Chapter 489: That Picture Is Too Beautiful Not to Take a Few More Looks

"It's not only you in the court who knows how to rake in money." Chen Chen Guanlou bluntly shattered Jiang Tu's dream.

Jiang Tu, however, didn't mind, and said quite smugly, "I'm the only one willing to be the Emperor's dog."

Chen Chen Guanlou: …

"Plenty of people are willing to be the Emperor's dog. One more of you wouldn't add anything, one less wouldn't take anything away."

"But how many can both be a dog AND rake in money?" Jiang Tu said, puffed up with pride.

For a moment, Chen Chen Guanlou found himself unable to retort.

Everyone loves money, but not everyone knows how to rake it in or manage it. Just like in later generations, you constantly see reports of someone being swindled out of a few hundred thousand, someone else losing millions, even university professors getting tricked out of tens of millions by con artists with only a middle-school education. Bank tellers try hard to stop them, yet can't keep certain people from jumping straight into the pit.

Tell me, with brains like that, can such a person guard wealth, rake in wealth, or manage wealth?

The key is, even a person capable of managing and raking in money who wants to be the Emperor's dog still needs connections! Take those shopkeepers, for instance—each and every one understands money management, understands how to do business. But they lack the connections to be the Emperor's dog, lack the strength and courage to take the blame, and one wrong move and they're done for.

Jiang Tu is one of the rare people who can both rake in money and take the blame, and can also take a beating. And he has a set of effective life-saving methods. Otherwise, he wouldn't have lived to today.

If his abilities were even slightly lacking, the old Emperor couldn't have protected him. Even if he had protected him, some accident could still have gotten him killed.

In the final analysis, the old Emperor's use of him was inseparable from his personal abilities.

Chen Chen Guanlou asked with great interest, "Lord Jiang is so confident—have you gotten some inside information? Do you know who will inherit the throne, and have you already built the right connections in advance?"

Jiang Tu smiled mysteriously. "Keep your nose out of palace affairs. You only need to know that this official may not die."

Putting on airs in front of him—Chen Chen Guanlou gave a snort of contempt.

He said softly, "The altar explosion case directly killed His Majesty. That's a massive charge—regicide. Lord Jiang, are you certain you can survive? No matter which Imperial Prince takes the throne, he'll have to avenge his late father; otherwise, he's unfit to be a son, let alone a ruler."

"What does His Majesty's death have to do with me? I'm His Majesty's running dog—there's no one in this world who wants His Majesty healthy and long-lived more than I do. The altar explosion case is clearly a frame-up."

"But the altar was built under your supervision, so no matter what, you bear full responsibility. Even if someone schemed against you and exploited a loophole, it's still because of your poor management that they got the chance. If you'd managed things properly, not even a fly could have gotten in, let alone explosives. No matter how you cry injustice, no matter how you protest, your guilt is sealed. If you were pardoned, the whole world would refuse to accept it. Lord Jiang, you could say you've gotten exactly what you asked for."

Chen Chen Guanlou watched with a grin, enjoying the show.

The old Emperor remained unconscious until death, and during that time no one moved against Jiang Tu—probably because, like him, they were all waiting to watch the show. To see how the once-untouchable Jiang Tu would become a stray dog. That picture is too beautiful not to take a few more looks at. In the years to come, it'll be hard to see such a lively show again.

"Impossible!" Jiang Tu blustered, outwardly fierce but inwardly cowardly. He was indeed a bit panicked, but he couldn't afford to lose face in front of a mere jailer. "In the altar explosion case, at most I bear the charge of poor supervision—exile at worst. The real culprit is the one who planted the explosives, the one who wanted His Majesty dead. Li Li Liangcheng doesn't go after the real murderer, only locks me up—he's clearly taking personal revenge."

Jiang Tu was terrified, and he was also furious.

He wasn't that old—within officialdom, he absolutely belonged in the ranks of young officials. Barring accidents, he could have lived for several more decades. The key point was, he'd only enjoyed a few good years, and now the wealth he'd embezzled had to be handed over, and he had to lose his life on top of it—no matter how he looked at it, he couldn't accept it.

"It's useless telling me all this, my lord. I only know that any treacherous minister who enters the Heavenly Prison basically never gets his case overturned. The best outcome is exile—at least you keep your life. As for you, death would be the real release."

Chen Chen Guanlou was stating facts.

Jiang Tu's reputation preceded him—if he were exiled, he'd probably die on the road before reaching the place of exile. The most likely scenario: barely out of Jingcheng and he's done for.

"Really no way at all?" Jiang Tu clearly wanted to fight for a chance.

Chen Chen Guanlou slowly shook his head. "You're a big target. The people hoping for your death are as numerous as carp crossing the river."

Jiang Tu gritted his teeth. "There's always a way. Let this official think it through carefully."

Chen Chen Guanlou nodded, took the slip, and left the Heavenly Prison.

Lord Jiang was generous as always—a full ten thousand taels. He had Qian Xu Fugui take the slip to Jiang Fu to knock on the door and collect the money.

The process of collecting the money went quite smoothly.

The Jiang Fu's steward was a sensible man. He knew his master's life was now in the Heavenly Prison's hands, didn't dare put on airs, paid up readily, and repeatedly begged them to take good care of their master. He also said that if money could buy his life, everyone in Jiang Fu would gladly pay any price.

Clearly, the Jiang family all understood the building was about to collapse. Half the sky had already fallen; the other half was waiting for the new Emperor's accession. They didn't dare hope for anything else—only to survive.

If Jiang Tu's life could be preserved, the Jiang family's lives could be preserved.

If Jiang Tu died, the entire Jiang household would die. There was no possibility of Jiang Tu dying while the Jiang household survived. The Jiang family's only protector was Jiang Tu—only Jiang Tu, no second person. This was already the consensus of everyone in the Jiang family.

If anyone came to their door claiming they could save the whole family's lives but only at the cost of sacrificing Jiang Tu, sacrificing money—absolutely not to be trusted. What kind of thing the Jiang family was, whether they had any value worth others going to the trouble of saving—the Jiang family knew better than anyone. A rare self-awareness.

This might be the self-awareness that comes with being the family of a treacherous minister. Once they gave up illusions, each and every one of them became especially calm, sensible, and clear-headed about right and wrong. Not daring to hold on to even the slightest hope.

You have to know what kind of thing you are.

When other families run into trouble and cling to hope, it's because they can actually find people to help. Maybe classmates, maybe people who passed the imperial exam the same year, maybe people from the same hometown, maybe like-minded colleagues, maybe teachers…

What does Jiang Tu have?

Nothing at all.

He's nothing but an unlearned, useless lout—no "same" anything, and certainly no teachers. His fellow townsfolk are all poor relatives, or else the running dogs around him.

With an identity like that, without the old Emperor, it's a dead end.

And yet, Jiang Tu still fantasized about surviving.

Chen Chen Guanlou thought to himself, one could only say Jiang Tu was an optimist.

An optimist is good—won't go looking for death, won't get depressed and tangled up. He doesn't have to worry about a death in the prison. Cheers.

Qian Xu Fugui took the money and, following instructions, first set aside seventy percent, waiting for Sun Sun Daoning to send someone to collect it. As for how to distribute the rest, he didn't dare decide on his own and could only report to Chen Chen Guanlou for instructions.