Chapter 62: A Dog

Chen Guanlou feigned silence, pretending to be utterly absorbed in studying the tea cup in his hands—its pattern, its style, its value in copper coins.

Hearing a song, one understands its subtle meaning.

Liu She’s heart understood with a quiet smile; seeing his demeanor, she knew he was the type who wouldn’t let loose the hawk until he saw the rabbit. A year had passed—he’d traded his old gun for a cannon. He was still the same man, but no longer the destitute, timid, humble Chen Guanlou who once begged for favors.

Now he had money.

Money is a man’s courage; with money comes confidence.

Liu She received the correct answer, but misunderstood the reason.

Chen Guanlou indeed had confidence now—but his confidence did not come from Qian Cai. Qian Cai was external wealth; though it had a slight effect, it was only that—slight. His true confidence came from martial power, from the overwhelming strength that had let him defeat a Rank-One martialist, filling his heart with deep self-assurance.

As time passed, he would grow stronger and stronger.

One day, he too wished to reach out and touch the mysterious, unfathomable Grand Master martialists, to stand atop the mountain peak and look down upon all living things.

“Of course I won’t let you help for free,” Liu She said with a smile. “What do you want? Speak freely. I notice your room lacks a woman—why not let Xiujuan serve you?”

As soon as these words left her mouth, both parties turned pale.

Xiujuan panicked, her face flushing crimson and purple, constantly glancing at Chen Guanlou. Her expression clearly disapproved, yet there was a hint of anticipation—no one could tell whether it was more longing for the past or hope for the future.

Chen Guanlou quickly regained his composure and teased, “Madam cannot do without Xiujuan for even a moment—how could I dare steal what you cherish?”

Liu She laughed heartily, her face blooming with mirth, eyes bright and lively. “Enough, enough—your household affairs are none of my concern. I know you’re obsessed with martial arts, so I specially had someone find you a fist manual—I believe it will help you.”

As soon as she finished speaking, a fist manual landed in Chen Guanlou’s hands.

It was old and battered, clearly bearing the marks of time, showing signs of careful, repeated reading.

“Madam’s thoughtfulness—I deeply appreciate it.”

“If the matter succeeds, there will be additional thanks afterward. How? Are you satisfied?”

Chen Guanlou closed the manual and smiled. “Satisfied? Yes, but how can you be certain Yu Zhaoan will do as you wish? He’s been locked in Tianlaomiao for half a year—how much influence does he still have? Are you overestimating him?”

Liu She simply said, “Do your best, then leave the rest to Heaven. If Yu Zhaoan won’t work, we can try another path. Whether it succeeds or not, your reward will not be a single copper coin less—now are you at ease?”

“Madam speaks as if I’d need a reward to help. After all, I bear the Chen surname—I couldn’t stand idly by and watch Hou Fu be manipulated by Zhang Yushi. If Hou Fu falls, how can Chen family descendants like me hope for a good life?”

“That’s the right attitude. Though Hou Fu never cared for you, living in the back alley means you’ve received Hou Fu’s protection—you needn’t fear harassment or robbery.”

This was true.

Living on Hou Fu’s land, everyone coming and going was either a Chen family member or a household-born retainer. Outsiders couldn’t even enter to cause trouble. Even government runners would avoid the area.

Chen Guanlou had no objection to delivering the message.

His rule was simple: take silver, do the job—fair to young and old alike. He trusted Liu She would honor her promise and send silver afterward.

“Madam, go back and wait for news. When the matter is settled, I’ll send the boy from next door, Chunxiang’s wife’s son, to inform your household.”

Liu She smiled warmly, clearly very pleased. “I know you’ve worked through the night—I won’t disturb you further.”

The mistress and her servant set off toward the door.

As they reached the threshold, Chen Guanlou suddenly called out to them, “Madam, you’ve gone to such lengths—did Second Young Mistress Xu Nuo promise you something in return?”

Liu She turned back to look at him. “I won’t hide it from you. It wasn’t Second Young Mistress who acted—this time, it was Second Madam’s order. Second Madam commanded it, so my husband and I must act diligently and settle this matter quickly. Alas, the old matriarch is old—she can’t bear another shock.”

“Aren’t you afraid of offending First Young Mistress?” Chen Guanlou truly couldn’t understand.

“Do you think doing nothing will please First Young Mistress?” Liu She sighed. “Sugar cane doesn’t taste sweet at both ends. Once you’ve chosen a side, you can’t withdraw halfway. The fate of a fence-sitter is rarely good.”

With that, she pressed her lips into a smile, flicked her eyes upward, and walked away—leaving behind a room thick with peach blossom fragrance, intoxicatingly sweet.

…

After their earlier debate on good and evil, Yu Zhaoan’s attitude toward Chen Guanlou had improved slightly—his eyes still looked down from on high, still refused to meet anyone’s gaze directly, but he no longer shouted for violence; his murderous intent seemed slightly diminished.

Chen Guanlou was quite satisfied.

As long as Yu Zhaoan didn’t want to kill him, Chen Guanlou didn’t have to worry about how to kill a Rank-Three martialist—one who’d graduated from Jixia Academy. It lifted a heavy burden from his mind.

As he patrolled the prison, he paused deliberately before Yu Zhaoan’s cell, staring inside.

Yu Zhaoan was reading. Sensing Chen Guanlou’s gaze, he slowly lifted his head. “What?”

Chen Guanlou cleared his throat, trying to look innocent. “How have you been these days, Lord Yu?”

“Whether I’m well or not—can’t you, Chen Tou, tell?”

“Do you know Zhang Yushi of Zhongcheng?”

“So you’ve offended that Zhang? You’re done for—he’s the most vengeful man alive.” Yu Zhaoan gloated, delighted at the prospect of Chen Guanlou’s misfortune.

“You’re no better—petty, holding grudges. You and Zhang Yushi are cut from the same cloth.”

Chen Guanlou didn’t coddle him—he shot back immediately. Neither could claim superiority; they were equally flawed.

Yu Zhaoan’s face darkened instantly, his expression sinking, eyes blazing as if ready to devour him.

“Chen Tou, I’ve just begun to reconsider you—don’t force me to turn against you. Even locked in Tianlaomiao, I need only utter a word to deal with a lowly jailer like you.”

“Lord Yu, you’re being unreasonable. You mocked me first—yet you won’t let me mock you back? Only the magistrate may set fires, while commoners may not light lamps? How tyrannical.”

“The magistrate sets fires, the commoner lights lamps—hah! You’ve learned to speak like a scholar. Even your sarcasm carries literary pretension. You didn’t waste your studies!”

“All thanks to our teachers.”

“Since you say I’m petty and hold grudges, if I don’t record this against you, won’t I be unjustly branded with the label?” Yu Zhaoan smirked.

Chen Guanlou froze, then quickly begged, “Lord Yu, why waste your wrath on me? You’re a celestial star of literature—no need to lower your noble head to look down on a mere nobody. Your gaze should fix on those who stand beside you—or even higher. Like Zhang Yushi.”

“There’s some sense to that.” Yu Zhaoan raised an eyebrow slightly. “Fine—what exactly did Zhang Yushi do to you? Did he forcibly bed you, so you can’t stop talking about him?”