Early evening, in the back room of Mo Yun Zhai.
Li Dagang furrowed his brow as he bent over his desk, writing furiously.
Following Zhang Yu's instructions, he was separating and transferring the businesses tied to the Marquis Estate.
Before long, everyone at the Marquis Estate would discover that the whole place was nothing but an empty shell.
Now that Zhang Yu's persona was already perfectly established, he had no intention of continuing to indulge the bloodsuckers at the Marquis Estate.
Beside Li Dagang, a young man in black fitted clothes lounged without a care on a grand armchair, one leg draped over its armrest. He held a wine gourd in one hand, now and then tilting his head back for a swig.
He was Mo Zhai, Zhang Yu's top fighter and one of the first trusted men to follow him. Though only twenty, he had already reached Sixth Rank Peak.
With Zhang Yu's wealth, he could easily afford to hire Ninth Rank Masters—even Innate Masters.
But his own cultivation was weak, so he didn't dare recruit anyone too powerful, lest they turn on him.
Instead, he chose to carefully cultivate loyal people, then send them out under the Marquis Estate's name.
Suddenly, the Message Jade Pendant beside Li Dagang lit up.
He looked down at it, and his expression immediately turned strange. Even the corner of his mouth twitched.
"What is it?"
Mo Zhai keenly noticed the change in Li Dagang's expression. He asked lazily, but his eyes had sharpened.
Li Dagang gave him a complicated look and handed over the note, his voice tinged with absurdity. "See for yourself... Someone's got their eye on the boss's 'chrysanthemum.'"
"Chrysanthemum?"
Mo Zhai froze. He took the jade pendant and read it, then broke into a vicious grin. "Interesting. Since the boss's younger brother wants to make the boss's chrysanthemum wither, why don't we let him experience what it's like to be left in pieces first?"
"Old Li, here's what you do..."
Mo Zhai whispered a few words to him. Li Dagang looked troubled. "Isn't that a bit much?"
The following day, at the Dali Temple Prison.
Most of the people held here were serious criminals, important offenders, or innocents caught up in major cases.
But the prison wasn't an unbroken stretch of misery.
Here, money and power could still pry open a crack and let in a little light of "humanity."
The section where Zhang Yu was held lay on the "paradise" side of this "hell-and-heaven" divide.
Thanks to the huge sum Li Dagang had paid in advance, Zhang Yu hadn't been thrown into one of the narrow, foul-smelling dormitory cells crammed with a dozen or even dozens of prisoners like most inmates.
He had a private little cell.
It was only about a zhang square, but compared with the crowded, filthy cells outside, it was already "VIP" treatment.
There was a reasonably clean wooden bed, laid with fresh bedding Li Dagang had sent in, and even a small wooden table and a stool.
At that moment, Zhang Yu was lounging on the padded wooden bed, his hands behind his head and one leg crossed over the other. He even had a blade of grass in his mouth, though no one knew where he'd found it.
"Mealtime!"
A jailer's lazy shout came from outside the cell, accompanied by the clank of chains and the scrape of a wooden bucket being dragged along.
Zhang Yu sat up at the sound.
Before long, a jailer with a fairly kindly face came over carrying two food boxes.
He didn't shove the food through the bars as he did with the other prisoners. Instead, he took out a key, opened the little hatch in the cell door, and passed the two food boxes in one after another.
"Master Zhang, your meal."
The jailer lowered his voice, a hint of ingratiation in it. "Just as you asked: light and tasty, all freshly cooked."
Zhang Yu nodded and took the food boxes.
When he opened them, he found a bowl of glistening white rice on top, with a plate of stir-fried vegetables, a plate of braised pork, and a bowl of chicken soup beneath. Golden oil shimmered on the soup, and its aroma wafted up.
This was the "home-style meal" that cost fifty taels of silver per serving.
In the Dali Temple Prison, as long as you had enough money and powerful enough connections, you could still enjoy food almost like what you'd get outside.
Zhang Yu ate at an unhurried pace. The curses and blows that broke out in the next cell over as prisoners fought for a little moldy gruel formed a jarring contrast.
Every so often, his gaze drifted toward another private cell across the aisle.
That was the only son of the Jing Prince's Estate, who was said to be a regular here.
His cell was even roomier than Zhang Yu's. It had not only a bed and table, but also a bookshelf and a tea set.
At that moment, the young prince was half-reclining on a brocade-covered couch. Two pretty, delicate-looking girls dressed as maids stood beside him: one fanned him while the other peeled grapes for him.
The curtain was drawn halfway, blocking most of the view, but the occasional teasing laughter and suggestive noises made it easy enough to guess what was happening inside.
With wealth and power, you could still drown yourself in wine and pleasure, even behind bars.
Zhang Yu leisurely ate his fifty-tael-a-meal "prison food." As he picked up the last piece of meat, his chopsticks suddenly paused—the bottom of the bowl seemed to hold something.
Without changing his expression, he nudged the rice grains aside with his chopsticks. His fingertips touched a small piece of oiled paper—Li Dagang's message.
"Even after I've been thrown into prison, my good little brother still won't leave me alone."
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