Chapter 207: Been Outmaneuvered

What is there in Jinzhou?

Besides rebels, barbarians, and corrupt officials, Jinzhou has one heavyweight figure: Prince Cheng.

The Prince Cheng's mansion stood in Jinzhou's prefectural capital; even during the fiercest rebel uprisings, the mansion still lived in wine pools and meat forests, drunk and dreaming.

When rebels stormed the prefectural capital, the Prince Cheng's mansion, relying on its own guards and gathered remnants of defeated troops, held out against the rebels for five full days until reinforcements arrived.

The previous Prince Cheng was the old emperor's brother; this generation's Prince Cheng is the old emperor's own nephew.

There is an unverifiable rumor that the throne originally belonged to Prince Cheng. The old emperor used underhanded schemes, pulling off a grand move at the time of the late emperor's death, seizing Prince Cheng's throne.

This rumor had considerable traction in earlier years. But as the old emperor solidified his throne and proved himself wise and mighty, such claims gradually faded.

In recent years, as the old emperor grew older and more senile, this rumor has been revived and gained new traction.

In the capital, the Embroidered Uniform Guard looms like a great mountain; matters concerning imperial privacy are handled with restraint by common folk, who dare not openly chatter in streets and alleys.

But beyond the capital, especially in places farther from it, such rumors gain more ground. Everyone has a taste for gossip, especially imperial gossip—people freely blab, and the authorities won't bother to stop them.

The place where this rumor spread most fiercely was Jinzhou.

Yet, Jinzhou's rebel uprisings had buried the Prince Cheng's mansion gossip.

Court officials had all heard these rumors—even versions far more detailed than the street tales.

For instance: on the night the late emperor died, the previous Prince Cheng was deceived by the old emperor and failed to reach the palace in time. By the time he realized what had happened, the old emperor had already seized control of the entire capital; the situation was settled. Prince Cheng, powerless and unable to muster the will to rebel, fell behind at every turn, made one mistake after another, until the throne ultimately passed into the old emperor's hands. Years later, even his military power was stripped away by the old emperor. Heartbroken, he went to Jinzhou as a vassal prince and died young from overwhelming grief.

Liu Daowen eliminated every other possibility; no matter how implausible, everything pointed solely to the Prince Cheng's mansion.

He trembled with fear, his heart racing, feeling as if he stood on the brink of death.

Why had the Prince Cheng's mansion contacted him?

He was a notorious corrupt official, now imprisoned, counting his days, soon to be beheaded by superiors.

His only remaining value was money—vast, vast sums.

Liu Daowen involuntarily swallowed, his throat tight and dry, lips cracked, mouth afire. No one knew how much money he had, not even his closest steward.

No one knew exactly where his money was hidden; the steward knew only part of the truth. The wealth within his mansion was merely a small fraction of what he had embezzled over the years.

Backed by Jiangtu and serving in the Construction Bureau, every project that passed through his hands he siphoned off. Even projects that didn't pass through him, he still took kickbacks. All sorts of people showered him with gifts and bribes, especially those out-of-town merchants without connections, who spent lavishly.

So much money—he hadn't even had time to enjoy it, and now he was to lose his head. He couldn't accept it.

He had already resigned himself to death, not for himself, but for his elderly mother, wife, children, and family.

Now, a single note had stirred up the suppressed resentment once more.

Resentment!

He didn't want to die!

If Prince Cheng offered him a chance, should he seize it?

Liu Daowen fell unusually silent, saying nothing.

The jailer reported to Chen Guanlou, who said: "His current state is normal. He can't accept it all at once. Let him think it over. Don't disturb him. If he makes any requests, as long as they're not unreasonable, fulfill them as much as possible."

After all, he was a major patron who gave five thousand taels. Let's part amicably, see him off in peace.

After work, Chen Guanlou changed his appearance, picked up the goods, changed back to his true form, and went to the Hou Fu to deliver them.

He entered through the back gate, was announced, and was smoothly admitted to see the Master.

Again in the study, the Master was surrounded by three or four scholar guests, helping him authenticate the goods Chen Guanlou brought. Besides the solid gold Buddha, he had brought all the other antiques and paintings, including the famous painting "Stepping on Snow."

"Master, what about this painting?" one guest pointed to a painting of a lady among plum blossoms and whispered.

"What's the issue?"

"The painting itself is fine—genuinely by the late dynasty court painter Liang Jushi. But look at these seals, Master—this one, and this one… If they're not forgeries, then the painting's origin…" The guest left the rest unsaid; those who understand, understand.

Chen Guanlou didn't understand.

Before coming, he had only done a cursory check to ensure the goods were intact and undamaged. He hadn't studied the seals at all—he didn't know the difference between real and fake.

Hearing the guest's words, he awkwardly leaned in, staring at the seals, but couldn't spot anything wrong.

So he blurted out: "What's wrong? Are the seals fake?"

Having come and gone from the Hou Fu several times and dealt with the Master a few times, he'd grown bolder, no longer as timid as his first visit—he acted like he belonged.

He didn't see himself as a subordinate, but as a merchant in a transaction.

Business is business—give and take, fair exchange.

"No, these two seals are ones no one in the world would dare forge."

"Why?" Chen Guanlou was intensely curious.

The guest first glanced at the Master. Seeing no objection, he explained to Chen Guanlou: "This seal was the Crown Prince's personal seal, used frequently in recent years. This other one belongs to His Majesty. The Emperor once favored this seal for a period. You might still find it on old memorials. This seal of His Majesty's has been sealed for nearly thirty years—yet here it is, on this painting of a lady among plum blossoms."

"Ah!"

Chen Guanlou let out a startled cry—he was truly shocked.

Damn!

Liu's steward had taken advantage of Chen Guanlou's ignorance of antiques and paintings, hiding this inside the goods—a clever move to shift blame. Once the Liu household was seized, and this painting was found with these seals, Liu Daowen's theft of the imperial collection could no longer be hidden.

Then it wouldn't just be one man's head that fell.

From the palace to the Ministry of Treasury to the palace guards—everyone would be implicated. Hundreds of heads might roll. It would be a sea of severed heads.

Liu's steward knew this painting was a curse, took advantage of Chen Guanlou's ignorance, and gambled that the Pingjiang Marquis might have the power to absorb it, so he secretly slipped it into the shipment.

Master Du's knowledge was limited—he'd never encountered antiques bearing the Emperor's or Crown Prince's seals, and he too had been fooled.

Chen Guanlou's face flushed red—he'd been fooled, thoroughly outmaneuvered.

He immediately said: "I'm going back to return the goods."

"No rush."

The Master remained calm, unruffled—as if this matter were as ordinary as eating or drinking.

The Master spoke: "It's just one painting. No need to panic."

Was it truly just a trifle?

Chen Guanlou, apologetic and secretly regretful, whispered: "You're sure we don't need to return it?"