Oh. That's quite remarkable, then." Wen Zaizi's voice had already grown weak, and his exposed wrists were noticeably thinner. Yet faced with a whole spread of food, he first poured himself a brimming cup of wine, tipped back his head, and drained it.
Only then did Pei Ye take a proper look at him. The man had a thoroughly upright face: a high, straight nose, lips neither thick nor thin, and cheeks neither full nor gaunt. The people who had gone to the Heavenly Principles Academy to plead for him had called him an upright man who dared to speak his mind, and that was precisely the character his face conveyed.
Only at the corners of his brows and eyes was there a sudden, sharply rising edge, truly like the tip of a blade.
His fingers left two dirty marks on the wine cup. Wen Zaizi set it down and let out a deep, relieved breath.
"I wanted to ask around and see whether there was any way to save you, but it doesn't look very likely." Pei Ye looked at him. "Did you say something terribly outrageous?"
"For you to have that thought at all is chivalry of the highest order, Brother Pei." Wen Zaizi lifted his sleeve and picked up a morsel of food with a smile,