Chapter 8

Injured on official duty, on paid leave.

During the leave, I attended several funerals and offered mourning gifts.

These deceased colleagues, though generally indifferent in daily interactions and sometimes even contentious, had been perfectly healthy one moment and suddenly turned into cannon fodder—Chen Guanlou couldn’t help but sigh in sorrow. Little people, with no rights, couldn’t even decide their own life or death.

Lu Datou didn’t die—he was alive and unharmed, an unexpected blessing.

On the night of the incident, Lu Datou had no money and was still in debt from gambling, so he didn’t join the gambling that night. Out of sight, out of mind—he sneaked off to sleep and slack off in the office, thus narrowly escaping disaster.

Lu Datou brought two jin of meat to visit Chen Guanlou.

Elder sister Chen Xiaolan was delighted and warmly welcomed him inside.

Since Chen Guanlou was injured, Chen Xiaolan had felt as if the sky had fallen, rushing straight back to the Chen household to care for her wounded brother. If Chen Guanlou hadn’t stopped her, she would’ve moved in permanently.

After much persuasion, she was finally convinced to stay only during the day for care, returning to the Su household each night.

Chen Guanlou knew his own condition—he wasn’t seriously hurt, just made to look horrific, precisely to achieve this effect. He couldn’t let his injury make life harder for his sister at the Su household.

Her husband was actually a decent man, but the Su household hadn’t divided the family; all domestic affairs were ruled by Old Lady Su. She was the classic cruel mother-in-law, greedy and snobbish.

After the Chen household lost both master and mistress within two years, Old Lady Su wanted to break off the engagement. But Su Dacheng made the final decision: they wouldn’t kick someone when they were down or climb over the fallen. He insisted his youngest son marry Chen Xiaolan, and Chen Guanlou ended up living off the Su household’s charity for two years.

Fortunately, his sister and brother-in-law had always gotten along well. Otherwise, with Old Lady Su’s torment alone, life would’ve been unbearable.

“You came—that’s enough. Why bring gifts? You’re too kind. Xiao Lou is waiting for you in the room—he’s been looking forward to your visit. Chat as long as you like. I’ll cook two dishes for you to go with wine. But Xiao Lou’s injured, so don’t let him drink.”

“Sister, rest assured—I know my limits.”

Lu Datou entered the study and saw Chen Guanlou engrossed in an outdated official gazette.

“Big Head, you’re here—sit down.” Chen Guanlou rose to greet him and poured tea from the teapot.

“Don’t bother. You’re injured—how can you wait on me? I’ll do it myself.”

Lu Datou snatched the teapot and downed two cups of tea in quick succession.

In just a few days, the weather turned hot. Though the journey from the yamen was short, he was drenched in sweat.

Sigh.

Lu Datou set down his teacup and let out a heavy sigh. “Jiang Yucheng is gone.”

Chen Guanlou was instantly startled. “Gone?”

“They say he drank too much, fell into the river, and drowned.” Lu Datou sneered. “Do you believe that?”

Chen Guanlou opened his mouth—he didn’t believe it for a second. Such a ridiculous excuse, they couldn’t even bother to pretend. It was practically written on their foreheads: “Murder to silence.”

He sighed too. “So many dead. When will this end? What’s the upper echelon’s official stance on the prison break?”

Since the night of the incident, he had never once mentioned the name Ghost Domain Sect. The yamen had consistently labeled it a vile prison break by outlaw bandits who broke the law with force.

The words “Ghost Domain Sect” appeared nowhere in writing or speech. The Ghost Domain Sect’s hall master who escaped the Tianlao prison was, in everyone’s eyes, merely a brazen thief.

Chen Guanlou wasn’t sure if the higher-ups knew the truth or whether Jiang Yucheng was innocent. But based on his two lifetimes of experience, this whole affair was deeply suspicious: a high-ranking hall master of the Ghost Domain Sect hiding his identity, posing as a notorious bandit, robbing tax silver, getting caught by the Liùshànmen, and thrown into Tianlao prison with brutal torture—this made no sense.

It felt more like a statement. More accurately, a token of allegiance.

To whom exactly this token was offered—this was too murky for Chen Guanlou to fathom.

When the big shots above clashed, innocent jailers died as collateral. Who could they appeal to? The dead were just dead. Who said Tianlao was safe? A prison break happens every now and then—who could endure it?

Chen Guanlou silently resolved to be more cautious from now on. This time, he’d barely escaped thanks to quick reflexes. He needed to hurry and cultivate his Wu Gong, raise his realm. Even if he couldn’t defeat those martial masters, he must at least buy himself a chance to flee.

Only by staying alive could he have a future.

“If Jiang Yucheng was made the scapegoat, will the higher-ups keep digging?” Chen Guanlou asked.

Lu Datou, a seasoned veteran with many sources, replied: “What comes next isn’t something our level has the right to meddle in. The top brass in the Ministry of Justice are swamped—some will fall, others will rise.”

Hearing this, Chen Guanlou breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they didn’t dig deeper into the Tianlao prison, he was safe. He decided to return to work in a few days.

“You’re a decent man. I heard you gave mourning gifts to every family that lost someone.” Lu Datou had previously regarded Chen Guanlou as nothing more than a drinking buddy. But now, learning that Chen Guanlou had offered condolences even to strangers he barely knew, he raised his opinion of him—and decided to treat him as a true friend.

Chen Guanlou spoke sincerely: “We were colleagues. If I can help, I will.”

“I finally get it—you’re genuinely decent. Unlike others—damn it—after all these years as colleagues, when someone dies, they don’t even show up, let alone offer a single mourning gift. It’s heartless. If I ever die, I won’t count on those bastards—I’ll count on you to handle things for me.”

“Spit, spit, spit—we’ll all live to a hundred.”

Chen Guanlou suspected Lu Datou had been deeply shaken—why else would he speak so pessimistically? He was alive and well—why bring up death? So unrefined.

“Fine, I won’t mention life or death. Brother, if anything good comes my way, I won’t forget you.”

“Just don’t come begging for loans after you lose at gambling—that’s all I ask.”

“I don’t always lose. Next time, I’ll win it all back.”

Chen Guanlou: …

He was sworn enemies with gambling and drugs.

After recovering for half a month, Chen Guanlou officially returned to work.

New faces had replaced the old ones at the gate; the former staff had been killed as collateral. He entered the familiar duty room—still as foul and chaotic as ever, a mix of new and old faces.

At lunch, Xu Fugui, rarely seen, approached him and said he wanted to talk.

Since his first day on duty, Chen Guanlou had rarely encountered Xu Fugui—they didn’t even work in the same area; meeting required deliberate effort.

Now, Xu Fugui had suddenly sought him out—Chen Guanlou thought darkly: given his current bad luck, this probably wasn’t good news.

Sure enough.

“Xiao Lou, someone reported you’re breaking rules—you’ve been bringing food and drink to prisoners, and even helping them pass messages.”