By decree and pro

Yan was taken aback and couldn't help staring at the boy, who also stared back at Yan.

"Stranger..." The boy frowned and said, his voice was still hoarse, as if rusted.

"You too." Yan said in Xiliang language.

The boy has an oval face, a pair of brown almond eyes are wide open, like a little leopard, his eyes are very bright.

He also has fluffy hair like a horse's mane, dark brown, all tied back, only a few strands of curly hair curled up at the temples, showing a little childishness.

It can be said that he doesn't look like Yan people like Yan, nor Xiliang people.

When Yan was in Dayan, there was an attendant from Xiliang named Saha who once told Yan: The real Xiliang people have white skin like snow, blue eyes and blond hair, high eyebrows and deep eyes, and they are bigger than Yan in stature regardless of gender. People are tall.

The boy was petite and had an exotic look on his face.

"I'm from Ankeny, and my name is Ilya," the boy suddenly asked, "Where are you from?"

"My name is Chunyu Yan, and I am from Dayan Country." Yan looked at Ilya and said, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen." Ilya asked. "What about you?"

"24."

Elijah showed a surprised expression.

"what happened?"

"It looks like you are only seventeen or eighteen years old." Ilya sighed, "I thought you were as old as me."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Yan smiled instead, "But I'm really four out of twenty."

The young man's "disappointed face" reminded Yan of his third younger brother "Tianyu", he would moan and sigh every time he was disappointed, as if the sky was falling, but this exaggerated appearance made people laugh instead.

"Then you are here to run a business? You have children at the age of 24, and your family is here?" Ilya asked in a breath.

"Uh, I'm not married yet." Ilya dared to be an "inquisitor", so Yan had no choice but to ask back, "Why are you here?"

"Selling jute branches privately." Ilya said, "I was caught by the soldiers."

"Jute sticks?"

"It's equivalent to tobacco, but it's more powerful than tobacco." Ilya gestured with his fingers an inch long, "It's only this small, and after chewing it, it doesn't hurt any more."

Yan had never heard of jute twigs, but Xiliang had many weird things, like the incense that dispelled his internal energy.

"Do you know 'Butterfly Drunk'?"

"I know, it's expensive, but it's very effective." Ilya grinned, "It's specially designed to knock down experts, and it's useless to ordinary people. By the way, how did you get in?"

"It's hard to say." Yan smiled wryly.

"Oh." Ilya nodded, and didn't ask any further questions. Instead, he licked his dry and chapped lips and said, "Stranger, let's talk less and rest."

Yan nodded, feeling that he was sitting in a big steamer that was blazing hot, his whole body was so hot that it hurt so much that he couldn't help but look up.

The sky was so bright that there was no cloud at all...

"Don't look, it will feel better until the evening," said Ilya, who was wearing a coarse cloth shirt with a hood. He put the hat on and sat cross-legged with his head down.

Both men and women in Xiliang love to wear skirts. No, it should be said that everyone here likes to wear skirts.

And the skirt on Ilya's body was like a big coarse cloth bag on him, and then tied around the waist with a leather cord. The skirt was placed above his knees, and when he crossed his legs, he could see that he was not wearing anything underneath.

Yan turned his gaze away, and sighed secretly, his heart was already full of fire in this suffering, and seeing such a young death row prisoner, his mood was even worse.

"If I had known this, the knife should have been stabbed in Usman's forehead, not the head of the bed." Yan closed his eyes and meditated, trying to gather his inner strength. After a moment, he seemed to be fished out of the water. Drenched from top to bottom.

Useless.

The inner strength that was once as deep as a rock seemed to be smashed into powder and drifted away with the wind, and it couldn't be picked up at all.

Yan couldn't help thinking, if Xiliang people used this kind of mist to deal with Dayan soldiers, the consequences would be disastrous.

"Sure enough, we should kill Usman." No matter what Yan thought about, he would always come to this conclusion. He clenched his fists and couldn't help but smashed the wall.

The sand and stones crashed down, spreading flames all over his body.

"Haha!" Ilya laughed loudly upon seeing this, pointing at Yan and said, "I've never seen someone as stupid as you, making myself ashamed."

Yan admired him for being able to smile so brightly in this situation.

In the death row during the day, there are only weak humming sounds, no one yells, wasting energy and saliva.

Ilya's hoarse laughter was very unpleasant, and it also attracted the guards. They stood at the cell door and looked down, which gave them a little shadow.

"Ilya!" There was a very tall guard who called Ilya's name and said something in a rough voice.

Yan couldn't understand what the guards said, it might be the language of a certain tribe.

