"She was not the one I was talking about," replied the Jackal, his mouth twisting in a sneer. "You should have picked the other one."
Longzi chuckled under his breath. Deming didn't, but his mouth tilted at one corner, which in Deming's language counted as laughter.
"You know nothing if that is what you truly think," chuckled Yizhen, shaking his head.
The Jackal worked the cuffs again, quiet, precise.
The iron gave him nothing. He tipped his head against the wall as if testing stone for secrets. "Yuyan wanted a message," he offered, casual as spare change. "A bone for your courtiers. That you bleed. That she could choose who wipes the floor after."
Yizhen's eyes lit with interest unconnected to mercy. "Tell me about Yuyan's messengers," he invited.
"Tell me about yours," the Jackal lobbed back.
"Mine live till payday," Yizhen replied, tone sunny. "Yours don't know how to swim."
