Chapter 397: Youth Should Be Bold

Inspector Tian strained to open his eyes and stared at him.

Chen Guanlou saw no wisdom in the man's eyes, only eye gunk. Perhaps it was because the man's eyes were too small, too cloudy. People of age inevitably suffered from sagging skin, obscuring what might once have been sharp eyes.

"You live so cautiously—it's unlike a jailer," Inspector Tian sighed. "This place, the Tianlaomiao, doesn't demand such caution."

"My lord, no matter how you try to sweet-talk me, I won't give you anything for free. If you want fresh air, you pay the full price." Chen Guanlou's tone was unmoving—he'd talk about anything under the sun, just don't mention free.

These days, money's hard to earn, shit's hard to swallow, everyone's struggling. Don't even think about free.

Inspector Tian snorted, clearly displeased. Was he someone who sought free things? He merely couldn't bear to see a promising soul wasted—that's why he'd taken the time to talk. To assume the worst of him? He wasn't that stingy. A hundred taels? He could easily afford it.

"Besides money, does your Tianlaomiao have any other aspirations?"

"My lord, you speak as if it's strange. If not money, then fame and glory? We do have hearts that crave glory—but can scholars and court officials tolerate lowly jailers standing beside you in the halls of power? You've sealed every path shut, no air leaks through, leaving only one narrow corridor—and you demand we play by your rules, no deviation allowed. You've blocked every exit. What else can a jailer aspire to but money?"

Chen Guanlou smiled as he spoke, his words striking straight to the core, with no evasion or flattery.

It's like a capitalist takes all the surplus value, then scolds ordinary people: Why don't you buy a house? A car? Why won't you spend? Why won't you empty your pockets? No money? Then become a beast of burden!

Inspector Tian wasn't embarrassed.

He was already in his sixties; earth had nearly reached his neck. He had far fewer years left. In his lifetime, he'd heard far harsher words, far more cutting attacks on his soul.

He shifted slowly, transferring his weight to his other foot, and said, "People must have conscience, beyond just chasing money."

Chen Guanlou smiled, calm and unhurried, as if commenting on the fine weather. "You forbid us a way to live, then blame jailers for being greedy. Yet you demand we have conscience. Why do you officials never speak the word 'conscience'? I've heard your speeches, your writings meant to inspire scholars—never once did 'conscience' appear."

The lower classes are already exhausted, yet the court and government demand more from them: be diligent, endure hardship, learn to suffer, learn to endure. If your life is miserable, it's your fate—not the court's or government's fault. And you mustn't be greedy. Only give, never receive. You want common folk to work twelve hours a day, never eat, never rest. Then you demand conscience. You demand morality. Why so many demands?

Where are the same demands for officials? It seems all they need is to pass the exams, have connections, and they can do whatever they want—no hardship, no diligence, no endurance, no self-pity over bad fate. They openly steal wealth, never become beasts of burden, yet get huge returns for minimal effort. Every day they feast, every night eighteen concubines warm their beds—and no one demands conscience or morality. Being an official is truly wonderful!

Chen Guanlou looked into the cell at Inspector Tian and smiled. "I even want to become an official. My lord, do you think I'm suited for it?"

Inspector Tian's lips twitched, his beard quivered. "You—"

"Not suited? Of course not. I'm a jailer's son—I could never stand among you officials. How embarrassing for you. I understand. I understand completely!" Chen Guanlou grinned, always amiable, even when stating truths—he framed them with self-deprecation.

"My lord, being an official is so wonderful. Now that you've fallen, treat it as paying to avoid disaster. The more you spend in the Tianlaomiao, the farther your misfortune recedes. I'm certain one day, fortune will turn. You'll return to office, clad in official robes, pleading for the people. I believe it will happen. So it's settled—I'll have a hundred taels transferred right away. When the weather improves, I'll arrange your outdoor time."

Chen Guanlou spoke with finality. He smiled, but his tone left no room for refusal. Whether Inspector Tian agreed or not, the money would be deducted from his account.

Inspector Tian cleared his throat, leaning against the cell bars to ease the strain on his feet. "Chen jailer, you truly are surprising."

"My lord, don't flatter me. I've heard such praise many times—my ears are nearly calloused."

The old man pretended warmth, but his sense of class, hierarchy, and superiority was deeply etched into his bones. Though Inspector Tian spoke politely, he despised jailers more than those who shouted and cursed.

A cunning old fox. Others couldn't see through him; they were fooled by his facade. But Chen Guanlou had sharp instincts—he knew the man's true nature the moment they met.

The man loathed jailers in his very soul. In his eyes, everyone in the Tianlaomiao was a filthy insect. When he spoke to Chen Guanlou, it was charity. Chen Guanlou, as the recipient, should be grateful.

But Chen Guanlou didn't show gratitude—he mocked him. Inspector Tian had already added him to his blacklist, marking him as the one jailer most deserving of contempt.

In contrast, young officials like Xie Gechen had no such rigid hierarchy. They didn't clearly distinguish high from low, noble from base—the lines were sometimes blurred. They spoke with jailers, chatted casually, never assumed it was charity.

Inspector Tian snorted. He could cite countless ancient texts to refute Chen Guanlou, to scold him bitterly. But it would be meaningless.

He even doubted whether Chen Guanlou understood him. Did he know the origins of those famous quotes? Talking to a cow with a zither—pure waste of breath. Insulting someone who gives no reaction? It's just self-indulgence.

In the end, Inspector Tian said only one thing: "Young and full of arrogance!"

Chen Guanlou looked down and smiled, his tone dismissive. "If you're not full of arrogance, are you even young? My lord, you're old—don't take it personally. You just sit tight, reflect deeply, ask yourself why you're locked up—and if there's any way to fix it. Whether jailers are greedy or lack conscience, you needn't worry. It's none of your business. Isn't that right?"