Ilya didn't answer and ignored the guard. Seeing that he was indifferent, the guard suddenly lifted up his skirt, took out the "guy" and peed into the prison hole.

Yan was shocked, Ilya got up and stepped aside, the urine dripped down like rain.

"Hahaha!" The guard laughed wildly while urinating.

Yan narrowed his eyes in anger, grabbed a stone on the ground, and planned to teach that person a lesson.

"Don't." Ilya said softly, "They will leave in a while."

After the guard finished pulling, he grunted proudly, then walked away with a smile.

The place that was originally hell-like became even more stinky and unbearable.

"We are death row prisoners, they can dispose of them at will, but as long as we don't cause trouble and hold our breath here, maybe we can get an amnesty."

"Amnesty?"

"Yes, the king will pardon some death row prisoners as soon as he is happy." Ilya smiled, "This is the only thing we can hope for."

"When was the last time the King of Xiliang pardoned you?"

"half year ago."

"..."

"Don't look at me like that, it's better to have hope than nothing." Elijah got up and picked some dry soil from the wall, and covered the place where he peed.

"But I don't think the King of Xiliang will be happy during this time." Yan said.After all, he rejected Usman's marriage proposal.

"why?"

Yan didn't answer, but got up and buried the dirt with Ilya.

"What is this?" In an inconspicuous corner, Yan saw a broken pottery bowl with a hairy thing inside.

"It's wheat cake." Ilya said, "You can eat it."

"It's moldy! How to eat it."

"Yeah, we can only eat rotten and sour food, and then have diarrhea, get sick, and die."

Ilya felt that Yan's question was naive, and said, "Are you really 24 years old? This is a death row. They want us to die, and they want us to die in excruciating pain. Let us confess our mistakes in pain. And pray that you will not suffer this crime in the next life.”

"Isn't this torture and killing?" Yan frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Okay, let's sit down and rest." Ilya was a little familiar, or he found that Yan was easy to talk to.

Yan sat down again. Speaking of which, he was hungry, but he couldn't put his mouth down looking at the colorful cake.

"You need to eat something. Although this piece of wheat cake is moldy, it's not that bad. At least it's not like meat, which can kill people if it smells bad." Ilya persuaded Yan patiently, "We grew up here, He is more tolerant of the poisonous sun above his head and the frozen soil under his feet than you, if you don’t eat, you will die when your energy is exhausted.”

Yan didn't speak, and Ilya put the wheat cake in front of him.

Yan knew that as long as he agreed to Usman's marriage proposal, or just begged for mercy, Usman would get him out of here.

"Maybe it's not that bad." Yan picked up the hard wheat cake, which seemed to be mixed with a lot of grains, and took a bite.

"Woo!" After chewing for a while, Yan's face turned green, and the inside was actually soft, no...it looked like a bug.

Yan lay on the ground and vomited.

"Hey, you can't vomit, you'll become dehydrated!" Ilya yelled, but Yan couldn't hold the brake at all at the moment, so he vomited cleanly.

Ilya patted him on the back and muttered: "Could it be that you have never suffered? I know, you are a child of a rich family, right? Or a noble son? How could your noble son come to such a place? Young masters are granted amnesty..."

Yan didn't have the strength to answer him, and he propped himself up on the ground in a collapsed state. It's only been a while since he's almost dying from tossing.

"Huh..." Yan panted, staring unwillingly, suddenly, he grabbed the remaining half of the pancake, closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"...Are you alright?" Ilya asked after seeing Yan's livid face and no movement after eating.

Yan fell down straight and fainted.

"My God!" Ilya shook Yan, and then saw thin red bumps popping up on Yan's arms and face.

"Wake up, spit it out!" Unexpectedly, this foreigner could not tolerate this wheat cake, and he was about to die!

Yan woke up, not because of Ilya's shaking, but because of the itching all over his body, he woke up with a start.

"Don't scratch, it's more troublesome to scratch the flower, it's better to spit it out." Ilya advised.

Yan nodded, went to the corner of the wall, hit his upper abdomen with his hand, and vomited wildly.

After vomiting, the sun began to set, and the bottom of the cave became obviously cooler. Yan was lying on a fairly clean ground, breathing weakly.

"Go to sleep, it will be fine after a while." Ilya said.

Yan closed his eyes, and the wailing of death row prisoners sounded around him again. When the moonlight filled the bottom of the pit, Yan heard someone walking that wall ladder, "creak, creak." trembling.

However, he couldn't open his eyes and just fell into a deeper sleep.