Zhou is, of course, long gone.
In the nineteen years Pei Ye had lived, his closest contact with "Zhou" was in the classrooms of the National University, when old Master Confucius said, "Ah, how luxuriant is its culture! I follow Zhou," or when reciting the Book of Poetry, listening to the Zhou Song fawning over the former kings from afar.
Other than that, this ancient dynasty hadn't left many traces behind. It naturally never occurred to Pei Ye that one day he would personally lay eyes on its Emperor.
The man said, "You won't answer this either?"
Pei Ye counted on his fingers: "I'm counting—Zhou, Qin, Han, Jin, Sui… old man, it's Tang now."
"..."
Ji Man fell silent for a moment, took a deep breath, and asked again, "Why exactly are you in Xuanpu?"
"I was captured and brought here." Pei Ye didn't know why he kept asking this question, he answered coldly.
Ji Man let out a sound that was half surprise, half mockery: "Hoh."
Pei Ye's face was expressionless.
