Chapter 385: Must Be Beaten

The originally certain death sentence, disrupted by Yu Zhaoan, instead brought life to Prince Zhong.

By the time the old emperor realized what had happened, the matter was already settled.

He cared about his reputation; having played the part of defending Prince Zhong too far earlier, he could no longer recklessly frame Prince Zhong to kill him. Even if just for show, he had to consult and discuss carefully with his ministers.

Should Prince Zhong take the blame?

Yes!

Should Prince Zhong die?

No!

After all, the original instigator of all this was the old emperor.

Though the ministers didn't say it outright, everyone shared an unspoken understanding. Some things need not be spoken—those who know, know.

The old emperor understood better than anyone.

Precisely because he understood, he grew even angrier, his fury boiling over. The more he looked at Yu Zhaoan, the more unbearable he became.

The old emperor suspected that from the very beginning, Yu Zhaoan had acted deliberately—deliberately impeaching Prince Zhong to save him. He never doubted the wisdom of his ministers; all were clever men, none fools. The key lay in where that cleverness was applied.

Clearly, Yu Zhaoan had applied his cleverness in the wrong place.

Anyone with eyes could see that Yu Zhaoan had fallen out of favor; he had been scolded repeatedly before the old emperor. Every proposal he made was rejected without reason. Yet the same proposal, if made by someone else, would earn the old emperor's cheerful nod of approval.

Clear favoritism!

Jiang Tu grinned crookedly. Sometimes, being foolish has its blessings. Having read little and reacting slowly had its advantages. Read too much, think too much—that was Yu Zhaoan's fate.

Yet Yu Zhaoan, though a fool, was remarkably carefree, paying no mind to any of it. Only after the old emperor's rage had spent itself did he request a private audience and speak solemnly to the old emperor: "Anyone can die, but Prince Zhong must not. Even if Prince Zhong must die, it cannot happen while you still live."

The words came out of nowhere. Qiu Defu stood beside him, wondering what game Yu Zhaoan was playing—had he lost his mind?

But the old emperor understood the hidden meaning in Yu Zhaoan's words.

The matter of deposing the crown prince had already damaged his reputation; the whole realm spat at him. Even common folk, influenced by scholars, echoed the accusations and called him a foolish ruler.

The old emperor had spent his life clinging to his dignity, yet now, in old age, he was branded a fool. Countless nights he lay awake, furious, wanting to go mad and kill every soul who dared call him a fool. By day, he forced himself to suppress that rage, to play the role of a wise sovereign, a loving father, showing care for Prince Zhong and suppressing ministers who slandered him.

He was utterly split in two.

If he killed Prince Zhong now, his reputation would sink beyond recovery—perhaps even more rebels would rise under the banner of the deposed crown prince.

The banner of the deposed crown prince was too useful, too potent in swaying hearts.

Therefore…

Prince Zhong truly must not die.

Even if confined, he must not die. Not for ten years.

After ten years, it would depend on circumstances.

The old emperor narrowed his eyes, studying Yu Zhaoan, probing his intentions.

Yu Zhaoan knew the test had come. He seized the moment: "I am your subject, my lord. I serve only you! Others, including Prince Zhong, are merely pawns in your hands."

"I hope you mean what you say."

Soon after, the ministers noticed that Yu Zhaoan, once neglected, had regained the old emperor's favor—sometimes even outshining Left Chancellor Li Liangcheng. Yu Zhaoan had firmly reestablished himself in court, his influence steadily growing.

Xie Changling, imprisoned in the Heavenly Prison, remained well-informed, closely monitoring court developments. Upon learning that Yu Zhaoan had survived the crisis and regained favor, he sent another message to him.

This time, he did not approach Chen Guanlou—he knew the man would refuse. Instead, he secretly bribed a jailer to deliver the message.

Chen Guanlou turned a blind eye to all this; he couldn't stop it. A sieve is a sieve—leaks are everywhere.

Unluckily, two jailers in the Heavenly Prison died in succession—one choked, one drowned—both accidental deaths. The coroner examined the bodies and found no signs of foul play.

Chen Guanlou didn't believe it. He asked Old Zhang to investigate.

Old Zhang shook his head. "No doubt about the cause of death. No signs of foul play. Accidents like this happen every year. You're just too paranoid."

Chen Guanlou frowned. "I don't think I'm paranoid. Are you absolutely certain? Not a single clue?"

Seeing Chen Guanlou's persistence, Old Zhang re-examined the bodies. "If you insist on a clue, the nails on both corpses are too clean. You know what jailers are like—clearly more than I do. Not everyone is as fastidious as you."

Following Old Zhang's hint, Chen Guanlou, holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth to stifle his disgust, examined the nails of the two corpses.

Clean?

By his standards, nails were filthy and needed thorough scrubbing.

"This is clean?" Chen Guanlou challenged Old Zhang.

Old Zhang rolled his eyes. "Go find two jailers and compare their nails—you'll see how clean or dirty they are."

Without delay, Chen Guanlou returned to the prison, gathered all the jailers, and inspected each one's fingernails.

Damn it—unbearable to look at.

Do these people never clean their fingernails?

Old Zhang was right—the two dead jailers had slightly cleaner nails, inconsistent with their station.

He asked Old Zhang: "What does this mean?"

Old Zhang told him: "It means someone handled the bodies before the yamen runners found them. Their nails were wiped clean. Something may have been lodged under them—something they didn't want seen—so it was removed."

"Foul play?"

"You can't prove foul play just from the nails. Only that there's a clue. Drop it. You won't find the truth. In all these years, no jailer's death has ever been solved."

Chen Guanlou understood Old Zhang's implication.

In this line of work, any real interest lies only in the prisoners. A jailer's death usually ties back to the prisoners—and the cases behind them. Anyone locked in the Heavenly Prison is tied to a major case. A mere jailer's death is insignificant.

Even if the prisoners, in collusion with outsiders, had killed them, it wasn't worth investigating—no need to stir up trouble. A jailer's death drew no attention from the Ministry of Justice, let alone warranted the Six Ministries' manpower or force.

The outcome was always the same: accidental death. Case closed.

Chen Guanlou slammed his fist against the wooden plank.

This time, he wouldn't stay silent. He would give the prisoners a warning.

He ordered Xiao Jin to secretly investigate: which imprisoned officials had secretly contacted outsiders, and which jailers had been involved.

It was a sieve, but if you truly looked, you could still find something.

Soon, Xie Changling's name appeared on the list.

Chen Guanlou strolled slowly to the prison gate, tapping the bars with his water-and-fire staff: "Mr. Xie, what do you take my jailers for?"