Chapter 224

When good fortune comes, one's spirit soars.

Chen Guanlou had been smiling for days, his upturned lips impossible to suppress.

Others teased him, "If you like children so much, why not have one of your own?"

"I'm not in a hurry."

Others couldn't understand why Chen Guanlou didn't care for a woman in his bed—did he have some peculiar preference? No, that couldn't be; the boy frequented brothels every few days, his tastes were perfectly normal. Clearly, he didn't fancy homegrown flowers—he only wanted wild ones.

Hmph!

That's quite a peculiar taste.

Before he could enjoy his good fortune for long, Tianlaomiao welcomed an old acquaintance: Yu Zhaoan.

Yu Zhaoan was carried into Tianlaomiao, still within Chen Guanlou's jurisdiction, still in the same familiar cell.

His legs had been broken by the Embroidered Uniform Guard's men; whether he'd recover remained uncertain.

The incident stirred things up, so Chen Guanlou went to inquire with Niu Yucheng.

Since Fan Yucheng's promotion and Niu Yucheng's appointment, Little Fan had precisely understood his new role—he stopped handling affairs entirely, collecting money only. Daily operations of the A- and B-class cells were handed over to Chen Guanlou.

At present, Chen Guanlou held no official title as jailer, yet he performed all jailer duties.

Niu Yucheng seemed still unaccustomed to hiring a private secretary; he'd tried two or three, none met his standards. He simply gave up. Any matter, he handled himself.

When Chen Guanlou met him, they first discussed routine matters before turning to Yu Zhaoan.

"My lord, is there more to Yu Zhaoan's case? He was a prisoner of the Imperial Prison—how did he end up back in Tianlaomiao?"

"You know Yu Zhaoan's background—he suffered greatly in the Imperial Prison, his legs broken. It's said Prince Jin interceded with the Emperor on his behalf, securing his transfer back to Tianlaomiao. Another rumor claims the Jixia Academy, upon hearing his legs were broken, was enraged enough to draft a joint memorial denouncing the Embroidered Uniform Guard's abuses, but Prince Jin stopped them. Prince Jin sympathized with Yu Zhaoan's plight—so they say he even wept."

Chen Guanlou exclaimed, "If Prince Jin intervened, why not simply release Yu Zhaoan? Why force him back into Tianlaomiao?"

"Because the Emperor refused. Allowing Yu Zhaoan back into Tianlaomiao is already imperial mercy. Release? Impossible."

The Emperor hated Yu Zhaoan so deeply! No wonder court officials whispered the old Emperor was cruel, stingy, narrow-minded, and vengeful.

Yu Zhaoan had merely called the old Emperor a fool in public—and the Emperor had held that grudge ever since, refusing to relent even when the Jixia Academy pleaded for him.

This time, in the power struggle between Jiang Tu and the court, Yu Zhaoan clearly became a discarded pawn. Had he not borne the Yu surname, born into the powerful Yu clan, he wouldn't have lost just two legs—his head would've already rolled.

Hmph!

Court factional struggles were indeed bloody and ruthless. Without backing, never meddle—best to stay far from the capital.

After months of observation, Niu Yucheng had come to recognize Chen Guanlou's competence. Added to that, Chen Guanlou was exceptionally tactful—he'd presented generous gifts upon Niu's arrival, and every month since, he'd been the most diligent in submitting accounts and silver, attending to every detail. Niu had abandoned his initial plan to transfer Chen Guanlou.

He needed at least one or two capable men under him.

Xu Fugui, Zhang the jailer—those were old hands, slippery as eels. Other jailers and squad leaders were either dull, greedy, or brutal, leaving behind evidence and risks. Among them all, Chen Guanlou stood out as the most capable—and he came from a prominent Beijing clan, backed by Hou Fu.

He had no reason to cultivate new talent when capable men already stood before him.

Of course, he planned a two-step approach. At Tianlaomiao, he would keep Chen Guanlou under his control—he needed someone competent to handle tasks and ease his burdens.

Second, he decided to transfer a trusted man from his former county office to balance Chen Guanlou—like Li the secretary had been to Fan Yucheng: handle the dirty work that couldn't be done openly.

Chen Guanlou was usable, even reliable—but he was not his own man. He bore the Chen surname—the Chen of Pingjiang.

As a native of Beijing, Niu Yucheng understood far better than Fan Yucheng the weight of the Pingjiang Marquis title, and the power of Beijing's native elites.

To imagine subjugating a collateral branch of the Marquis's family—even if they were five generations removed—ha! Even a third-rank official's ambition was delusional. If they wanted backing, was the Marquis's name not strong enough? Was his rank insufficient? Why would they follow a mere jailer? Even a first-rank Grand Secretary, trying to buy loyalty from noble families, must first check if his face is large enough.

Beijing's ecosystem didn't operate on rank alone—power didn't mean you could dominate everything.

Jiang Tu enjoyed the old Emperor's favor, yet he dared not extend his hand into noble territories. The land dispute last year? Merely an accident.

The Pingjiang Marquis slapped Jiang Tu's face—look, did Jiang Tu retaliate? Did he dare? He'd already angered the civil officials; if he now angered the nobility, if he reached into noble lands, death was near.

When civil officials and nobles truly united on a matter, even the old Emperor had to weigh whether he could withstand the pressure.

Niu Yucheng had already decided: Chen Guanlou was useful and trustworthy—but confined strictly within bounds. Beyond those bounds, absolutely not. The only men he truly trusted were those who had followed him for years.

…

Only after learning the full story did Chen Guanlou go to see Yu Zhaoan.

Yu Zhaoan sat in the corner of the cell, leaning against the wall, filthy with blood and grime, his eyes long since dimmed—weak, humiliated, utterly broken. No longer the once-proud, arrogant, supremely sharp Yu, who looked down on everyone with eyes fixed on the heavens.

"Lord Yu, Old Yu—I've sent for the physician. Let him examine your wounds. Someone, open the cell. Bring two basins of hot water to wash him. Send someone to notify the Yu family—send fresh clothes, bedding, and good medicine. Don't forget to remind them: according to rules, Lord Yu must still pay silver for his detention. If they want us to treat him well, the silver mustn't be short."

Xiao Jin immediately obeyed and hurried to arrange it.

Chen Guanxin volunteered to notify the Yu family, smiling, "I'm best at collecting silver." He held up his fingers—no less than a thousand taels.

Xiao Jin countered, "Too little! With such severe injuries, he needs long-term medicine and careful care. Without two thousand taels, this won't be done. The Yu family is a great clan—speak to them properly. Even if they've abandoned Yu Zhaoan, they'll still pay this much. Otherwise, their reputation will suffer."

"Will the Yu family really abandon Yu Zhaoan?" Chen Guanxin asked, curious—he had little experience and hadn't yet grasped how cruel official struggles were, or how cold-blooded great clans could be.

Xiao Jin was a seasoned veteran, having witnessed countless human sorrows and joys within Tianlaomiao.

"It depends on whether Yu Zhaoan can recover. If he can, he's still the Yu family's pride, their key talent. If he can't, he's just 'Cripple Yu,' 'Worthless Yu'—they'll keep him fed, nothing more."

Xiao Jin's words dripped with utter cruelty.

Chen Guanxin shuddered, "It can't be that bad."

Xiao Jin snorted, "I'm being generous. Even decent families only keep a useless corpse alive. Truly cold clans? Given Yu Zhaoan's condition, he might be dead by tomorrow."