The familiar form of address draws a deep frown. What softness crept into his expressions over the last few months is gone. The sharp look he gives silently states what his mouth doesn't speak: how dare you address me so!

(Somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, Ouyang finds himself fixating on the dark blue robes Mingye wears. There's something familiar, comforting in the sight of the blue and his hand drifts unconsciously to the flowers in his belt.)

"Am I a prisoner?"