Chapter 92: A Woman

Keep watch until dawn, then change shifts.

Take direct leave and go home to sleep and rest. Tonight there’s the funeral fire ceremony, and everyone needs to lend a hand.

While Chen Guanlou was sound asleep, someone pounded violently on the courtyard gate, making him furious. He stormed open the door— it was a jailer from Tianlaomiao, telling him Li Dahong’s family had gathered a mob to cause chaos at the funeral hall and demanded he come over to uphold justice.

Chen Guanlou washed his face with cold water, finally waking up, and rushed straight to the Li household in his clothes.

When he arrived, where was everyone? Not a single Li family member was to be seen— only a group of jailers who had come to help.

He was baffled; the messenger jailer was even more confused.

He called over the veteran Xiao Jin and asked, “What happened? Weren’t you saying Li’s family gathered a mob to riot at the funeral hall? Where did they all go?”

Xiao Jin instinctively swallowed hard, clearly nervous and terrified, his face pale as if he’d been severely frightened.

He whispered to Chen Guanlou, “A group of unknown men showed up mid-ritual, wielding water-and-fire staves, and beat the Li family members to within an inch of their lives. They clearly recognized us jailers— didn’t lay a finger on us. When we tried to intervene, they just threatened us to stay out of it.”

“And then?” Chen Guanlou asked urgently, his heart harboring a hunch, yet doubting the man would act so brutally. Perhaps it was just his subordinates acting on their own.

Xiao Jin shuddered. “Someone shouted that officials were coming— the men shoved the Li family into several carts and hauled them all away at once. No one knows where they went.”

“They took everyone?”

Xiao Jin nodded repeatedly. “I saw it clearly— not one was left behind. All of them were stuffed into carts and taken away. Chen Tou, those men were terrifying, yet they didn’t smash or wreck the funeral hall— only beat the Li family. Their actions were swift, precise, well-organized— clearly not ordinary street thugs. More like…”

“Like what?”

“Like soldiers from a military camp— strict discipline, orders obeyed without question. Chen Tou, are we going to get dragged into some big trouble?”

Xiao Jin looked like a man afraid of death.

Chen Guanlou asked him, “Did Li Dahong’s wife, Liu Shi, show up?”

Xiao Jin shook his head. “Didn’t see her all day.”

“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”

“Really?” Xiao Jin still wasn’t reassured. “Chen Tou, what big shot did Li Dahong anger? I’m deeply uneasy.”

“Do you trust me? I say we’re safe— do you believe me?” Chen Guanlou stared at him, eyes brimming with absolute confidence.

Xiao Jin nodded instinctively. “Of course I trust Chen Tou.”

“Then trust me and keep guarding the funeral hall. Don’t worry— no one will come to cause trouble again. I’ll go see Liu Shi and ask what she needs. You watch over this place, keep everyone focused, and tonight we’ll feast at Guanmei Tower— the finest banquet available.”

“Got it!”

To win people over, good food and drink are essential. In this life, eating and drinking are everything. They worked hard, endured fright— they deserve a proper meal to calm their nerves. The money, of course, comes from the funeral offerings.

He went to the back courtyard’s flower pavilion and told a laboring old woman to notify Liu Shi he wished to speak with her.

Moments later, Liu Shi appeared, dressed entirely in mourning.

A woman looks most beautiful in mourning attire!

At that moment, Chen Guanlou finally understood the truth of that saying.

Liu Shi wore coarse hemp, her head draped in hemp cloth, a hemp rope tied at her waist, her feet shod in plain satin embroidered slippers— graceful, delicate, like a stream, like a river, like a crimson mole on the heart— soft, silent, gliding across his soul, leaving a faint trace he couldn’t bear to wipe away.

A tranquil stream moved the heart more than a raging river. He longed to cradle that stream in his palms, to play with it freely.

He suddenly snapped back to himself, cleared his throat to mask his inner turmoil.

“Sister-in-law, were you frightened? The Li family went too far.”

“Thank you, Chen Tou, for your concern. I’m fine— having endured it once, the second time was easier.” Liu Shi’s voice was light, like a feather brushing— no wonder the Crown Princess couldn’t tolerate her.

Chen Guanlou paused, then said, “It seems the one behind this has acted. Sister-in-law, your future is secure— congratulations.”

Liu Shi’s face was expressionless; she bit her thin lip, saying nothing.

Chen Guanlou knew it was daytime— he dared not speak further, lest walls had ears.

He cleared his throat again. “Li’s son hasn’t been found yet, but I’ve already sent word— news should come soon.”

“I’m deeply grateful for all your efforts these past two days. I have nothing to offer in return. When Da Lang returns, if he wishes to serve in the Tianlaomiao, I beg you to give him a helping hand.”

“That’s easily done!”

Li Dahong’s son serving in the Tianlaomiao was only natural.

“If Sister-in-law has nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

Liu Shi rose and bowed deeply.

Thus, they parted.

Afterward, no one caused further trouble; the funeral proceeded smoothly. But Li Dahong’s son remained missing— perhaps he had left the capital.

He thought he would never see Liu Shi again, unaware that the wheels of fate had already begun to turn.

With Li Dahong dead, the position of head of the Jia-class prison squad was vacant.

Fan Yuli ordered the remaining three squad heads to each recommend several candidates, saying he’d choose the best.

Chen Guanlou considered carefully, wrote down two names, then added Lu Datou’s name as a token.

The list was submitted.

He expected Fan Yuli to ask for opinions— after all, he was new, and hadn’t even met all the jailers. But Fan Yuli announced the new squad head outright: the big man Shi Hong.

When Chen Guanlou was appointed squad head, Shi Hong had been the most disruptive among the Jia-class jailers.

He hadn’t recommended Shi Hong; he asked the other two squad heads— they also denied recommending him. Shi Hong was talkative, trouble-prone, always seeking attention, and, relying on his size, had long acted as the self-appointed leader of the jailers.

“Found out: Shi Hong has a cousin, stunningly beautiful. Remember when Fan Yucheng took a concubine recently? Guess who she is?”

“Is she Shi Hong’s cousin?”

“Exactly! Didn’t think Shi Hong had the guts to give his cousin to Fan Yucheng as a concubine.”

“This man is a threat.”

“He gave up one cousin for a squad head position— isn’t that a bad deal?”

“You know nothing. First become squad head, make money, then get promoted— that’s the mature strategy.”

“Shi Hong’s ugly as sin— how beautiful could his cousin be?”

“If I had a sister, I’d give her to Fan Yucheng too.”

“If you had a sister, with your looks, she’d be lucky to wash his feet.”

“Even as a foot-washing maid is fine! At least you’re close to the source— who knows, maybe you’ll strike it rich someday.”

The jailers chattered— some sneered, some despised, but most were envious, jealous, and resentful.

They cursed themselves for not having a beautiful sister, for not being ruthless enough, for not knowing how to give the right gift. Sending silver? Pathetic. Only women were the elite strategy. As long as the sister remained favored, the benefits flowed endlessly.

I get it! I get it!

From now on, keep an eye out for pretty young girls— take them as adopted sisters.