Chapter 364: The Jailor

Being exposed, Xie Changling did not feel embarrassed; instead, he appeared righteous and calm.

"You don't know the cost of firewood and rice until you run a household. Prisoner Chen has no family, eats alone and doesn't feed anyone else, so he naturally can't grasp the depth of my words. The Xie family isn't mine alone—it has hundreds of people from top to bottom, all eating, drinking, urinating, defecating every day. Prisoner Chen, you're good with numbers—calculate for me: how much does it cost per day?

Even by Tianlao's standards, how much does your prison spend daily? Our Xie family spends at least as much, if not more. Don't be fooled by our income—we spend even more. Every year at year-end settlement, we work all year for nothing: our earnings barely cover expenses, with not a single copper left over. We're forced to rely on harvests from our fields."

He stood before the prison gate, his demeanor utterly natural, his words firm and weighty. Clearly, he understood business—not some bookish fool who only read dead texts and knew nothing of economics or livelihood.

Chen Guanlou had long known the man was a genius, but he hadn't expected such a proud scholar to care about mundane daily expenses like food, firewood, and toilet needs.

The seven necessities of opening a household: firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, tea.

He used to not understand why ancient people placed firewood first. Only after arriving in this era and living in the capital did he realize: for urban commoners, the first thing they must do each day isn't figuring out where to earn money for rice—it's securing firewood. The price fluctuations of firewood stir hearts even more than those of grain.

Without firewood, you can't light a fire to cook, or boil water. Without a kitchen fire, you can't eat.

In the city, with no mountains or trees, firewood must be bought. Especially in winter: you can skip a meal, but you cannot go a day without fire. Such bitter cold will kill you without it.

Mountains have owners; firewood has a price.

The capital's consumption of firewood is no less than its consumption of grain.

According to Chen Guanlou's knowledge, the hills outside the city have nearly been stripped bare. You must go farther to find firewood. The key issue: all hills are owned—there are no unclaimed hills left in the metropolitan region.

Many wealthy households in the capital made their fortunes selling firewood, ensuring generations of food and drink.

Hou Fu has no worries about firewood—it owns its own farmland and mountain estates, vast stretches of forest. Every month, people from the mountain estate bring in wagonloads of firewood on fixed days.

Hou Fu also runs its own charcoal workshop, burning firewood charcoal, coal, all kinds of charcoal.

Chen Guanlou buys charcoal only from Hou Fu's charcoal workshop, hauling it home by the cartload. Because of his surname, he gets a ten percent discount.

The accounts don't bear close scrutiny.

Only when he calculated did he realize firewood occupied an extremely vital place in life—the annual expenditure on it was a substantial sum. This was still just for one person living alone, occasionally lighting a fire. For a household like Chunxiang's, the numbers were unthinkable.

"Fine, fine! I know you, Master Xie, are skilled in business and economics—no need to lecture me. I don't offer discounts. If you want to go out, pay full price."

Xie Changling exhaled a long breath of frustration, clearly displeased with him. He lowered his eyelids and asked, "How much remains in my account?"

"Less than a hundred taels."

Xie Changling frowned slightly. "How could there be so little left?"

Chen Guanlou immediately ordered a nearby jailer, "Go find Qian Fugui and bring me Master Xie's personal account book."

The prisoner's personal account was Chen Guanlou's invention—a small improvement that boosted efficiency.

Ever since he introduced meal packages, the accompanying personal accounts naturally followed.

Every prisoner's extra payments beyond their basic fee are recorded in their personal account: what was spent, when, each entry logged. Open the book, everything is clear. Transparent and public.

This measure was warmly welcomed by all imprisoned officials in the Jia-sized cells. Previously, money paid was spent without explanation; after a while, jailers would say the funds were gone, with no clarity on how it was spent.

Now, with personal accounts, every tael spent can be traced.

Soon, Qian Fugui arrived running with a thick ledger.

"My lord!"

"Find Master Xie's account and show it to him."

Chen Guanlou ordered.

Qian Fugui licked his finger and flipped through the ledger. "Xie Changling, Xie Changling… Master Xie entered prison early this year. Ah, here it is. Master Xie, please review!"

Qian Fugui held the account page up to the prison gate. "Master Xie, see clearly? Every expense from the day you entered until today is recorded—no omissions, no falsified entries. All are real expenditures. Look: your bathing fees last week, your wine and meat last month, your premium Xuan paper, your fine ink and brush…"

He hadn't realized.

Seeing the account, Xie Changling realized he'd quietly spent so much silver on so many things. Of course, the main reason he spent so fast was that Tianlao's prices operated on a completely different scale from those in the capital.

Seeing his balance had dropped to just over eighty taels, his eyelid twitched twice.

He clenched his lips, face grim, lost in thought—perhaps reflecting on why he'd spent so much.

Qian Fugui kept talking nonstop. "Master Xie, did you see clearly? Any questions? Any errors? Rest assured, under Elder Chen's wise leadership, our Jia-sized cells have reformed past practices—fair to all, accounts crystal clear, satisfying both prisoners and jailers. If you have no questions, I'll take the ledger back. I'm swamped every day—the more prisoners, the busier I get."

Xie Changling grunted and waved him off.

Qian Fugui then sought Chen Guanlou's approval.

Chen Guanlou nodded, and Qian Fugui left with the ledger.

"Master Xie, any other questions? Still want to go out? Tianlao does not extend credit," Chen Guanlou stated the rules clearly.

This was a seller's market—credit didn't exist.

Xie Changling wiped his face. "Your Tianlao's prices are outrageous! Unbelievably exploitative!"

Chen Guanlou had never been good at complaining before.

Since becoming a jailer, he'd mastered the skill naturally: "We're forced into this! You're an official—you know well that most of the money we collect must be handed over. We keep only scraps. The Ministry of Justice constantly delays our salaries and grain rations.

The hundreds of people in Tianlao eat and drink thanks to this money. Do you think it's easy? Master Xie, the fact that you imprisoned officials get two meals a day on schedule? That's thanks to the hard work of the very jailers you call heartless. Without us collecting every copper, you'd all starve."

"Nonsense!" Xie Changling snapped.

Chen Guanlou chuckled. "Whether it's nonsense or not, we both know the truth. Similar situations exist in every yamen. What keeps the Five City Military Command running? Do you really think they rely on imperial salaries? They extort merchants, demand contributions—only then can the yamen function. What sustains the Ministry of Justice? Our Tianlao's contributions. Otherwise, with the Ministry of Revenue's state—chronic deficits, unable even to pay salaries to officials in the capital—relying on them for food would mean everyone starves."