Chapter 383: He Was Handsomer Than Pan An

Chen Guanlou secretly rolled his eyes.

After all these years, there are still people who won't give up pushing him to improve.

Improve what?

In my last life, I was pushing myself until death—so exhausted I was worse than an animal. This life, I'm determined to live differently.

He was satisfied with his current life. If he had to find a flaw, it was just that his work environment was slightly harsh—no internet, no happy fat-boy drinks.

The head steward, seeing his unyielding attitude, grew furious.

"As a Chen family son, you ought to build merit and glory for the Chen family."

"The Chen family doesn't lack people who build merit and glory—I'm expendable. Master Steward, stop worrying about me. If you truly want to reward me, just give me some money and send me off. I have no other ambition—I love money."

"The Master will never abandon any talent."

Chen Guanlou smirked, saying nothing.

The head steward snorted, "No matter what I say, you won't listen. Fine, fine—wait until the Master returns to discuss this further."

Though he said so, the head steward still fulfilled his request, giving him a sum of money—a generous reward. Chen Guanlou was thoroughly satisfied. The work wasn't tiring, the pay was high; if the Hou Fu needed him again, he'd gladly accept.

After taking the money, he casually grabbed half a pound of good tea and a basket of pastries, then went to Du Fuzi's house to share a meal.

Du Fuzi loved to eat.

In his youth, he cared about appearances—even his favorite treats, he'd eat only one or two bites as a formality. Now that he was old, he'd learned to indulge; once he found something he liked, he couldn't stop eating.

Chen Guanlou urged him to eat less: "Eating too much is bad for your health, especially sweets—they'll give you xiao ke zheng."

Du Fuzi paid no attention.

"I've wasted half my life; one foot's already in the coffin. If I can't eat this or that, always holding back, what's the point of living? I've come to terms with it now. While my body's still strong, I eat what I want, drink what I want, no regrets. Life is short—if you worry too much, care too much, your heart grows weary. It's meaningless."

Chen Guanlou was surprised. Curious, he asked: "Master, did you read some book that gave you this epiphany?"

"No! Books don't bring epiphanies—but other people's lives can. I just heard that an old childhood friend died. Several of my schoolmates have already passed away—all of them wasted half their lives, constantly busy, never pausing. At the end, they never even got to taste good food. So I wondered: what's the point of living? Then I thought of you."

"Thought of me? Why me?" Chen Guanlou was stunned—he had nothing worth remembering. He was just an ordinary man, doing an ordinary job. Aside from being more handsome than Pan An and constantly attracting women who wanted to throw themselves at him, his life was utterly unremarkable. He couldn't compare to court officials like Yu Zhaoan—still young, yet with a legendary life story, enough to write several autobiographies.

"To everyone, you're a heretic. Barely a scholar, yet you chose to become a jailer—not just disgraceful, but lowly. You've reached an age to marry and have children, yet you refuse. All your money goes into brothels—you're the finest customer they've ever had. Every step you take defies societal norms. Your views, your ideas—bluntly put—are rebellious."

"But I've seen with my own eyes: you're happier than anyone else, happier than your cousins and brothers. They struggle for survival; you enjoy life. In you, I've seen the meaning of life."

Huh?

Chen Guanlou was stunned.

He himself hadn't grasped the meaning of life—yet Du Fuzi had found it in him. How unexpected.

"Master, did you misread me? You can find meaning in me? Write an essay analyzing me? Have you read too many books and gone foolish?"

Du Fuzi's chest ached from anger, then he laughed and scolded: "You—you're always this carefree, dismissive attitude. It feels like there's not a single person in this world you truly care about."

"I do care about you, Master. If anyone ever harms you, I'll avenge you."

Du Fuzi didn't doubt the truth of this—this was exactly the kind of thing Chen Guanlou would do. When Liu Guanshi passed away, Chen Guanlou had gone out of his way to handle the funeral, helped Liu Wanshi with arrangements, and even secured Liu Xiao Chuan a proper position at the Hou Fu.

Others whispered behind his back that Chen Guanlou had designs on Liu Wanshi. But Du Fuzi didn't believe it—Chen Guanlou wasn't that vile.

Liu Wanshi was indeed alluring. Sometimes even Du Fuzi himself thought about being an old lecher—he didn't deny he had base desires. Chen Guanlou surely did too—perhaps he'd dreamed of her at night, had shameful fantasies. But he knew restraint.

To have normal desires yet exercise restraint, to know when to advance and when to retreat—that's not vile. That's simply what a normal person should be.

"I'm just an ordinary teacher—who'd be foolish enough to harm me? Don't speak nonsense. And don't be modest—I know your thoughts. In short, don't try to dissuade me. I'll eat what I want, drink what I want. If I ever get xiao ke zheng, it's fate."

Du Fuzi was remarkably at peace.

Chen Guanlou stopped urging.

With the average lifespan of this era, Du Fuzi would likely die before ever suffering the complications of diabetes.

That's fine!

Sometimes, a short life isn't a curse—it's a blessing. Anyone who's seen the agony of late-stage diabetes complications would think so. It's worse than death!

The old man and the young man ate and drank, beneath a broken moon and sparse stars.

The wine went to his head; Chen Guanlou couldn't hold his tongue and suddenly asked: "Do you think the world will fall into chaos? When it does, will the Master be a loyal minister—or will he rebel?"

"You're drunk! How can you speak such words so carelessly? The world won't fall into chaos."

Chen Guanlou chuckled. "But many people are hoping for chaos. Rebels are rising in the north and south. The Ministry of Revenue is empty. The old emperor remains lost in immortality pursuits. The fallout from deposing the Crown Prince is reshaping the empire. If the world doesn't collapse, certain people won't accept it—they'll use every trick to force it into chaos. So tell me—when that happens, how will the Hou Fu choose?"

"No matter how the Hou Fu chooses, you're still a Chen—you're Chen family. That won't change unless you shed your skin and bones. What do you hope the Hou Fu chooses?"

Du Fuzi was cunning—he'd kicked the question right back.

Chen Guanlou stared at the moon. He couldn't change being a Chen son—he couldn't shed his skin or change his bones. The Hou Fu's rise or fall directly affected his fate.

He could ignore it.

But after growing accustomed to a lazy, comfortable life, he had no desire to endure wind and dew, constant travel, hiding his name.

He'd just take it one step at a time—adapt as he went.