Chapter 384: Resentment

The autumn wind grew cool.

Chen Guanlou sat in the office, flipping through the ledgers.

There were two ledgers: public and private. The public ledger was submitted to the Ministry of Justice, which took a cut based on its recorded amounts. The private ledger was for the Tianlaomiao's internal distribution, though a portion was still siphoned off as bribes to higher officials.

If you didn't treat the superiors well, the private ledger had to be merged into the public one, and everything would be taxed by the Ministry of Justice.

He didn't know whether Sun Daoning got a share of the private ledger's cut—he'd never asked, and didn't want to. As long as he didn't care, these matters never bothered him.

The public ledger remained as steady as ever, neither increasing nor decreasing, its figures rooted in place, unmoved. Everyone understood this, and was satisfied.

No change meant stability.

Stability was the most important thing in officialdom.

The private ledger saw a slight increase.

Autumn had arrived—clear skies, crisp air, the finest season of the year. The imprisoned officials could no longer hold back; they all wanted to step outside, breathe the air, shake off the year's misfortune and bad luck, and pray for better fortune next year.

One hundred taels per session for outdoor time—expensive, yet not expensive. It depended on who you were.

The imprisoned officials in Tianlaomiao generally had no shortage of money. There were poor officials in the capital, but they were rare and not always present.

Cut back elsewhere: skip a bath, swap premium Xuan paper for ordinary, eat meat once less, drink wine a few times less—you'd have your hundred taels.

For officials locked away for years in the sunless Tianlaomiao, sunlight, rain, breeze, and clear tea were more precious than anything else—worth every tael.

The courtyard for outdoor time had been renovated: stone slabs laid down, flowers and plants added, the building lightly decorated, windows bright, desks clean, writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone—all present, nothing missing. At a glance, you'd think you'd stepped into someone's study.

If conditions allowed, two beautiful maids could even be arranged to serve.

But Tianlaomiao could not accommodate women; a woman entering Tianlaomiao was like a lamb entering a tiger's den—no one expected her to walk out unharmed. Don't expect moral conscience to exist in a purely male domain. Look at the female prisoners next door: their high walls blocked all peering, preventing any misconduct.

Human nature couldn't withstand testing!

When Chen Guanlou arrived at the courtyard, he saw Xie Gechen seated in a rocking chair, eyes half-closed, basking in the sun. A cup of clear tea and a half-read collection of casual notes rested on the table beside him. The other officials enjoying outdoor time lay or sat however they pleased, lounging lazily in the sunlight, like addicts greedily soaking up its nourishment.

The rest of each day had to be endured with this half-day of sunlight—no ounce could be wasted.

"Lord Xie is enjoying himself."

Chen Guanlou brought over a chair and sat down, chatting casually.

Xie Gechen opened one eye a sliver, glancing at him. "Officer Chen, long time no see. I heard you just returned from your trip."

"I've been back many days, rested a few, but haven't yet made the rounds through the cells. What, have you missed me so much in my absence?"

"Without Officer Chen, Tianlaomiao reverted to the filthy, ugly place people always say it is. I never noticed before, but now that I've seen the contrast, I realize how vital you are. As long as you're here, your guards and sergeants know to follow rules and manners, even occasionally mention cleanliness. When you're gone, they all show their true colors—utterly disgraceful."

"How disgraceful? Just a bit more fond of gambling, a bit dirtier, a bit more foul-mouthed."

Chen Guanlou knew full well the guards' conduct—left unchecked, they ran wild, embracing filth and stench. On such a hot day, who could believe someone went a full month without bathing, brushing teeth, washing face, or changing clothes—and still felt perfectly fine? His whole body reeked so badly, the stench drifted three li in the wind.

Tianlaomiao had such men—and not just one or two, but whole groups, none daring to criticize the others.

Since becoming jailer, Chen Guanlou enforced strict rules: at least change clothes every three days. He had several uniforms—there was no excuse not to change. Even if you didn't want to wash them yourself, hiring a washerwoman cost little. Compared to the guards' income, it was a drop in the ocean—convenient for you, hygienic for you, and created work for others. Immense merit.

When he was present, the guards all followed hygiene rules, doing their best to stay clean.

During his month-long absence, with no one watching, they all slipped back into old habits. With this sweltering weather, they sweated profusely daily; ten or fifteen days without washing? The smell was unimaginable.

Tianlaomiao already stank. Add the guards' odor, and any outsider stepping inside would be knocked unconscious.

Xie Gechen was a child of heaven, his entire life's suffering endured within Tianlaomiao.

No wonder he started complaining the moment they met.

"I understand Officer Chen's concern for your subordinates, but I disagree with your description. It's not just 'a bit' gambling, 'a bit' dirty, 'a bit' smelly. It's not 'a bit'—it's a chasm, a yawning abyss. Yet it has shown me how remarkably strict you are in controlling your men. The moment you returned, your subordinates all became obedient. Today, nearly all changed into clean uniforms and even washed with soap."

Chen Guanlou realized: every word Xie Gechen spoke dripped with deep resentment.

He hadn't known his men had all changed clothes and bathed today. Clearly, the guards took his demands seriously. Good. Excellent. Must be maintained.

If he wanted to improve his work environment, he had to start by changing the people.

"They're all rough men. Lord Xie, please bear with them. Next time you want to bask in the sun, I'll have someone brew you a separate cup of tea—tea I brought from Hou Fu. You won't find it outside."

"Thank you, Officer Chen. I'm already eager."

"When I returned, I heard the Prince of Zhong has been having a hard time lately, locked in a verbal battle with Minister Yu."

"There's no verbal battle. It's all the Emperor's will."

Xie Gechen lowered his head, his resentment heavy. Though he concealed it well, Chen Guanlou sensed it. This resentment was aimed at the old Emperor.

Tsk tsk.

The old Emperor was hated.

The more who hated him, the better.

"Prince Chu's rebellion must be blamed on someone. Everyone knows the blame lies with the Emperor. Had the Emperor not stubbornly insisted, Prince Chu would never have dared raise rebellion—he'd have remained hidden. The Emperor cares too much for face, too proud to admit such grave consequences. No one is more suitable than the Prince of Zhong. A divine opportunity! This is the perfect chance to permanently eliminate the Prince of Zhong and close the case. Yet…"

Yu Zhaoan moved first, dragging the Prince of Zhong into the whirlpool—and in doing so, saved him.

Controversy brings uncertainty. Uncertainty brings opportunity. Opportunity means survival.

The old Emperor fell for Yu Zhaoan's scheme.