Chapter 346: A Bunch of Paupers

"I didn't say I wouldn't lend." Ye Young Master said softly.

Chen Guanlou extended his hand. "Hand over the money."

"But I never said I would lend either!" Ye Young Master protested, seemingly aware of his own hypocrisy, his expression flickering with guilt.

Chen Guanlou crossed his arms and stared coldly at the other. "May I ask, Ye Young Master—are you lending or not? Give me a clear answer."

Ye Young Master clenched his teeth, visibly embarrassed, his face shifting through a dozen expressions. He waved off his driver, confirmed no one else was nearby, then said, "I don't have that much. He asked for a thousand taels—I don't have it."

Oh!

So he's just a rich-looking pauper.

Chen Guanlou understood.

These young lords all look grand and imposing, but their cash flow is pitifully thin. Definitely not as good as Chen Guanlou's.

"How much do you have?" Chen Guanlou showed no hint of contempt. Not having money isn't shameful—young people all go through this.

Ye Young Master was too embarrassed to speak, feeling humiliated, but he admitted: "I have about a hundred taels." That's why he declined his colleague's banquet invitation—he feared he couldn't repay it.

This hundred taels was his last reserve, meant only to maintain appearances—he dared not touch it lightly.

Chen Guanlou stared at him again and again, his mind brimming with unspoken complaints. After a pause, he asked the soul-question: "Exactly a hundred taels—or a hundred and something?"

Ye Young Master thought, since I'm already humiliated, what's the point of hiding it: "Actually, it's not even a hundred. Only fifty-nine taels."

Chen Guanlou's lip twitched: Ye Young Master's greatest talent is clearly rounding up.

Can't you borrow from someone else to make up a thousand taels?

"Can I borrow from you? I heard you're rich." Ye Young Master seemed to have unlocked his shameless skill, climbing the pole immediately.

Chen Guanlou laughed bitterly. "I'm broke."

"I'm broke too. This money's for appearances." Ye Young Master spread his hands. "Please tell Wenfu—it's not that I refuse to help, it's just that even a clever housewife can't cook without rice. When I have money, I'll visit him."

Chen Guanlou felt deeply frustrated. "Can't you borrow from someone else? You've got so many friends."

"My friends are even poorer than I am—how could they have more money?"

"Aren't you carrying anything valuable?"

"No way. Anything valuable belongs to Hou Fu—not me. How could I sell Hou Fu's property for cash? What would people say about me? If anyone found out, they'd gossip. I don't care if I lose face—but if I drag my cousin down with me, that's a grave sin."

In short, Ye Young Master's only point was: no money.

Chen Guanlou gritted his teeth and walked away decisively.

Zhang Wenfu, this young lord, had wasted all these years—couldn't even find one wealthy friend.

If you're broke, find a rich second-generation, pull him into your circle, and you've got your own ATM. Basic move. He refuses. He insists on acting aloof, looking down on everyone, and for years, he never secured a single wallet. What a failure.

The mindset of these second-generation heirs is simply incomprehensible.

Dying for face, living in misery.

No wonder these young heirs avoid gambling dens and instead obsess over poetry gatherings and literary meetings. Venues are free, wine comes from their own cellars, maids and servants are from home, snacks are made by the family cook—no cost at all to host these events. Elegant, respectable, both face and substance preserved, without touching their private funds.

In a way, it's frugal—good at managing household finances.

Xiao Jin's results were the same—he held a stack of IOUs but hadn't borrowed a single copper coin.

The next morning, Chen Guanlou returned all the IOUs to Zhang Wenfu. "A bunch of paupers!"

Zhang Wenfu: …

How can you insult people?

He clutched the IOUs, equally desperate. "Not a single copper?"

"All of them are broke. What kind of friends did you make? For all these years, you never made one or two wealthy buddies?"

"Money is vulgar! Those rich bastards aren't worthy to be my friends." Zhang Wenfu spoke with lofty disdain.

Chen Guanlou's teeth ached—ached terribly.

He clicked his tongue. "If you hate money so much, then don't go spreading the word!"

Zhang Wenfu's face collapsed. "I never thought I'd end up in the Heavenly Prison."

"I recall one of your charges was embezzlement. Where's the money you stole? Didn't you save any private stash?"

"Spent it!"

Young lords never worried about money—they spent whatever they had. Beijing had too many ways to spend, earning was hard, spending easy. Money flowed out like water. When urgent cash was needed, they'd rummage around and maybe find a few taels of loose silver.

Chen Guanlou privately sneered—he'd thought this time he'd make a profit. Turns out, he'd overestimated. He'd better rely on those seasoned court veterans—they may be cunning, but they truly have money. There's a difference between managing a household and not managing one—a chasm as vast as heaven and earth.

Without money, Zhang Wenfu's wish to be released could only be postponed indefinitely.

He proposed borrowing—Chen Guanlou ignored him entirely. With this character, he dares to seek loans from moneylenders? Hmph!

Chen Guanlou loved money, but he had principles—he'd never harm others. Unless they tried to harm him first.

So he refused Zhang Wenfu's borrowing request. Though he despised the man, he had no intention of pushing him into the fire.

Endure it.

Zhang Wenfu kept screaming every day, enduring his fate.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard next door arrested several more officials from Donggong. These men had already been demoted and exiled to idle posts—but even that didn't save them. They were still dragged in for tea.

When the news reached Xie Changling, he fell into long silence.

He sat like a statue, utterly motionless.

Chen Guanlou grew concerned. "Master Xie, don't think of doing anything foolish. Everyone has their own fate—just take care of yourself."

Xie Changling's eyes were like vast oceans—deep, impenetrable. "You fear I'll kill myself?"

"You Donggong officials are under close watch. If you die, it'll cause trouble." Chen Guanlou spoke plainly—to a clever man, there's no need to hide anything.

Xie Changling gave a cold, humorless laugh, his inner rage and hatred boiling beneath. "Chen Jailer, rest assured—I won't do anything foolish. Tell me, has Yu Zhaoan returned to the capital?"

"Just arrived. Not yet officially appointed."

Yu Zhaoan's imminent appointment as Right Chancellor had spread across the land—even the prisoners in the Heavenly Prison knew.

"A Chancellor at last—youngest ever…" Xie Changling slowly closed his eyes. Moments later, he snapped them open. "Chen Jailer, could you deliver a letter to Master Yu for me?"

Chen Guanlou waved him off. "That's inappropriate."

"Why do you shut me out so coldly?"

Chen Guanlou rolled his eyes to the ceiling, sneering. "Yu Zhaoan and you are the same kind of people. I don't want to be stuck in the middle as your messenger—only to get betrayed one day without knowing why. You two? Your hearts are black."