Chapter 115: I Am a Good Man

“Don’t scare me!” Shi Hong didn’t believe Chen Guanlou was genuinely helping him and instinctively retorted.

“Scare you? Hah! Are my words behind your recent misfortunes? Think for yourself—how’s it feel being a Company Commander?”

“I… if you have a grudge against me, just say it outright.” Shi Hong refused to back down. As he countered Chen Guanlou, he pondered who might hold a grudge against him—could it be Little Fan? Unlikely!

Little Fan and Fan were one and the same; siding with Fan meant siding with Little Fan.

“What grudge could I possibly hold against you? You haven’t hindered me in the slightest. I’m just doing my duty. The accounts are due soon, and if you can’t pay, it’s you who suffers—not me. If I truly held a grudge, I’d watch you collapse without lifting a finger, not come here to warn you kindly.”

Chen Guanlou shook his head repeatedly. Times had changed—good people got taken for fools. Kindness was met with ingratitude.

Shi Hong was half-skeptical. “First tell me—who holds a grudge against me?”

“Many hold grudges against you. Did you know someone else had already set their sights on this position and paid a fortune for it? Then you came along and snatched it away. Think about it.”

Shi Hong was speechless and quickly lifted his teacup to sip, hiding his inner unease.

“Is it Little Fan who’s unhappy with me?”

Chen Guanlou snorted coldly and stayed silent.

Shi Hong grew even more agitated. “It can’t be Fan himself who’s angry with me.”

Chen Guanlou remained silent, sipping his tea without speaking.

“Could it be Master Song? He doesn’t want this position, right?”

Chen Guanlou chuckled, leaving the implication for him to grasp.

“Could it really be Master Song?”

“Whoever it is, hurry up and pay the money. If I get the chance, I’ll speak well of you to your superiors. You’ve got connections with Fan—use them. If needed, spend more.”

Shi Hong’s face twitched. He had no money left for bribes. He’d already given his cousin away and paid heavily to secure the Company Commander post. Then bad luck struck—he’d barely taken office when the allocation ratios changed, slashing his income. His expenses far outweighed his earnings, and the more he worked, the angrier he grew.

Now that he learned he was being targeted—likely by Master Song—he was terrified.

“If Master Song truly wants my position, why am I still sitting here? Even if Fan the Jail Warden is powerful, he can’t outmatch Master Song.”

“How would I know the details? I’m only warning you out of brotherhood—we’re all serving in Tianlaomiao. Believe me or not, it’s your choice. Right now, focus on solving the money problem. Once that’s done, everything else becomes easy. Right?”

Shi Hong looked bewildered, unsure whether to trust Chen Guanlou or suspect his motives.

His mind was a mess.

Deep down, his hatred for Chen Guanlou had lessened—he even felt a flicker of gratitude for the warning, though he’d never admit it. Whoever held a grudge against him, whoever made his life difficult—he’d find out. Eventually.

Liu She watched Shi Hong leave, opened his mouth, then closed it. Xiao Jin had been right—no fight broke out; the conversation had gone surprisingly well. Shi Hong departed anxious, not angry.

He rushed into the duty room and asked cautiously, “Chief Chen, is the problem resolved?”

“Mostly. Now Hong Tou will focus hard on raising money—he won’t have time for idle talk. You handled this well. Remember: report any developments immediately.”

“Yes, Chief Chen, rest assured.”

Liu She left the duty room confused, still unsure how Chief Chen had changed Shi Hong’s hostile attitude. No wonder he was the boss—while he’d remained a lowly jailer for years.

…

Every day, Zhao the Manager of Sitong Bank sent someone to press for payment.

Chen Guanlou always replied, “Almost done, almost done. By the eighth day, it’ll be settled.”

He was anxious too—waiting for news from Qi Wuxiu.

The news didn’t come, but Tianlaomiao suddenly gained several new prisoners—arrested abruptly, all from the Shaofu.

Chen Guanlou: …

He had a hunch the Embroidered Uniform Guard had moved.

The Shaofu had its own jail; the Embroidered Uniform Guard had imperial prisons. Yet these prisoners were locked in Tianlaomiao—clearly to prevent collusion, placing them under Ministry of Justice oversight of both Shaofu and the Embroidered Uniform Guard. To prevent Shaofu from silencing witnesses, to prevent the Embroidered Uniform Guard from embezzling. Only a neutral third-party jail made any sense.

The arrest of Shaofu officials greatly eased Shi Hong’s financial crisis. One prisoner assigned to him meant a wealthy man—truly wealthy—who paid quickly and generously.

Chen Guanlou was also lucky to get one. The man opened his mouth and demanded two thousand taels. Beyond not letting him out, Chen Guanlou ordered the jailers to treat him like a lord: put him in the best cell, replace the bed with a redwood bedstead, lay down fresh cotton quilts of fine linen, and supply desks, chairs, writing brushes, ink, inkstone, teapot, teacups—all present. Wine and tea flowed daily.

Wanted a bath? No problem. Jailers hauled bucket after bucket of hot water to the cell, along with clean white towels.

“My lord, any other requests?”

This service, this attitude—no five-star review? May your sons be born without anuses.

Yu Zhaoan couldn’t bear it.

He blocked Chen Guanlou. “Why does that bastard get hot water? I paid too—why don’t I get any? I’ve lived here a year, stinking to high heaven, and you never sent me a single towel.”

Chen Guanlou extended his right hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together twice. “Understand? If you, Lord Yu, are willing to pay, hot water will come.”

“I paid.”

“Was that money? That was just the entry fee to Tianlaomiao. What’s an entry fee? It’s what every official—rich or poor—must pay to enter, so everyone saves face. Better treatment? You must ask for it! Hey, I’m not demanding bribes or extorting you. Think: in the past year, have I or my jailers ever asked you for money? Ever hinted? No, right? If you hadn’t brought it up today, I wouldn’t have mentioned a word. People must learn to take initiative.”

Chen Guanlou smiled sweetly.

Yu Zhaoan held himself in high esteem—which meant he was stingy, stingy toward those beneath him, too proud to pay anyone lower. His life in Tianlaomiao was comfortable only because his family bribed their way in. To ask him to take initiative? That was humiliation.

A man so proud would never beg a jailer for better treatment by offering money.

But times had changed. The imprisoned Lord Yu, stinking after a year, longed to soak in hot water for three days and nights. That Shaofu bastard—he was green with envy.

“How much? I want hot water for washing.”

“One hundred taels!”

“You might as well rob me!” Yu Zhaoan exploded.