Chapter 421

The guards of the Jia-sized prison discovered a small secret.

Though the rebel king of Great Ming lay helplessly in bed every day, his gaze toward Prisoner Chen always burned with intensity—like a man staring at a beautiful woman.

All the guards shuddered in unison.

"We never heard the Great Ming King had such a taste!"

"Prisoner Chen is good-looking, but he's always only after women!"

Chen Guanlou: …

Bold!

Doesn't matter!

He sometimes reminded the Great Ming King, "Give up while you still can."

He is a man no one can have.

How could the Great Ming King give up?

If he were a man of weak will, his rebellion would have collapsed at the very start—he could never have dragged on for years, turning the Great Gan Dynasty upside down.

Anyone who undertakes great deeds, especially those rising from the bottom, shares one trait: unwavering will, never giving up.

"Prisoner Chen, you have a brilliant future ahead—you needn't waste your life as a lowly prison guard. The world outside is vast, full of opportunity. Though my forces beyond these walls are nearly broken, even a dying camel is bigger than a horse—I can still offer you something. Just nod, and it's all yours."

"Not interested. Don't care!" Chen Guanlou silently gave him a side-eye. "Are you comfortable here? Of course you are—servants attend to your eating, drinking, and excretion. If you feel unwell, just say nothing. We guarantee top-tier medical care—you'll live to see next year's Heaven-Worship Ceremony."

"The old emperor is cruel and unjust, obsessed with Daoist immortality and ignoring the people's suffering. How can you serve such a man as his dog? It's truly disappointing."

"Is serving me any nobler?" Chen Guanlou shot back. "Betrayal, treachery, unrepentant rebellion—you're no better than the old emperor. You're worse. At least when I serve the emperor, it's legitimate. What are you? A rebel. A rebel who's already destroyed himself."

The Great Ming King's chest swelled with fury, as if about to burst. "I've failed—but after I die, countless others will inherit my will and overthrow this rotten Great Gan Dynasty!"

"You said it yourself—after you die. Then we'll talk after you're dead. Frankly, you're not worthy of my loyalty."

Chen Guanlou was always skilled at stabbing people in the heart and rubbing salt into their wounds.

"You don't need to serve anyone. I, the Great Ming King, don't need your loyalty. You only need to nod—then you inherit my legacy."

Chen Guanlou chuckled. Same answer: "Not interested."

Is the Great Gan Dynasty rotten?

It certainly is.

Is it rotten enough to warrant total overthrow and rebuilding?

Chen Guanlou thought: not necessarily.

Some parts are rotten, but others still function, still alive. With sufficient resolve, cut out the rot—and recovery is still possible.

The difficulty lies in having that resolve.

The old emperor certainly lacks it.

Prince Zhong? Look at how he acted during the deposed Crown Prince's time—he's equally lacking in resolve. With three thousand Eastern Palace guards at his command, he still dared not risk everything. Hmph, coward!

Among all the imperial princes, who has true resolve?

Chen Guanlou counted them all—and found none. All were scheming, petty, skilled in deceit, yet utterly devoid of righteous, open strategy. Just like the old emperor—lacking the dignity and breadth of vision befitting an emperor.

After work, he went home for hot pot.

The clan was in an uproar over the feud he and Chen Qingqing had sparked; his uncle was running around in a frenzy, and word had reached the Marquis's heir.

As the party involved, Chen Guanlou stood outside it all, like a spectator watching a play.

Spring Fragrance's sister was frantic, urging Chen Guanlou to take it seriously.

Chen Guanlou pointed to a bowl of fried pork rinds sprinkled with salt and asked Spring Fragrance's sister if she wanted some—completely ignoring her advice.

Unable to bear the nagging, he simply went out for nightlife.

He picked a private room by the riverbank, with five or six courtesans to drink and sing with. The madam tried to get him to join the new courtesan's selection—he flatly refused.

"Boring!"

"Mr. Guan, you jest! Our new courtesan was meticulously trained for ten years—beautiful, and skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting."

Tonight, Chen Guanlou wore a disguise—his name was Guan, Master Guan, a middle-aged merchant from afar, absurdly wealthy. Not just rich—he was handsome too, a middle-aged charmer.

He raised his cup and said casually, "She has no noblewoman's birth, yet suffers noblewoman's ailments. Can your new courtesan serve a man better than these ladies here?"

The courtesans covered their lips and giggled.

"Only Master Guan truly understands."

"Master Guan, drink!"

"Master Guan, don't go home tonight—our sisters are all yours to choose."

"Master Guan, call me sister—I'm only sixteen."

"Twenty-eight, you mean!"

"Hahaha… no, not twenty-eight—only twenty. Truly. You can ask the madam for her indenture papers."

"Ladies…"

"'Ladies' sounds nice—I like it."

The madam was both delighted and disappointed, pressing on: "Master Guan, reconsider? Our new courtesan is so beautiful, the moon hides, flowers blush, fish sink, and birds fall—everyone who sees her is enchanted."

Chen Guanlou smiled, pulling the courtesan beside him close, and said to the madam: "I have no interest in girls aged fourteen to sixteen."

Too young—like unripe fruit, sour and tasteless, only pretty on the outside. He doesn't indulge in children. At least eighteen.

The madam was speechless.

"Master Guan, you're joking."

"I'm not joking." Chen Guanlou grew listless and opened the window for air. The lake shimmered under moonlight, still as a mirror.

Even at night, many people moved about nearby.

The capital's nightlife was rich indeed.

A shadow flickered briefly through the crowd—then vanished when he looked again.

Chen Guanlou immediately tossed down a silver ingot, leapt out the window, and chased after the shadow.

The courtesans and madam stared at each other in silence.

The madam moved fastest, snatching up the silver and barking orders: "One person stays here—if Master Guan returns, he must know we care for him. Everyone else, follow me downstairs. No dawdling."

Chen Guanlou moved through the city's lantern-lit streets, searching the crowd.

He never doubted his instinct or his eyes.

He reached the small dock, smiled suddenly, tossed a silver ingot to the boatman, took the pole, and rowed toward the lake's center.

Lanterns reflected on the water, rippling with rhythmic splashes.

At the lake's center, he set down the pole and sat quietly at the bow, waiting.