Chapter 34: A Fool

This month I’m on night watch.

Chen Guanlou wiped oil from his lips, strolling lazily into the Tianlaomiao.

Lu Datou waved at him from a corner.

Chen Guanlou glanced around, then walked toward him.

Lu Datou grabbed him and dragged him into a secluded corner.

“Got any money?”

Chen Guanlou sniffed the sour stench clinging to the man—his clothes reeked even in winter, clearly from a night of debauchery.

He looked at the bloodshot eyes and asked, “Gambling all night? All day and night? How much did you lose?”

“Fuck, my luck’s been terrible lately—lost it all.”

“Lost it all? You just got paid—over ten taels of silver, and you lost it all?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll win it back. I just had bad luck. I was winning at first—then that new kid showed up and fucked me over completely.”

Chen Guanlou silently unslung his money pouch. He’d planned to lend ten taels, but after thinking, he took out only five.

“This is my wife’s dowry—don’t you dare lose it again. Gamble less.”

“Thanks, brother. This time I’ll definitely win it back.”

“You’re going back to the gambling den?” Chen Guanlou asked, unable to resist.

Lu Datou shook his head. “This time I’m going to settle the score with Zhang Wantong. I’ve already lined up the guys in Jia-1 and Jia-2 cells—they’ve got a game tonight. You coming?”

Chen Guanlou shook his head vigorously—he’d sworn off gambling and drugs for life.

He tried to reason: “The jailbreak case isn’t closed. The higher-ups could inspect at any moment. Opening a game now—aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”

These veteran prison guards truly had no fear.

The jailbreak case was still unresolved, and no orders had come down yet. After ten or twenty days of quiet, they’d started gambling again.

They couldn’t go a single day without it.

If caught red-handed, they’d be done for.

“Don’t worry—it won’t happen. No one comes to the Tianlaomiao at night. Besides, tonight’s game’s hosted by Jia-1 and Jia-2—they won’t come after us.”

Lu Datou looked utterly confident, just like every gambler—unshakable in his delusion, convinced he was fate’s chosen one, a gambling god incarnate, blessed with fortune.

“I’m going to sleep now—I’ll be up all night. If anything comes up, send someone to Jia-1 and Jia-2 to find me. Alright, go on, get to work.”

With silver in hand, Lu Datou regained his confidence. He slipped off to the office to nap, conserving energy for tonight’s game.

Chen Guanlou shook his head—never expect a gambler to reform. Quitting gambling? Impossible. Not in this lifetime.

These veteran prison guards were thoroughly corrupt, utterly without morals.

The five taels he’d lent? Gone like water spilled—no hope of repayment.

Entering the Tianlaomiao, he found half the guards missing from the watchroom.

The full-crew appearance had been a fleeting illusion, just to appease the higher-ups. Once time passed, everyone relaxed, ignoring the inspections entirely.

The escapees were ruthless bandits; the dead were prisoners—what did it matter to them? Everyone clung to hope.

Chen Guanlou was an oddity among the guards—he didn’t gamble, didn’t join their corruption. He never snitched, never cut off others’ income, never nagged them to quit gambling.

Though some disliked him, he’d treated them to drinks several times and even joined them in visiting brothels, so no one bothered him—mostly they just ignored him, or dumped the cell patrols on him.

Chen Guanlou liked patrolling the cells—he preferred doing it alone. He never volunteered for unpleasant tasks, but never refused them either. Occasionally he’d grumble, just to seem like an ordinary guard.

He couldn’t go patrolling with obvious enthusiasm—that’d look suspicious.

The prisoners were a treasure trove—he was happy to take over patrols for others.

While Jia-1 and Jia-2 held their high-stakes game, Bing-1 and Bing-2 weren’t idle. The guards left in the watchroom couldn’t afford Jia’s big stakes, but they didn’t mind small bets—ten cash per hand, everyone buzzing with excitement.

Chen Guanlou found the watchroom too noisy, so he picked up his staff and started patrolling early.

“Little Chen, keep an eye on Cell 40—that kid’s up to no good. Tomorrow we’ll beat him for cash.”

“What did Cell 40 do?”

“Some backwater minor clan, thinks he’s hot shit, comes to the capital acting big—deserves to be arrested. Once he’s in our hands, we’ll beat some sense into him—he’ll learn to mind his manners after he’s out, won’t risk offending nobles and losing his life. Little Chen, we’re doing him a favor, teaching him how to behave—and collecting tuition, you get it!”

“Got it!”

Chen Guanlou said nothing, picked up his staff, and began his patrol.

Passing Cell 13, he glanced at the empty cell. If the prisoner there really was a Hidden Vein, he was hiding well.

Pretending to be a Hidden Vein was still possible—if his martial skill was high enough, and he had disguise techniques, he could easily fool them.

Choose the lesser of two evils.

He’d rather pretend to be a Hidden Vein than reveal his possession of the Longevity Dao Fruit.

A Hidden Vein only means death.

The Longevity Dao Fruit? Even death wouldn’t save him.

Arriving at Cell 40, he saw a typical spoiled brat from the provinces, still oblivious to how dire his situation was.

He rapped his staff against the cell bars. “What did you do?”

“They’re framing me for theft! That treasure’s mine—why accuse me?”

“Because you’ve got treasure and no protection. Speak up—what treasure?”

“A glass cup. For gifting.”

The gift never reached its recipient—he ended up in the Tianlaomiao.

Chen Guanlou frowned at the foolish nobleman inside. “Where are your elders? Let you come to the capital alone?”

“I… I ran away.”

Serves you right.

Chen Guanlou chuckled coldly—no wonder he’d been targeted and thrown in.

This fool deserved to be fleeced.

He offered a genuinely kind warning: “You’re lucky you’re in the Tianlaomiao, not sold off to a mine as a slave. Here, you’ll just get beaten—hand over your money, and you walk out alive. In the mines? You’ll never walk out.”

“You’re going to torture me? I didn’t do anything!”

Chen Guanlou’s face turned grim. He banged his staff against the bars, looking like a demon. “Yelling won’t help. If you’ve got money, don’t wait for the torture—hand it over now for your safety. Do you know anyone in the capital? Send word to your family or friends—they can pay to get you out.”

“I have friends! They’re rich! Really rich! My lord, please help me—I don’t want to be beaten, I don’t want to die in the Tianlaomiao, waaah…”