Chapter 88: Not Asking the Future, Only the Heart

“Chen Tou really thought of everything.”

Liu Shi bowed repeatedly in gratitude, then added sadly, “I’m just a woman—what can I do if others cause trouble? I only hope Da Lang returns home soon to hold the family together.”

Chen Guanlou studied her, then suddenly asked, “Madam, have you studied?”

Liu Shi nodded slightly, as if embarrassed, “When I was at my natal home, I read a couple of books and learned a few characters.”

How modest!

Too modest!

Your bearing, your scholarly air—this is far more than just knowing a few characters. Li Dahong has incredible luck; a mere jailer managed to marry a woman from a scholarly family.

“Forgive me for asking, but did you and Brother Li get married through a matchmaker?” Chen Guanlou’s question would be ordinary in modern society, but in this ancient, ritual-bound world, it was exceedingly bold and abrupt.

But he was simply too curious.

He had spent little time with Liu Shi, yet enough to judge: this was a woman far beyond Li Dahong’s worth. In knowledge, cultivation, and social grace, she belonged to an entirely different class. Why would a beautiful, well-educated woman marry a man who couldn’t even read? There had to be a reason.

Liu Shi hesitated slightly before replying, “My father, on his deathbed, entrusted me to my husband. He helped me greatly; I had nothing to offer in return but my life.”

Hmm?

Chen Guanlou pressed, “May I ask your father’s name?”

“My father’s given name is Hui.”

Liu Hui? That name was unfamiliar. Chen Guanlou silently memorized it, planning to ask around later to see if anyone knew such a person.

When the Tianlaomiao jailers arrived, everyone divided tasks and quickly set up the mourning pavilion; Li Dahong’s body was brought back. Xiao Jin had thoughtfully bought ice to place inside the hall.

In this sweltering heat, the hall stayed cool—three days’ storage posed no problem.

White lanterns hung at the gate; now the neighbors all knew Li Dahong was dead and came to pay their respects. Chen Guanlou used the opportunity to inquire about Liu Shi’s background—her story matched what she’d said: married two years ago, no children yet. As for her origins, neighbors speculated, but none hit the truth. Some even guessed she’d once been a courtesan, rescued by Li Dahong. Yet Liu Shi’s conduct was impeccable—such rumors collapsed under scrutiny.

Midway, Chen Guanlou returned to Tianlaomiao to inquire. No one had heard of Liu Hui; no record existed in the archives. He’d assumed she was the daughter of a disgraced official—but he was wrong. Or perhaps he wasn’t wrong—just looking in the wrong place.

Not every disgraced official was imprisoned in Tianlaomiao. The Embroidered Uniform Guard held many as well.

He then found Lu Datou and asked, “Do you know a coroner who’s discreet, experienced, and skilled?”

“Why do you need a coroner?”

“Jiang Yucheng drowned drunk. Li Dahong drowned drunk. I’ve been thinking…”

“Don’t think. You’re giving me chills—even in this heat, I’m covered in goosebumps.” Lu Datou shuddered, rubbing his arms. “Why look far? We’ve got one right here in Tianlaomiao.”

“Tianlaomiao has one?” Chen Guanlou was stunned.

"Of course! Old Zhang from the Interrogation Room—his skills, his eyes? Even the Embroidered Uniform Guard sometimes call him in to examine corpses."

“Old Zhang is a coroner?”

Chen Guanlou was astonished. Old Zhang was the Interrogation Room’s top torturer, the master of the whip. Once he laid hands on a prisoner, within a day the man would confess even the tiniest childhood sins—like sneaking a peek at women bathing. Nothing escaped him. He was a nightmare.

Old Zhang knew he was feared, so he trained several apprentices and rarely showed up at Tianlaomiao—only appearing for major cases.

Chen Guanlou had once witnessed Old Zhang interrogating a prisoner. The methods… Since then, unless absolutely necessary, he refused to step into the Interrogation Room. It was too much for the nerves—any normal person who entered would be driven mad. He couldn’t imagine how Old Zhang had endured this for decades.

Lu Datou whispered, “You want to examine Li Dahong’s body? You suspect he was…”

“Isn’t his death sudden? And he’s got a beautiful wife at home—why would he wander out late at night?”

“What? Li Dahong’s wife is old and ugly—you’ve got it wrong.”

“You mean the old one—she’s long dead. I mean the new wife he just married. You’ll see—Li Dahong had incredible luck. By the way, have you heard of Liu Hui?”

Lu Datou, still stunned by the news of Li Dahong’s new wife, shook his head absently, “Never heard it. I didn’t even know he remarried.”

“Don’t blame you. Half the inmates in the Jia cells didn’t know either. He kept it secret. You really don’t remember his first wife dying?”

Lu Datou shook his head again, “How would I know? No one ever mentioned it. I play cards in the Jia cells all the time—nobody told me. Li Dahong was so greedy—when his first wife died, he didn’t even announce it? Didn’t collect any condolence money?”

Very strange.

Past matters aside for now.

Lu Datou went to fetch Old Zhang.

Lu Datou was a gambler with a dozen bad habits—but his connections were real.

Chen Guanlou had no confidence he could get Old Zhang to come. Lu Datou showed up with two pounds of pork and a jar of wine—and the man came.

When the three met, Old Zhang sighed, “Death is like a lamp going out. Datou told me you suspect Li Dahong’s death wasn’t natural.”

Chen Guanlou didn’t dodge the question: “Li Dahong was healthy, no illness, and had a beautiful wife. I just want to confirm whether he truly died from drunkenness and drowning. Please, Uncle Zhang, help me.”

Old Zhang studied him closely, as if remembering something—or nothing. He said bluntly, “You’re thoughtful. I heard you had a quarrel with Li Dahong just two days ago, yet you still seek the truth after his death. You’re an odd one—no wonder they call you an outsider. But have you considered the consequences if you uncover something? Can you bear them?”

“Uncle Zhang may misunderstand. I don’t intend to make a fuss—it’s Li family business. I only want to know the truth.”

“But often, it’s not what you want that matters—it’s what others allow. Have you thought that someone doesn’t want the truth found? It’s not too late to turn back. Finish the funeral, bury him, and it’s over. They’re a small family with no power—what good would the truth do even if you found it?”

“If men in Tianlaomiao must die, they deserve to know why.” Chen Guanlou said.

Old Zhang fell silent. He wanted to scold the youth for being naive—but looking into the man’s clear eyes, untouched by desire, uncorrupted by Tianlaomiao’s filth, every word of warning vanished in his throat.

Enough. Enough.

The world must still have a few who act not for the future, but from the heart.