Chapter 101: Madness Before Death

Chen Guanlou stood before the prison gate, his face as cold as water.

Just moments ago, he had informed Minister Jiang Fengyu of the imminent execution order.

“The Emperor himself issued the decree. The Ministry of Justice tried its best, but no one could change the Emperor’s decision. Rumor has it some officials proposed petitioning at the Taiji Palace to beg for a reversal.”

Jiang Fengyu had sat motionless on his bedboard ever since Chen Guanlou delivered the news, silent as a clay statue.

“Minister Jiang, do you have any unfinished wishes? If you have words for your family, I’ll provide writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone, and send your letter for you.”

Chen Guanlou rarely felt sympathy for an official about to be beheaded. Jiang Fengyu was a poor court official, his robe patched, meals bought on credit. He was thrown into the Heavenly Prison merely for signing an impeachment memo against Jiang Tu. The only mercy was that the Imperial Prison was overcrowded—he ended up here instead, spared the brutal treatment of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Pitiful, lamentable, tragic.

One signature, and he lost his life.

He wasn’t even a rebel!

The old Emperor’s favoritism toward Jiang Tu had no limits. To vent his anger, he ignored facts and ordered the execution of every official who signed the memo. Does the old Emperor think the court isn’t chaotic enough? Does he think the rebels in Jinzhou aren’t causing enough trouble?

“Minister Jiang, is there anything you’d like to eat? Never mind—if you think of something later, just call out, and I’ll do my best to fulfill it.”

Sympathy could only grant Jiang Fengyu minor comforts—it couldn’t change his fate. Chen Guanlou left silently, hoping Jiang Fengyu would soon come to his senses and settle his affairs.

Passing Yu Zhaoan’s cell, Chen Guanlou did not stop.

But Yu Zhaoan couldn’t bear the silence—he muttered to him, “Things are falling apart!”

“Jiang Fengyu is to be beheaded, and you seem pleased?” Chen Guanlou narrowed his eyes at him.

Yu Zhaoan laughed heartily. “Chen Tou, you finally speak to me! I thought you’d stay silent forever.”

Chen Guanlou remained silent.

Some things need no exposure—both sides know the truth.

Yu Zhaoan smiled knowingly, as if in full control. “The executions of Jiang Fengyu and others are only the beginning. Just wait—things will grow worse.”

Chen Guanlou opened his mouth, then asked, “Can the outcome still be changed?”

Yu Zhaoan shook his head. “No one can alter the Emperor’s decision. Not one. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless it were the Emperor from ten years ago—then perhaps there was a sliver of hope.”

Ten years ago, the old Emperor still listened to ministers’ advice and occasionally reflected. Now, he was stubborn, suspicious, cold-hearted, and utterly inflexible.

No one could change the old Emperor’s mind—not even Jiang Tu. Jiang Tu’s rise was merely a matter of timing. If not him, it would’ve been Xu Tu, Li Tu, Zhang Tu. Someone would always emerge as the Emperor’s favored pet, doing his dirty work.

“If you can’t change it, why waste breath? I’ve no time for idle chatter,” Chen Guanlou snapped back.

Yu Zhaoan grinned smugly. “Chen Tou, you still hold a grudge against me! I offered my heart like the bright moon, yet the moon shines only on the gutter. Chen Tou, Chen Tou, you’re ungrateful, blind to kindness. Even I, Yu Zhaoan, misjudged you—truly, I had eyes but saw nothing.”

“If I’d known better, my grave would already be overgrown with waist-high grass,” Chen Guanlou snorted.

“Do you truly believe I killed that prison guard Hong?” Yu Zhaoan cut straight to the point.

Chen Guanlou stared at him, weighing what trick or motive lay beneath.

“It’s remarkable that Minister Yu remembers the surname of a lowly prison guard.”

“You clearly think I did it. Hmph. I have no reason to care about some lowly guard.” Yu Zhaoan remained as arrogant as ever. “There are others in this prison who wish to send messages out. Chen Tou, don’t let bias blind you—you can’t assume I killed your man. In your own words, that’s subjective, not objective.”

Using his own weapon against him, Chen Guanlou smiled.

“Whether you did it or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know what kind of man you are—and what kind of things you’re capable of. Minister Yu, I have no further questions. Goodbye.”

Chen Guanlou turned away quickly, unwilling to tangle further. He didn’t believe a single word of Yu Zhaoan’s defense. Even if the man was too proud to lie, so what? Hong Zhuangshi was dead—that was fact. The money hidden in the firewood had an unknown origin—that was fact too.

After a day and night of silence, Jiang Fengyu finally came to his senses.

He looked at Chen Guanlou, weeping pitifully.

A grown man, already ugly, now sobbing—he was unbearable to look at.

Jiang Fengyu had remained unsuccessful in his career for years, and for good reason. Officials who stood on the court floor might not all be capable, but they were all dignified in appearance. Take Yu Zhaoan in the next cell—he’d be a handsome old man even at sixty.

It was said Jiang Tu, the Emperor’s favorite, possessed a face more beautiful than Pan An—pleasing to the eye.

Case solved: the old Emperor was a beauty worshipper.

If you were ugly, you were thrown out.

Chen Guanlou rubbed his temples, troubled. “Minister Jiang, state your unfinished wishes. The Heavenly Prison can be surprisingly humane—we’ll try our best to fulfill them.”

Jiang Fengyu sniffled as he spoke: “I’ve lived in the capital for over a decade, never once returned home—only letters passed between us. I am unfilial!”

“Shall I send for writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone right away?”

Jiang Fengyu nodded, then shook his head, tears and snot streaming. “On my first day in the capital, I passed Zhang’s Roast Duck. The scent still haunts me. I planned to eat one once I had money—until I couldn’t eat another bite. Ten years passed, and I’ve never tasted Zhang’s Roast Duck. Now I’m about to die, yet I’ve never tasted it—I cannot die in peace!”

Ah. That’s it?

Chen Guanlou fell silent.

It couldn’t be this trivial.

He took a deep breath and solemnly promised: “Just Zhang’s Roast Duck? Consider it done. Tonight, you’ll eat until you can’t move.”

Jiang Fengyu nodded gratefully, then wiped his nose and tears with his sleeve. “Thank you, Chen Tou. Also… I still owe money…”

“Debts die with the man. Don’t worry about them.”

“Good, good.” Jiang Fengyu sighed in relief, yet his tears wouldn’t stop—he was truly afraid. Everyone feared death. Why had it come to him, a poor court official?

“The Emperor’s wrath and mercy are both divine grace. But why do I still resent it? I must submit a memorial. I must—I must—I must impeach Jiang Tu. If I’m going to die, let me write my own impeachment memo before I go. Please, Chen Tou, deliver it to the Bureau of Civil Affairs. Even if I descend into hell, I’ll keep my eyes open to see Jiang Tu’s end. I want to see how long he dares to be arrogant.”

Chen Guanlou hesitated a few seconds, then asked, “Minister Jiang, are you truly determined to impeach Jiang Tu?”