Chapter 21: Qian Cai Blinds the Eyes

Master Kongkong heeded the advice, handed over his hidden stash of Qian Cai, and avoided bodily punishment.

The other prisoners weren’t so lucky.

Soon, the entire Bingzi-sized prison echoed with screams.

Xu Fugui pocketed the silver, and the jailers seized the chance to make a fortune too; everyone was satisfied, and the earlier resentment faded.

Xu Fugui used his money to cultivate ties with Fan Yucheng, and the effect was clear—the next day, he wore a smile on his face.

He even patted Chen Guanlou on the shoulder and praised him: “Good job. Keep it up—I’ll make you a squad leader someday.”

“Uncle Xu, rest assured—I’ll work hard and never bring shame to you.”

The struggle between Hou Fu and Jiang Tu seemed to be making progress.

The case finally reached the Emperor’s ears; the Censorate officers, holding back their fury, launched a coordinated attack, accusing Jiang Tu of competing with the people for profit, treating human lives as grass, corruption and lawlessness, corrupting the court’s discipline, and secretly harboring grand ambitions.

Other charges were commonplace—every official was guilty of competing with the people for profit and corruption. But the fatal one was the last: secretly harboring grand ambitions. Someone had come up with this clever trick—not whether it could be proven mattered, but whether it planted a seed of suspicion in the Emperor’s mind.

Jiang Tu had risen to power solely through the Emperor’s favor. Lose that favor, and he’d be worse than a dog. A lowborn nobody with no lineage or backing, who’d stumbled into imperial favor and soared to the top—destroying him required only one thing: shatter his image in the Emperor’s eyes. In an instant, everything would collapse, dragging him into the dust, even below his original state.

Impeachment memorials flew into the palace like snowflakes—but the Emperor kept them all sealed, neither endorsing nor stopping the censors. So the Censorate escalated, and other officials—even local magistrates—joined in.

Suddenly, Jiang Tu was surrounded by enemies, with everyone crying out for his downfall.

Watching this, Chen Guanlou muttered, “Too much, too much—it’s backfired.”

Lu Datou didn’t understand, puzzled: “How’s it too much? The whole court’s impeaching Jiang Tu—he’s about to fall. Why are you taking the opposite side?”

Chen Guanlou snorted. “The censors accused Jiang Tu of secretly harboring grand ambitions—and now the entire court is joining in. Doesn’t that prove he’s innocent? That’s why I say it’s backfired. To truly nail Jiang Tu for secretly harboring grand ambitions, the impeachment must be restrained, and you need a large number of officials to publicly defend him. Right now, everyone’s screaming for his blood—it’ll only make the Emperor trust him more, convinced someone’s framing him. One misstep, and Hou Fu may lose this round.”

Lu Datou looked at Chen Guanlou as if seeing him for the first time, studying him deeply. “Not bad—I never knew you understood court politics. I underestimated you. But this doesn’t concern us. No matter how high up they fight, the Tianlaomiao stays the same. Still—you’re surnamed Chen too. If Hou Fu loses, won’t it affect you?”

“I’ve been out of the five-degree kinship with Hou Fu long ago—even if they executed three generations, I wouldn’t be touched.” Chen Guanlou grumbled. Execution wouldn’t reach him, nor would fortune. Wealth and responsibility went hand in hand.

Chen Guanlou thought Hou Fu was about to lose and prepared for collateral damage. But the situation shifted again. Just as officials screamed for Jiang Tu’s downfall, a brave soul stepped forward to defend him.

One became two, then many—more defenders appeared, higher in rank, until even Imperial Princes joined in.

The situation, once favorable to Jiang Tu, flipped again in an instant.

The Princes’ involvement turned this mere verbal battle into something dark and conspiratorial, like a storm gathering before the wind.

The Emperor appeared furious. One afternoon after his nap, in front of several ministers, he scolded several Princes—never mentioning Jiang Tu by name, yet every word pointed squarely at him.

The palace was as porous as a sieve—any news from within spread quickly.

Chen Guanlou was confused, bewildered. Hou Fu had a clever mind after all—they’d thought of the same move and reversed the situation in an instant. Jiang Tu was in grave danger. This round, Hou Fu might win.

Lu Datou grinned broadly. “I told you—Jiang Tu’s a petty man, he can’t win every time. This time he’s finally going down. When the gangsters get dragged in, we’ll use the full torture rack—I’ll personally crack a whip, finally vent this frustration. Hey, why that face? Hou Fu’s winning—you should be happy! After all, you’re surnamed Chen too.”

“I’m not unhappy. I’m wondering why Hou Fu played such a reckless move earlier—nearly letting Jiang Tu win. Too risky!” Chen Guanlou couldn’t fathom it—who was so arrogant they’d risk this? What if the Emperor had been even slightly impulsive and declared his stance early? Hou Fu would’ve been finished.

Lu Datou cleared his throat. “Why do you care so much? You’re not Hou Fu’s man. Maybe they’ve got deeper reasons.”

Chen Guanlou chuckled. “I can’t see any deeper reason—only arrogance and self-delusion. Maybe I lack enough information to grasp the full picture, so I can’t judge accurately.”

“That’s the right mindset. We’re just jailers. Do our duty, collect our silver, eat meat and drink wine—don’t bother with the rest.”

“You’re right, Big Head—I was overthinking.”

“Thinking’s fine, just don’t let it interfere with your duties.”

Because Jiang Tu’s position was precarious, the Ministry of Justice arrested a Wu landowner.

The Tianlaomiao was stirring too. Led by Zhang Wantong, a group of jailers clamored to torture the gangsters, extract money first—before the Liùshànmén constables intervened and took it all.

Xu Fugui was tempted.

Chen Guanlou privately urged Xu Fugui: never let greed cloud your judgment.

“The situation seems clear, but no final verdict has come—the Emperor hasn’t spoken. As long as he trusts Jiang Tu, Jiang Tu won’t fall. Rushing to extract money now—if Jiang Tu turns the tide and investigates later, Uncle Xu and every jailer in Bingzi-sized prison will be doomed. You might lose your heads. For safety’s sake, I think we should maintain the status quo.”

Xu Fugui hesitated, torn.

He asked, “Do you really think Jiang Tu still has a chance to turn things around?”

Chen Guanlou didn’t answer, but asked back: “Who in the court understands the Emperor’s mind better than Jiang Tu? Who knows better how to please him?”

The nickname “Jiang Imperial Consort” wasn’t given lightly.

As a favorite risen through flattery, Jiang Tu was unmatched.