novelraw Chapter 27 : Chapter 27
Chapter 27 : Chapter 27
Chapter 27: Inner Prison
Morning in Luocheng brimmed with life, streets bustling with people.
Ox carts headed to East Market, clogging narrow paths. Drivers chewed pancakes, grumbling and shouting for room.
Laughter, curses, and vendors’ calls filled the air.
You’d never guess the city’s centuries-long decline—it seemed frozen in its glorious peak.
In Taiping Clinic, I, Chen Ji, stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled, weighing herbs for patients with a clean smile. No one would link me to “catching spies.”
Elsewhere, Old Man Yao tested our studies.
She Dakang sat upright, eyes closed, taking a patient’s pulse. Old Man Yao, bamboo stick in hand, asked sternly: “Quick, what’s the pulse?”
She Dakang, fingers on the wrist, ventured: “Flood pulse?”
Smack! The stick hit his back, startling the middle-aged patient across the counter.
Old Man Yao signaled the patient to stay calm, asking again: “What pulse?”
She Dakang grimaced: “Solid pulse!”
Smack! Another hit!
“Deep pulse!” She Dakang blurted.
Smack! Another!
The patient stood, grabbing Old Man Yao: “Stop hitting the kid! Calm down, Physician Yao. I’ll take deep pulse, fine!”
Old Man Yao turned slowly, speechless: “…If he diagnosed a pregnancy pulse, you’d accept that too?!”
He scanned me and Liu Quxing, pondering who to thrash next, but his gaze stopped at the door.
A small black cat weaved through the crowd outside, cautiously dodging footsteps.
At the clinic’s entrance, Dark Cloud peered over the threshold, meeting Old Man Yao’s gaze.
Old Man Yao stared expressionlessly. My heart tightened—Master didn’t seem fond of animals. Would he shoo Dark Cloud away?
But Dark Cloud, shrinking under his stare, mustered courage, crossed the threshold, and crept closer.
It leapt onto the counter, lying on Old Man Yao’s hand!
He froze, his stern face softening into a wrinkled smile. She Dakang, Liu Quxing, and I stared—first time we’d seen Master so gentle!
So the old man could smile!
He caught himself, stern again, saying flatly: “This little thing’s quite likable.”
Liu Quxing reached to pet Dark Cloud. Old Man Yao swatted his hand: “Get lost!”
Liu Quxing: “…”
Dark Cloud nuzzled Old Man Yao’s hand. He paused, then said to She Dakang: “Fetch my purple wooden box.”
He tapped Dark Cloud’s head lightly: “You’re Dark Cloud, right?”
My pupils shrank, heart gripped with tension.
Only I and Dark Cloud knew that name. How did Old Man Yao know? Did he know everything?
I recalled his fetching me from the Zhou residence, pulling me back during the Buddha parade, the Evening Star Courtyard visit—each seemed laden with meaning.
As I pondered, Old Man Yao glanced at me, his look piercing.
He turned back to Dark Cloud. She Dakang asked: “Master, that’s Evening Star Courtyard’s cat, right? You haven’t been to the mansion in ages—how’d you know its name?”
Old Man Yao shot him a look: “I divined it. Got a problem?”
Liu Quxing blinked: “You can divine that? Divine my childhood nickname.”
Old Man Yao pulled six copper coins from his sleeve, tossed them calmly, and said to Liu Quxing: “Your nickname was ‘Weakwit.’”
I: “…”
Liu Quxing: “…”
She Dakang brought the purple box, opening a drawer filled with delicate pastries.
Liu Quxing exclaimed: “Zhengxin Studio’s pastries!”
Old Man Yao held one out to Dark Cloud: “Eat.”
Dark Cloud devoured it, eyeing the box.
Old Man Yao, unstinting, offered another: “Liking pastries is good. Dumb cats only eat meat; smart ones know pastries’ worth.”
Dark Cloud finished, then darted to lie by me, showing no attachment.
Old Man Yao, unoffended, brushed pastry crumbs into his mouth.
He looked at me: “It likes you.”
He resumed testing She Dakang.
I whispered to Dark Cloud: “Why come during the day?”
Dark Cloud replied: “Consort Jing left the mansion for somewhere unknown. Evening Star Courtyard’s unsupervised—maids are slacking—so I came to play!”
