Chapter 91

“Grateful? Of course I’m grateful.”

Liu Shi spoke with sincere emotion.

She lowered her head slightly. “As long as one lives, there is hope. As long as one lives, there is a future, isn’t there?”

“But you and Li Dahong—between you two…”

“You’ve misunderstood, Chen Tou. My husband may be a rough man, but he treated me with genuine heart. Though I’m not clever, I can tell true feeling from false. He held me in his palms, yet I killed him—I deserve to die!”

Liu Shi suppressed her emotions, weeping against the arched gate, tears like pear blossoms in the rain. A delicate narcissus, waiting to be crushed. One could not help but harbor a perverse desire to torment her to death.

So evil!

This woman was entirely different from Liu She’s wife. Yet Liu Shi was far more likely to drive men mad—she possessed a peculiar, broken beauty. One could not help but wish to watch her weep, to see her suffer, and feel immense satisfaction from it.

Perhaps the Crown Prince himself felt this same thing—and perhaps that was why Li Dahong died.

Her beauty was frail, something meant to be broken, evil, a manifestation of humanity’s deepest dark desire.

Chen Guanlou tightly shut his eyes, took a deep breath, silently recited the incantation of the Ascension Scripture, and finally suppressed the agitation in his heart.

He kindly added a warning: “Try not to cry in public, especially not in front of men.”

His words, in this era, were shockingly forward and utterly inappropriate—completely over the line.

Liu Shi froze in place, then realized what he meant, her ears turning crimson. She quickly lowered her head, too ashamed to look up, her voice barely a whisper: “Thank you, Chen Tou, for the reminder. I—I…”

“What are your plans now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try to contact the Crown Prince! He’s probably been watching you all along. Don’t reach out to anyone connected to the Crown Princess.”

Liu Shi bit her lip, sorrowful: “I can’t go back. The Emperor won’t tolerate me.”

“At least the Crown Prince can arrange a place for you outside the palace, so you live in comfort. You don’t want to be bullied by a crowd of stinking men, do you? Only the Crown Prince can protect you.”

“But I no longer deserve to serve beside the Crown Prince,” Liu Shi said, her gentle, helpless demeanor breaking hearts.

“Then have the Crown Prince arrange your future—marry someone, become a nun, live independently—it’s all just a word from him.”

Chen Guanlou took a deep breath, telling himself to stay calm, calm. “Don’t reveal your past again. Go rest early. Goodbye!”

He turned to leave.

But Liu Shi called out after him: “Chen Tou, you’re a good man! My husband once mentioned you—he said you conduct yourself with principle. When he faced trouble, he’d rather beg you for help than turn to those pig-friends of his.”

Chen Guanlou turned back to look at her. “Good men don’t live long. Don’t be a good man.”

Liu Shi stared blankly, confused. How could someone be good, yet warn others not to be good—and say good men don’t live long? Wasn’t that cursing himself?

Chen Guanlou always felt he could never understand this woman. If she were a naive, sweet fool, how could she have survived? Even after falling from grace, Li Dahong had held her in his palms, sparing her all hardship, letting her escape unscathed. What incredible luck! What incredible wisdom!

If she were a deeply calculating woman, then she was too good an actress—she had fully embodied the role of the naive fool, never arousing suspicion, making others willingly take on her burdens, terrified she’d suffer even a single slight. Li Dahong had even driven away his own son for her, and given his life for her.

Chen Guanlou stripped away all desire, stepped outside the circle, and viewed this woman from a godlike perspective: her beauty was unbelievable, her luck was unbelievable, her cunning was unbelievable. All her family was dead; her brothers suffered in mines thousands of miles away—yet she alone continued to enjoy wealth and comfort, still remembered by the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince’s lingering interest in Liu Shi was pure speculation. But Chen Guanlou firmly believed his deduction matched reality. The Crown Princess wished to humiliate Liu Shi—she had no need to kill Li Dahong. As long as Li Dahong lived, Liu Shi remained merely the wife of a jailer—a status so low, in the eyes of nobles, it was the perfect way to humiliate her.

Only the Crown Prince could not tolerate Liu Shi remaining by Li Dahong’s side, still as his wife. Li Dahong had enjoyed the pleasure of a beauty—he died without regret.

Liu Shi was too soft, too seductive—she unleashed humanity’s deepest, darkest desires: to destroy her, to torment her, to witness the beauty of her broken suffering!

Chen Guanlou resolved: he must stay far away from this dangerous woman.

Guarding the brazier, the firelight flickered across his face, casting it alternately bright and dark.

Lu Datou yawned. “Why were you gone so long? Did you find the thief?”

Chen Guanlou shook his head, sat on the stool, and fell silent.

“How about a game of cards? The night’s long and unbearable. Li Dahong loved noise—he wouldn’t mind.”

“Playing cards in front of a funeral altar? Only you could think of that,” Chen Guanlou retorted.

“What’s wrong with that? Li Dahong wasn’t some refined type. He’d be thrilled watching us play—might even stand beside us and place bets.”

Lu Datou grew more excited, eager to set up a table already. He began rummaging through his pockets, checking how much silver he’d brought.

Chen Guanlou teased him: “Not afraid anymore? Earlier you were terrified—now you’ve got the guts to play cards?”

“I’ve figured it out. Even if Li Dahong became a ghost, he’d be a ghost who loves cards. I cater to his taste—why should I fear him? He’d thank me for letting him play cards even after death.”

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew—the firelight flickered, and the shadows on the wall shifted.

Lu Datou screamed suddenly: “I told you! Li Dahong’s thrilled—he’s sending us a sign! Come on, let’s play paijiu! Ten cash a hand—no cheating!”

No one responded.

Lu Datou: …

He could only play alone, quietly, yet still with great delight.

Old Zhang seemed burdened with thoughts, his smoke tasting dull. Chen Guanlou tossed paper money into the brazier. “Relax. Everything’s fine.”

Old Zhang gave him a long look. “Is this favor granted from above?”

Chen Guanlou nodded, but said nothing.

The only confused person was Lu Datou. “What are you two whispering about? Am I the only fool here?”

“You’re a filthy gambler—why do you need to know so much? Lose a bet, and your mouth opens wide—you’ll blab everything.” Old Zhang cursed harshly.

Lu Datou protested: “Old Zhang, you old cabbage, wanna spar?”

“You?” Old Zhang sneered, his gaze full of contempt. “That flabby body of yours? You wouldn’t last a single strike from me. One slash from my blade, and you’d bleed. If it were Chen Tou, maybe he could last a few moves.”

“Old Zhang, you flatter me too much,” Chen Guanlou said humbly.

“Don’t be modest, Chen Tou—I know you’re a martial practitioner.”