Chapter 404: The Face of Jealousy

"Are you jealous of the Ming dynasty's famed calligraphers, which is why you're selling this scroll to me for just two hundred taels?" Chen Guanlou suspected the man's motives with a petty mind.

Xie Changling flared up like a startled cat. "I'd envy a dead man? A dead man who's been dead for hundreds of years! Chen jailer, you don't have to buy it—don't insult me. And two hundred taels isn't cheap; in my view, this is just a mediocre Ming-era scroll—fifty taels is more than enough."

Still denying jealousy.

The face of envy was plain as day, crystal clear.

Chen Guanlou didn't expose him. "Two hundred taels it is. Since you, Sir Xie, pride yourself on surpassing the Ming masters, why not add a few strokes and a seal to the scroll? In a few decades, this humble Ming scroll will skyrocket in value thanks to your fame—and double its worth."

The idea had just come to him on the spot.

In his view, Xie Changling was no ordinary man—he would rise to greatness someday, perhaps even become a Grand Secretary, a renowned minister of the realm.

One scroll, two masters—its value would surely double.

Besides, the Zhuangyuan 's handwriting was bound to be exquisite, highly collectible. To pass the imperial exams, your calligraphy had to be flawless. Ugly, clumsy script would be rejected outright at the prefectural exam—you'd never even reach the metropolitan or palace examinations.

"Chen jailer's tongue must be blessed. I accept your good fortune. Since you're so eager to see my writing, I'll humbly oblige. When you have the scroll ready and fine ink and brush prepared, I'll compose an essay to congratulate the Marquis's heir on his return to the capital, and wish him a brilliant future."

Look at that arrogant face.

Chen Guanlou clicked his tongue. But he didn't mind. Arrogance born of talent—every age had its share. If the Zhuangyuan wasn't arrogant, that'd be hypocrisy. If he were the Zhuangyuan, he'd hold his head so high it'd brush the ceiling for life. Even ancestral smoke rising wouldn't be enough—it'd have to ignite, burn fiercely.

The two reached an agreement.

Xie Changling wrote a note.

Chen Guanlou took the note and personally went to the Xie residence to retrieve the scroll. Along the way, Xie Changling's wife met him face-to-face, inquiring about her husband's prison life and offering silver to ask him to look after him. Upon learning the Heavenly Prison was bitterly cold, she immediately sent several quilts and thick cotton robes.

"I didn't realize the prison was colder than outside—we weren't prepared enough. Thank you, Chen jailer, for the reminder."

"If family members have time, occasional visits help stabilize the prisoner's mood."

"You're right, Chen jailer. But my husband is stubborn—he refuses outright to let us visit, and even if we come, he won't see us."

"Then have your steward make frequent trips. The Heavenly Prison isn't like the Imperial Secret Prison—its management is relatively humane, and we generally accommodate reasonable requests."

Of course, the precondition was silver properly delivered.

No need to say it aloud—those who understand the unwritten rules already do.

"Today I'm truly grateful. Had you not told me, I'd have known nothing. I've prepared some small snacks for my husband—could they be delivered along with the rest?"

"Food and drink are forbidden. Prisoners may eat only what the guards provide. Please understand, Lady."

"Understood, understood."

The steward brought the famed calligraphy scroll.

Chen Guanlou immediately donned gloves and carefully flipped through it. After so long under Master Du's tutelage, he'd picked up a few things—like wearing gloves, which he'd learned from Master Du.

Then, he wrapped the scroll in soft cotton cloth, added a layer of waterproof oilcloth, placed it in a wooden box, and took his leave.

The two hundred taels were directly credited to Xie Changling's personal account in the Heavenly Prison.

Chen Guanlou paying this money was like shifting funds from his left hand to his right—just a paperwork formality.

The banquet was fast approaching.

After obtaining the scroll, Chen Guanlou borrowed fine ink and brush from Master Du, then personally invited Xie Changling to the official office to write.

Master Du, upon learning the Zhuangyuan was to write a piece as a gift for the Marquis's household, swallowed his aversion to the prison and came to observe, shamelessly.

Chen Guanlou introduced the two on the spot.

Xie Changling now behaved with polite decorum, showing no airs despite Master Du's great age—he bowed respectfully as a junior.

Master Du, however, looked flustered, stepping back repeatedly. "No, no, this is unacceptable. Your talent, Sir Xie, fills me with awe. To intrude and observe your writing today is presumptuous—I beg your pardon."

"No problem. I have no peculiar habits while writing—just don't make noise to disturb me."

"Of course, of course. Not a sound will pass my lips."

Master Du even took it upon himself to supervise Chen Guanlou, glaring at him to shut up.

Chen Guanlou: …

Scholars' annoying habits—he endured it.

On the last two blank pages of the scroll, Xie Changling paused only briefly, then dipped his brush and wrote with swift, fluid strokes. The content was already clear in his mind, mastered long ago. Fine brush, fine ink—his writing flowed effortlessly, seamless, without a single hesitation.

Ink flowed, brush danced—he completed it in one breath.

The Zhuangyuan 's skill was evident in this glimpse alone.

As the final stroke landed, Master Du finally exhaled, his face glowing with excitement. "Sir Xie's mastery has deepened further—your brushwork now stands as its own school, truly bearing the style of a master."

"Have you seen my writing before?"

"When you were named Zhuangyuan years ago, your essay was posted publicly—I had the honor to see it once. Years have passed, and now you've become a true master. Too bad, your calligraphy is rarely seen by the public."

Xie Changling set down his brush, expressionless. "Previously, I served in the Eastern Palace, handling matters tied to the Crown Prince—documents and writings were highly sensitive, not to be leaked. So I refused every request for calligraphy. Had I not been imprisoned, stripped of my official status, I'd never have written so freely."

"You're right, Sir Xie. Life is unpredictable. But I believe you will see the clouds part and the moon shine again."

"I accept your good wishes." Xie Changling's face darkened—he seemed to recall something unpleasant.

Chen Guanlou now held the calligraphy—the gift was secured—and his mood lifted. He waved his hand generously. "Sir Xie, no need to rush back to the prison. Stay, have some tea. I'll have the kitchen prepare two small dishes—we'll share a drink."

This was his way of thanking.

Words of gratitude were hollow. Better to offer something real—what greater gift than temporary freedom, a proper meal, a taste of being human again?

"I won't be formal with you, Chen jailer." Xie Changling bowed slightly in thanks.

Master Du teased, "Eat and drink your fill, Sir Xie—don't be polite with Chen jailer. He's easy to please if you stroke him the right way."