Chapter 99: The Old Emperor

Chen Guanlou briefly recounted his recent experiences, then sighed, “I was naive back then, thinking being a jailer would be easy. Now I know, it’s hard to survive long in this line.”

Master Du set down his cup and fell silent for a moment. “Every profession has its difficulties. Outsiders don’t know the truth—they just guess blindly. The official you mentioned, Yu Zhaoan, sounds narrow-minded and vengeful. You must be careful.”

“Do you know Yu Zhaoan?”

“How could I possibly know someone of his stature? But once, in the Master’s study, I saw the name Yu Zhaoan written down.”

Chen Guanlou wasn’t surprised at all. He had long suspected Liu Guanshi was secretly colluding with Yu Zhaoan—he just never spoke of it.

Officially, Liu Guanshi served the second branch, but who could swear he didn’t also work for the Master? Men like him, chief stewards of the Hou Fu, always keep a backdoor open.

“Are you wondering whether Yu Zhaoan might be colluding with the Hou Fu, secretly plotting something?”

“Don’t you dare say such things. Never say such things!” Master Du turned pale, waving his hands frantically. But after drinking, he couldn’t hold back his tongue. He had just denied it when he whispered again, “Years ago, the Master openly and firmly supported the Crown Prince. But since breaking his leg, he hasn’t set foot in the Donggong—not once for any festival or holiday. Now that you mentioned Yu Zhaoan, I can’t help but wonder: has the Master lost faith in the Donggong?”

“Why lose faith? Most officials still support the Crown Prince—he’s the rightful heir.”

“You’re in the Tianlaomiao—you don’t hear what’s happening above. But I once overheard a few muttered words: the Crown Prince is becoming more and more like the Emperor.”

“You mean the Crown Prince is as cold and unfeeling as the Emperor.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Master Du’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He jumped up, rushed to the door, and peered out. The old servant was in the kitchen; no one was in the courtyard. Only then did he relax.

He patted his chest, gasping. “Your mouth has no lock—you say anything that comes to mind. Do you know what would happen if this conversation got out? You might end up in the Zhao Yu. That’s the best case. Worse—you and I wouldn’t even get that far. We’d just be silenced outright.”

Chen Guanlou laughed. “Relax, Master. I’m not some reckless fool. I made sure no one was around—this place is safe. And I trust you won’t spread what we’ve said.”

“My lips are sealed.” Master Du snorted. “How can you be sure no one’s listening?”

“I’ve trained in Wu Gong for years. I can’t claim much, but my senses are sharp. This house has only three people—us two and the old servant.”

“Good, good.” Master Du exhaled in relief. “This capital has everything—but you must watch every word and step. The Embroidered Uniform Guard’s spies are everywhere. There could be one even in the Hou Fu.”

Chen Guanlou agreed fully. “Of course. Emperors all suffer from paranoia. They’ll plant spies in their ministers’ households to watch every move. Or they’ll bribe servants to record every word and action of the masters.”

“So we must be careful even in private.” Master Du still trembled. “If you think Yu Zhaoan is dangerous, stay far from him. Don’t try to outwit officials. Even as a prisoner, he still pulls strings. The power they wield is beyond our comprehension. Caution is always wise.”

“Master, your words show wisdom befitting a statesman. I toast you.” Chen Guanlou flattered him. “It’s a pity such talent as yours never entered officialdom.”

Master Du beamed, bowing in false modesty. “I’m not fit for office. My meager skills would land me right back in the Tianlaomiao. You said it well earlier: the end of every official’s path is the Tianlaomiao—I’ll remember that. You—you have insight, you give warnings—why waste your life in a jail?”

“The Tianlaomiao is easy to survive in.”

“But the pay’s dropped now. You don’t mind?”

“It’s temporary. Income will return to its old level. Yu Zhaoan’s character is rotten, but his analysis has merit.” Chen Guanlou lowered his voice, whispering, “I’m not in court, I don’t feel the upper echelons’ movements. But the recent silence among the imprisoned officials—unlike their usual noise—suggests Yu Zhaoan’s prediction may come true. These officials always cause trouble, just for the sake of it. Now they’re unnervingly cooperative. Something big is coming.”

Master Du gasped, startled.

He grew tense. “Could a coup really happen? Will the Hou Fu be dragged into it?”

“You’re wondering if the Master will join the coup? Don’t worry—he hasn’t attended court in years, hasn’t meddled in state affairs. Even if he were somehow persuaded to join, he’d never show his face. At most, he’d have underlings raise flags and signal support.”

“I hope so.” Master Du sighed. “I’ve noticed the Master is restless after years of stillness. I fear his pent-up anger will erupt suddenly. Ah—the court is unstable, and we common folk suffer. The Emperor was once wise and mighty, universally praised as a sage ruler. But now, old and confused, he’s obsessed with Daoist cultivation for immortality. Immortality doesn’t exist.”

Chen Guanlou: …

A living immortal stood right before him—but Master Du had no idea.

The only immortal in the world, Chen Guanlou felt a quiet joy—and loneliness. No one to share it with. He had to keep his secret hidden.

“Was the old Emperor tricked? Why suddenly turn to Daoist cultivation for immortality?” Chen Guanlou asked.

Master Du shook his head. “I don’t know for sure. I’ve heard rumors—he dreamed of a god one night, and then began cultivating for immortality.”

“One dream—and he started cultivating for immortality? That rumor makes no sense.” Chen Guanlou didn’t believe it—it was absurd.

No one, especially not an Emperor with the world’s greatest resources, would change so drastically overnight because of a dream.

Master Du shook his head again. “That’s the rumor, anyway. Even if there’s more to it, it’s beyond the sight of people like us.”