Chapter 201: Talking to a Smart Man

Liu Daowen has gained weight!

After being imprisoned in the Tianlao for half a year, Liu Daowen didn't lose weight—he gained over ten catties. Combined with long-term lack of sunlight, his skin had a pale, bluish-gray hue. He was altogether white and plump, and when he smiled, he looked just like Maitreya Buddha.

After all, he was a god of wealth worth five thousand taels; Chen Guanlou had specifically instructed that he be treated well, and every effort should be made to satisfy his food and clothing needs.

Early in the morning, after arranging the day's duties, he began inspecting the prison cells.

Chen Guanlou arrived before the cell door and tapped it with his water-and-fire staff.

Liu Daowen stirred, rolled over, and said, "Chen Tou's here! What an unexpected visit!"

His tone was teasing, clearly still harboring resentment over the five-thousand-tael debt.

Chen Guanlou ignored his sarcasm and asked, "Has anyone from outside recently passed you messages?"

"What do you mean by that?" Liu Daowen frowned, his expression wary.

Chen Guanlou gave a light laugh. "There's a deal—someone's interested in your treasured painting 'Stepping on Snow.' I'm here to make the connection. What do you say?"

"Not for sale!" Liu Daowen's tone was firm. During his half-year in Tianlao, he'd learned the ropes: as long as he paid enough, he needn't fear the guards playing petty tricks. Tianlao had its own rules; any guard who dared overstep would face consequences from above.

Chen Guanlou wasn't in a hurry. He asked, "Are you certain?"

"I said no, and I mean no."

"Lord Liu, don't rush into a decision. Why not speak with your household steward first? If you change your mind later, just let me know."

"What are you implying?" Liu Daowen shot to his feet. He heard the warning in the man's words; alarm surged, and a dread spread through him.

Chen Guanlou smiled faintly and said only, "Talk to your household steward. We'll speak again next time."

"Has my case made progress? Is the situation worse than I thought?"

Chen Guanlou slowly shook his head. "I don't know. Ask your household steward."

With that, he turned and left.

He needed to increase pressure on Liu Daowen to make him willingly sell the treasured painting, so he could lowball the price and pocket more commission.

Liu Daowen grew uneasy and, as advised, met with his household steward.

But the steward told him the case had made no progress—it was still dragging on. There was also no new word from Jiang Tu.

"What has Jiang Daoren been busy with lately?"

"Jiang Daoren is still the same—busy overseeing the Emperor's palace and garden construction."

"The summer grain hasn't even been collected yet—where's Jiang Daoren getting money to build palaces and gardens?" Liu Daowen narrowed his eyes.

"The Emperor has allocated fifty thousand taels from the imperial treasury to Jiang Daoren, saying construction must not halt."

Liu Daowen paced back and forth in his cell, visibly anxious.

"Has Lord Liu heard some news?" the steward asked curiously.

Liu Daowen waved his hand, intending to say nothing, but then changed his mind. "Help me think this through." He then laid out the entire story, from beginning to end.

Finally, he asked, "What do you think Chen Guanlou really means? Is he bluffing me?"

The steward frowned in thought. "Could Chen Guanlou have received orders from the Pingjiang Marquis?"

"The Pingjiang Marquis?" Liu Daowen froze.

Even during his peak, he'd never had the chance to interact with this group of aristocrats.

But as an official in the capital, he knew better than anyone: the aristocrats were a unique breed.

Though they rarely spoke in court, as if state affairs had nothing to do with them—while civil officials endlessly maneuvered and manipulated the empire's grand design—the aristocrats held unmatched influence. In terms of intelligence networks, deep-rooted lineage, tangled connections, and sheer wealth, no one dared challenge them.

Their people were everywhere—in the palace and beyond. Without tracing their ancestral lineage through three generations, you couldn't understand why a lowly clerk or the captain of the palace guards might be connected to them, or why the Emperor's concubines were either born into aristocratic families or bound by blood and marriage.

Over a century of intermarriage and mutual benefit had woven the aristocrats into a dense, all-encompassing web, spreading through every government office, inside and outside the palace.

This depth of influence was something Jiang Tu could never match, even after twenty more years of effort. That was precisely why the aristocrats had never bowed to Jiang Tu.

Civil officials fawned over Jiang Tu. Military officers fawned over Jiang Tu. But the aristocrats? They never did—not even a single glance.

Though the Pingjiang Marquis held no official post, his triumphant return had made him the undisputed center of the aristocratic faction.

A man like him likely knew more than even the old Emperor.

He must have learned something too sensitive to be spoken aloud.

At this thought, Liu Daowen panicked. "Find out for sure—was Chen Guanlou really collecting antiques and paintings for the Pingjiang Marquis?"

Any sensible person would never believe Chen Guanlou was doing business with the Pingjiang Marquis. Everyone would assume he was merely gathering antiques and paintings on the Marquis's behalf, satisfying his collector's obsession. In truth, he was just a lackey—only because he was close at hand did he get the chance.

The steward confirmed: "He truly was collecting antiques and paintings for the Pingjiang Marquis. Last time, because the Marquis was away from the capital, Chen Guanlou dealt with outside antique dealers."

"Didn't he go to the Marquis's Second Elder?"

"I heard the main and second branches of the Marquis's household are at war—they've broken ties completely."

No need to say more—those who understand, understand.

"Then Chen Guanlou is truly the Pingjiang Marquis's man. Go, quickly bring him here—I need to speak with him properly."

The steward didn't hesitate and rushed to the duty room to fetch him.

Chen Guanlou didn't put on airs or delay. When summoned, he came straight to the cell door, waved off the steward, and told the Liu household steward to wait outside the prison for news.

"Lord Liu has come to his senses? Will you part with 'Stepping on Snow'?"

"Chen Tou, can you give me a straight answer? Has my case progressed? What exactly did the Pingjiang Marquis say? Can you tell me?"

Chen Guanlou inwardly sighed. Officials—especially those with thunderous reputations—were sharp indeed. He'd grasped the key point from just this small hint.

From so little, he'd deduced the truth.

"I don't know what the Elder Lord said. But I won't lie—you've already guessed it. The painting is what the Elder Lord wants. Lord Liu, will you let it go?"

"Am I about to be doomed? What's the verdict? Immediate execution—or will I live?"

Chen Guanlou remained calm, silent, his gaze cool and detached.

Seeing Chen Guanlou's silence, Liu Daowen let out a wail, trembling all over, his fat cheeks twitching uncontrollably, his features twisting in terror.

"No, no! Jiang Daoren wouldn't abandon me! The Pingjiang Marquis's information must be wrong, right?"

Chen Guanlou paused, then said only, "I can help you liquidate some of your assets and hold them for you for a time."

"Confiscation!?" Liu Daowen instantly understood the implication. "There are yamen runners and soldiers guarding my household—how can you possibly remove my assets?"

"Have your steward prepare the assets you wish to sell. I'll find a way to take them. Don't ask how."

Liu Daowen gritted his teeth. "Fine. I want thirty percent of the total value."