I smiled: “Stay here, then. I’m weighing herbs for patients.”
A richly dressed middle-aged man entered, holding a prescription: “Physician Yao, I’m here for medicine, but I rushed out and forgot enough money. Can I take the herbs for my mother’s treatment and send an apprentice to my house for payment? I’ll give the apprentice twenty wen for the trip.”
Old Man Yao glanced at the prescription: “These herbs aren’t cheap. Sure you’ve got the money?”
The man nodded: “Certain!”
Liu Quxing jumped: “Master, I’ll go!”
Old Man Yao smirked: “Trying to dodge my tests? Chen Ji, you go!”
Liu Quxing’s face fell, watching me leave.
At the door, the man led me to a carriage.
Inside, he peeled off his fake mustache and wrinkles, revealing Yunyang: “You sent word you want to visit the Inner Prison?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Liu Shiyu’s case isn’t simple—not just his doing. There’s a bigger fish.”
“You’re volunteering to earn me merit? Short on cash?” Yunyang eyed me suspiciously. “You just got fifty taels—enough for a month in Red Cloth Lane. Don’t tell me you went to White Cloth Lane? A word of advice: those Yangzhou slim horses, trained in arts and charm, aren’t for apprentices like you.”
I smiled: “Lord Yunyang, aren’t you happy I’m helping you earn merit? If you rise high, maybe you’ll get me a post in the Secret Spy Division.”
Yunyang didn’t comment: “You think other Liu family members are involved?”
“I’d need to see to know.”
He pulled out a black blindfold: “Close your eyes. The Inner Prison’s location is secret—you can’t know it. Ears plugged too.”
Eyes closed, ears stuffed, my world silenced. Luocheng’s bustle felt distant.
Yunyang lifted the curtain to drive. The carriage rolled along the bluestone, unnoticed by all, a small black cat perched on its roof, swaying south.
Old Man Yao paused his tests, hands behind his back, watching the carriage leave, lost in thought.
…
…
“We’re here!”
Yunyang removed my earplugs, tugging me off. He saw me pull a gray cloth to cover my mouth and nose, smirking: “Pretty cautious.”
I smiled: “This Luocheng Inner Prison must be riddled with Liu family spies—how else did they learn of Liu Shiyu’s death so fast? Investigating their case here demands caution. Speaking of… doesn’t it anger you that the Secret Spy Division’s prison is so infiltrated?”
Yunyang sneered: “Last night, those Luocheng jailers were all exiled to Lingnan. These are new hands from elsewhere.”
Blindfolded, I stumbled as Yunyang pulled me along, hearing only bird calls in the quiet.
At an iron gate, Yunyang knocked three times fast, two slow. The gate creaked open, grating like rusted iron.
A young spy waited inside.
Yunyang said: “Take off the blindfold.”
I opened my eyes, shielding them from the light, squinting.
A narrow staircase sloped deep underground.
Every fifteen steps, an oil-slag lamp hung on the wall, like soul-guiding lanterns, each base etched with a yin Bagua pattern. I asked curiously: “What’s with these Baguas?”
Yunyang recalled: “Seven years ago, the Inner Minister found an Enforcer skilled in Qimen Dunjia who drew them in every Inner Prison. They say… one lamp, one cell. With the Bagua, the lamp burns, the prisoner lives.”
I frowned: “What’s that mean?”
Yunyang shrugged: “How would I know?”
The young spy led us underground to a stone-walled corridor stretching into darkness, cells embedded in the walls.
As we appeared, prisoners gripped bars, crying: “Lord, I’m innocent! I’ve no ties to Jing Dynasty spies. My mother’s over sixty, with two kids to feed—please let me go!”
Pleas echoed, but Yunyang ignored them: “Come, the records are inside.”
I took a step, then froze.
In the dim prison, two gray-white icy currents flew from a cell, entering my body through my forehead.
Yunyang turned: “What’s wrong?”
I kept my face calm: “Nothing. First time in the Inner Prison—seeing these haggard prisoners is unsettling.”
Yunyang smiled: “Scared me at first too. You’ll get used to it.”
I stepped forward, following him deeper. Gray-white icy currents streamed from cells, surging toward me like dragons in the air.
Stunned, I watched hundreds of currents enter my forehead, merging in my dantian.
The icy flow’s force was so immense, it threatened to douse my furnaces!