It isn't long before Weizhen is let out of his binds; so fast in fact that he almost feels suspicious.
At least until the old man says, "I did not know that princes could retire from being princes."
That's when it sinks in. "You know who I am." A small frown pulls at his lips, behind his mask of apathy, Weizhen shows small signs of confusion. Disappointment maybe. He rubs his wrists, his skin lightly bruised by rope.
"You know who I am as well," the old man scoffs, lumbering past the jug of wine to find another small one stored behind it. This one had water. He pulls out two bowls from one of the numerous trunks that decorate his tiny abode.
"Dong Surong," Weizhen nods. "You are the brother of Dong Hengmu."
The name gives the old man a pause. But he still pours Weizhen a bowl of water. "Now that's a name that I didn't expect to hear. Nor was it what I expected when you came upon my doorsteps."
