Chapter 136: Kill if you can; if not, endure

The trail has gone completely cold.

Chen Guanlou was deeply discouraged. He discussed the matter with Fan Yucheng, deliberately avoiding Fan Yuli.

"The trail is now completely cold. With our abilities, we can no longer continue the investigation. What should we do?"

Fan Yucheng was utterly distraught, his forehead wrinkled so tightly it could trap a mosquito.

Chen Guanlou proposed telling the Second Young Master the entire story, straight and true.

This move was extremely risky.

He was gambling.

If the Second Young Master were merely a noble scion, a bureaucrat's son, he would never have taken this gamble.

The Second Young Master is an imperial grandson. Imperial grandsons and officials are fundamentally different—their ways of thinking, their positions, their interests—all diverge.

According to Fan Yucheng's plan, they would sacrifice Fan Yuli to take the blame and cover it up. This trick might be tacitly accepted by officials—they'd do the same themselves. Deceiving superiors and concealing truths from below is the unshakable rule of officialdom. But the Second Young Master…

Fan Yucheng was still uncertain. "Are you certain this will work?"

"We have to try. For an imperial grandson, they'd likely despise deception more than failure. Take the Hou Fu—within the household, loyalty is paramount. I imagine the Wang Fu is no different."

Fan Yucheng gripped the edge of the table, struggling with indecision. "How well do you know the Second Young Master?"

"Not well. But he'll surely listen to the truth—not a fabricated report meant to appease him."

Fan Yucheng gritted his teeth, as if finally making up his mind. "Fine. Follow your plan. Go see the Second Young Master. Tell him everything exactly as it happened. Beg for his mercy."

Chen Guanlou froze. "Won't you go see the Second Young Master yourself, sir?"

Fan Yucheng shook his head. "I won't go. Little Chen, all their lives rest on you now. Do everything you can to convince the Second Young Master to spare the Tianlaomiao, to spare us all. Whoever poisoned them, whatever scheme lies behind it—the Tianlaomiao was merely caught in the crossfire. Everyone here values their life. No one would dare commit an act that warrants extermination of nine clans."

Chen Guanlou was speechless. After all his running around, the burden still landed on him. Being an official is easy—just open your mouth, and subordinates run themselves ragged. Do well? It's expected. Fail? You're lazy, incompetent, unworthy—and if you die, you deserve it.

With his own life at stake, Chen Guanlou had no choice but to accept the task. He steeled himself and headed for the Tianlaomiao.

To prove his point, he wore his uniform—unwashed for days—reeking of sour sweat, to meet the Second Young Master. He meant to say: Look, we jailers have tried our utmost. We've worked nights on end, with no time to return home and change. Don't doubt our resolve to uncover the truth. We're simply limited by our abilities. Please spare the lives of everyone in the Tianlaomiao.

He bowed low before the Second Young Master, awaiting fate's favor—or abandonment.

The Second Young Master had fully recovered. The physician's detox pills worked wonders, and his subsequent treatment drew upon his lifetime's knowledge—his skill rivaled even that of the Taiyi Academy's chief physicians. He'd only ended up in the Tianlaomiao due to ill fortune.

The Second Young Master paced inside his cell. "According to you, the swordsman was bribed to kill the Gu Hotel family with another sum of money."

"Precisely."

The Second Young Master let out a cold, mocking laugh. "I never knew I was so dearly wanted by someone."

Chen Guanlou remained silent.

The tone made it clear—the Second Young Master suspected someone. He might even have concrete evidence. The person's identity was too sensitive to name, too dangerous to speak of.

Even if he spoke, Chen Guanlou dared not listen.

He had always remembered: the less you know, the safer you are.

"Should we continue the investigation?" Chen Guanlou ventured.

The Second Young Master fell silent, long and deep. Chen Guanlou stayed still, pretending to be invisible.

"What do you think I should do?"

The Second Young Master suddenly asked.

Chen Guanlou pondered, gauging his intent, then replied: "Choose by interest—or by conscience."

Only these two options existed.

There was a third: neither choose nor act—pretend nothing happened. But that contradicted the Second Young Master's status and interests, so Chen Guanlou didn't mention it. To say so would only invite annoyance and suspicion of hidden motives.

Weighing options means measuring gains and losses, desires and needs—not the reckless ignorance of a street brat. Born into the imperial family, the Second Young Master had long since learned to think before every action.

He was weighing.

"Then which do you think I should prioritize—interest or conscience?"

By conscience, he'd seek swift vengeance. By interest, he'd have to swallow his pride.

Chen Guanlou dared to ask: "May I ask, what is it that you truly want?"

Only with a goal can one determine the right choice.

"What do I want? Hahaha… No one has asked me that in years. You ask well. What do I want? So much… I can't decide right away."

The Second Young Master frowned, deep in thought, visibly torn.

The stakes involved were beyond Chen Guanlou's knowledge—and beyond his desire to know. He simply stood silent in the corner, waiting for orders.

"If you were in my position, what would you do?" The Second Young Master asked, half-smiling, as if merely curious.

Chen Guanlou could not brush it off. The lives of everyone in the Tianlaomiao hung on the Second Young Master's next word. He had to answer with full attention, seriousness, and care.

He spoke: "If you can kill, kill. If you cannot, wait for autumn to settle accounts."

His answer was brief, stark—seeming full of bloodlust, yet brimming with pragmatic wisdom.

"Hahaha…" The Second Young Master burst into laughter, clearly pleased. "Excellent—'kill if you can, settle accounts in autumn.' Chen Tou has a gift for simplifying complexity. No matter how tangled the matter, you reduce it to one sentence. Good. Very good. Concise, direct, to the core. But what if I cannot kill? And what if I have no chance to settle accounts in autumn? What then?"

Chen Guanlou felt as if riding a rollercoaster—up, then down, his emotions surging with every word.

He looked the Second Young Master in the eye and said solemnly: "Only endure."

The Second Young Master's expression darkened instantly, heavy with gloom and a chilling aura.

"Endure? Do you know the character for 'endure' has a knife above it? Someone wants my life, yet I must endure? Chen Tou, you're not being honest!"

"Those who pursue great matters must endure what ordinary men cannot. It may seem there's no chance now—who dares say there won't be one in three or five years? The one who laughs last is the true victor. Letting go of temporary wins or losses—what harm is there?"

The Second Young Master: …

He stared at Chen Guanlou in surprise. In that moment, he realized this young jailer, though young, spoke with profound life wisdom—remarkable indeed.

"I can't imagine what you've endured to speak such deep words."