Chapter 206: Paper Slip Transmission

Chen Guanlou followed the original plan, took a cold shower to wash off the stench of sweat, changed into clean clothes, bought meat at the street corner, and fetched two flasks of wine before strolling over to Du Fuzi's house.

He took the Liu family's goods, but did not store them at home.

He didn't want to attract thieves, and could not expose his undercover identity.

The fact that his home had been ransacked reminded him that Jingcheng was full of hidden tigers and dragons, and the streets had grown unsteady lately—he needed to be far more cautious than before.

Du Fuzi was currently busy grading students' essays, his head spinning and eyes blurred, seething with rage.

Seeing Chen Guanlou, he felt as if he'd spotted a savior: "You come at last—take over grading the rest of these essays. If I have to read another line of this nonsense, I'll die right here from anger."

"Why take it so seriously? They're all ignorant fools—just give them passing grades."

"That won't do. Second Master sent word: next month he'll inspect the private school and examine the students' progress. If I'm not strict, I won't pass Second Master's scrutiny."

"Second Master is just looking for trouble."

"Don't say that. Inspecting the school is about taking responsibility for the younger generation of the Chen clan. But those boys are too unruly, and my abilities are limited—I can't control them."

"The ruler isn't just for show—whomever disobeys, beat them!" Chen Guanlou's solution was simple and brutal.

Du Fuzi's beard trembled. "Last time we nearly caused a disaster—I don't want to go through that again."

Chen Guanlou shook his head repeatedly, strongly disagreeing. "I studied in the clan's private school too—I know exactly how it is. Let me tell you plainly: if you don't beat them, you're weak. Give two of them a hard lash, and they'll learn fear. They fear authority, not virtue. Without some real cruelty, none of them will know right from wrong."

"What if I injure someone? I'll suffer along with them. Forget it, forget it—this salary isn't worth dying for." Du Fuzi was remarkably laid-back and refused outright to adopt Chen Guanlou's method.

Chen Guanlou sighed helplessly—he'd offered a solution, but the man wouldn't take it.

He randomly picked up an essay and burst into loud laughter.

"How can you laugh at such nonsense?" Du Fuzi didn't understand.

Chen Guanlou waved his hand. "You don't get it, Master."

"I truly don't. Did you come here today because something's come to light?"

Chen Guanlou nodded. "The goods are in hand. When can I deliver them to First Master? Arrange a time for me."

"First Master said the goods can be delivered anytime—he's always at home and never goes out."

That was true.

First Master was a seasoned homebody of this era, confined indoors due to his lame leg. Any social engagements were handled by his steward or Second Master.

He stayed indoors indulging in refined tastes and elegant pleasures—gold, silver, beautiful women—living a life of pure comfort.

And his "homebody" lifestyle wasn't like the modern kind. Modern youths holed up in a hundred-square-meter apartment, taking fewer than a hundred steps a day.

First Master's "homebody" life meant staying within a mansion spanning over a hundred mu—his daily steps rivaled those of a daily commuter.

The joys of the rich!

"Then tomorrow. No point in waiting—after my shift ends, I'll go straight to petition First Master."

"Remember to use the back gate," Du Fuzi muttered. "No need to inspect the goods?"

"No. Is the gatekeeper at the back gate one of First Master's men?"

"He's First Master's own."

There was a subtle difference.

"First Master values loyalty—he always finds positions for his personal guards who are injured or disabled. The old woman guarding the back gate is the wife of one such disabled guard; she takes orders only from First Master—no one else can command her."

"Didn't Second Master ever try to remove her?"

"First Master isn't dead yet—how could Second Master possibly oust her? The Hou Fu still belongs to First Master—he's the rightful heir, the imperial marquis. If the old matriarch weren't still alive, Second Master would've been expelled long ago."

Chen Guanlou nodded knowingly—he understood.

He ate and drank at Du Fuzi's, then returned home. On the way, he noticed no one following him.

Strange indeed!

Had he left traces when retrieving the goods, and someone tracked him?

That made no sense!

At night, he pretended to sleep—but didn't.

He wanted to see if anything stirred after dark.

He stayed awake all night, still full of energy—he was a cultivator, after all. But not a single sound came all night—only a few stray cats, not even a petty thief.

Impossible to figure out!

He went to work as usual, patrolled the prison as usual.

Liu Daowen looked listless—his beard had grown longer overnight, making him appear utterly broken. (Ignore his plump, white belly.)

When he saw Chen Guanlou, Liu Daowen barely glanced up, then lowered his head again. Clearly, Chen Guanlou's words from yesterday had sunk in—he realized all resistance was futile and would only drag his family down.

He could abandon his wife and children—he could always remarry and have more sons. As long as he lived, a wife and sons would come again.

But he couldn't abandon his elderly mother, couldn't bear to implicate the hundred-plus members of the Liu clan, couldn't bear to drag his uncles and cousins into this.

He was certain: if he escaped today, tomorrow the Liu clan would be exterminated in three generations.

The Tianlao prison wasn't heavily guarded—cultivators with martial veins could easily escape, facing only jailers skilled in street fighting.

Yet over the years, no convicted official had ever broken out. Why?

Because the realm was peaceful, the court's authority absolute, the laws harsh, and imperial power supreme—unquestionable.

One man escaping was easy; a family escaping was hard; an entire clan escaping was nearly impossible.

And even if they escaped, where could they go?

The world was vast, but the Great Gan Dynasty was its center—surrounding lands were barbarian. How could a citizen of the Celestial Court flee to barbarians? That was civilization's fall into savagery. Better to die alone and save the whole family than to live in degraded shame.

He gave up.

Let him die.

He should've accepted this fate the moment he first embezzled.

At noon, there was white rice and meat buns—truly generous.

The jailer gave him two meat buns, piled rice with two kinds of greens, and two slices of meat on top.

Eat like this every day without moving—no wonder he got fat.

Other officials paid less, so their meals varied wildly depending on the kitchen master's mood. He paid well—his meals were always top-tier.

He chewed the meat bun mechanically, then suddenly froze, glanced around, slipped to the deepest corner of his cell, and quietly pulled out a foreign object from his mouth.

A slip of paper!

Written on it: Jinzhou.

After reading it, he swallowed the paper whole and went back to mechanically eating his meal.

Who delivered the note?

Why give it to him?

What did "Jinzhou" mean?

His mind exploded like gunpowder—buzzing, chaotic, a storm of confusion.