Chapter 165

Two days later, the Second Young Master finally left the Heavenly Prison and returned to his life as a royal grandson.

The Heavenly Prison thus shed a heavy burden, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Little Fan Da Ren, whose mouth had no gate, or perhaps was just too delighted, declared in front of everyone: "Finally got rid of that bastard—thank heaven and earth! Tonight, I'm treating everyone to drinks."

Everyone: …

Don't treat us to drinks. You treat us, we pay—what's the point?

A clever fellow sneaked up to Fan Yucheng and filed a malicious complaint.

As expected, Fan Yucheng summoned Little Fan Da Ren to the office and scolded him severely.

"... n officialdom, you must know the rules, know when to advance and when to retreat, control your emotions—do you understand? The Second Young Master just left the prison, and you're throwing a grand celebration—what are you trying to do?"

"I'm celebrating for the Second Young Master! He's finally out of prison—isn't that something to be happy about?"

Little Fan Da Ren's counterquestion left Fan Yucheng speechless.

"You're celebrating for the Second Young Master—or are you just sick of him as a plague?"

"Unfair! I'm desperate to curry favor with him—how could I possibly despise him as a plague? He didn't hold my mistakes against me, showed mercy, and I'm deeply grateful. But I'm lowly in rank and dared not ask him to drink with me—I just wanted everyone to quietly celebrate his freedom, Uncle. You know me—I'm no bad man."

Fan Yucheng half-believed him, but his anger had nowhere to go—he waved his hand irritably. "Enough, enough. Stop nagging. Just do your duty properly—get through this year first."

"There are only a few days left this year, Uncle—what's there to worry about?" Little Fan Da Ren shrugged.

Fan Yucheng rubbed his forehead, uneasy.

"I heard the court is arguing again—over money again. The Ministry of Revenue promised to backpay several months' salaries to officials in the capital so everyone can afford to celebrate the New Year, but now there are new complications. No one knows if we'll even get paid before the holiday."

"Uncle, we don't rely on the court's pittance to live—whether we get paid or not doesn't affect the Heavenly Prison."

"You know nothing! Is this just about salaries? If the higher-ups start making a habit of owing money, it'll become the norm—what are we then? Are we still court officials if we don't take court salaries? Would a shopboy who doesn't get paid still count as a real shopboy?"

Little Fan Da Ren froze—it suddenly made sense. He worked for the imperial family but got no pay—was he still a court official?

"Then what do we do?"

"Watch. Wait. Wait for the higher-ups to show a little mercy—otherwise, we can't do our jobs."

"Why does the court always have no money? Since I came to the Heavenly Prison, the only thing I've heard is 'no money.' No pay is bad enough, but even the grain and rice they're supposed to allocate hasn't arrived. The prison has to raise money on its own to buy food for the prisoners. Luckily, the prison's public account still has some savings—if not, the prisoners would starve to death. And if they do starve, whose fault is it?"

Fan Yucheng's mind was lost in heavy thoughts, but Little Fan Da Ren's word "starve" yanked him back.

"What did you just say? Starve the prisoners?"

Little Fan Da Ren was stunned, then quickly clarified: "I meant—if the higher-ups don't give money, they must at least give grain and oil. Thank heaven the public account has some funds—if not, someone would starve, and who'd be held responsible?"

"Starve! Ha! Starve! If they won't pay, letting a few prisoners starve is understandable, isn't it?"

"Uncle, you want to starve the prisoners in here? That… that's not right. What if the higher-ups investigate?"

"You know nothing. Go downstairs and bring Chen Guanlou here."

"Why call him? He's just a squad leader. Uncle, if you have something, talk to me!"

Fan Yucheng glared. "Talk to you? Do you have a clan elder who defeated rebels? Do you have ties to the Hou Fu? The most powerful man in court right now is the Marquis of Pingjiang. Chen Guanlou may be five generations removed, but he still bears the Chen surname—he's more useful than all of us combined. Go! Get him. And where's Li Shiyeh? Tell him to come quick—need his advice."

Little Fan Da Ren was spattered with spit and could only retreat helplessly, sending a jailer to fetch Chen Guanlou.

Since returning from Hujiacun, Chen Guanlou had gradually realized his aura was too fierce—it frightened people and drew attention. Lately, he'd been cultivating calmness, becoming utterly detached. Knowing Yu Zhaoan had sharp eyes, he'd avoided appearing before him entirely and even skipped his daily prison patrols.

His slacking had drawn Yu Zhaoan's notice—he'd asked the jailers about Chen Guanlou multiple times.

Chen Guanlou remained unmoved. Before he fully concealed his edge, he wouldn't risk anything—he couldn't let the cunning Yu Zhaoan spot the slightest flaw.

As for everyone else around him, they weren't worth worrying about.

In daily life, you rarely see even a third-rank martial cultivator—second-rank ones are rarer still. At fourth rank, within his current circle, he'd never encounter anyone except Old Zhao Feng.

Fourth-rank martial cultivators either serve in the army, are kept as pets by powerful families, or dwell in sects and clans.

None of these three groups were accessible to someone of his current status.

Chen Guanlou feared Yu Zhaoan not because of his martial depth, but because the man's gaze was too piercing and his mind too sharp—any tiny clue could let him catch the tail of the truth. He didn't want his secrets exposed.

Xiao Jin kept nagging him that Yu Zhaoan muttered daily that Chen Guanlou had some illicit dealings, otherwise why avoid him? Chen Guanlou was already annoyed—luckily, Fan Yucheng needed him, so he quickly left.

Arriving at the office, he saw Fan Yucheng and Li Shiyeh both wearing grim expressions—he was puzzled. The Second Young Master had left the prison; they should be happy—why the long faces?

"Little Chen, come in. Don't stand—sit down. Jinzhou won a victory—the rebels have been utterly crushed. A great joy."

The rebels had merely retreated and regrouped—they weren't utterly crushed. Chen Guanlou silently thought this, but it didn't matter now. The old emperor needed a victory; the court needed a victory—any victory was good.

The Hou Fu could thrive long-term; even if the Chen family gained no direct benefit, they could still rejoice. Walk outside, say you're a Chen, and people look at you twice as high—business and tasks go smoother, yamen runners won't harass you out of respect for the family name.

Being a Chen had many advantages, especially hidden ones.

Should the Hou Fu fall, the Chen family would surely face scorn and cruel treatment.