After a long while, hurried, uneven footsteps sounded. Han Anbo rushed through the door, braced himself against the table, and gasped for breath.
"Brother Zheng, what happened?"
Zheng Hui recounted what had happened.
Han Anbo frowned as he analyzed the situation. "In the past, our Night Guard would have gone straight over and demanded his release, but doing that now would hand them something to use against us. That man found a complainant and came prepared. He set a trap and waited for us to walk into it. He took your money but wouldn't say a word. I suspect he wants more than revenge. He wants to 'put you in the pot and render out your oil,' squeezing you dry bit by bit, then releasing Big Official only when there's nothing left to squeeze."
"I'll smash my pots and sell the iron if I have to!" Zheng Hui said.
Han Anbo sighed. "Brother Zheng, your worry has clouded your judgment. You think selling everything you own will be enough, but this is putting you in a pot and rendering out your oil. Once you've sold your pots, they'll make you sell your house and land. Once those are gone, they'll force you into debt. When you can't repay it, they'll force you to sell yourselves into servitude. Those officials, merchants, and landlords are masters of this craft. They've passed it down for generations."
Zheng Hui clenched his teeth.
The method sounded familiar to Li Qingxian, as though he had seen it somewhere before.
"Brother Han, do you know anyone in the West District Military and Horse Bureau?" Li Qingxian asked.
"I know a few people, but their ranks aren't high. The man we're dealing with is eighth rank. An ordinary seventh-rank official might not be able to keep him in