"Dong Da? Hey, Dong Da?"
Zhang Sheng gave his dazed companion a hard shove and asked, puzzled, "What're you grinning about like an idiot?"
Dong Da snapped out of it and shook his head.
"Nothing. I just didn't sleep all night, I'm kinda out of it."
"Well, focus up. Those Liang cultivators are vicious. We've gotta stay sharp during patrol. If you see or hear anything off, report it immediately."
"I got it."
Dong Da nodded and followed a few steps behind Zhang Sheng, glancing left and right.
They were on patrol along the outer edge of the royal city. The buildings here stood in orderly rows, simple in design, mostly the residences of musicians from the Ministry of Rites.
People might not be familiar with the Ministry of Rites, which handled court music and ceremonies. But everyone had heard of its counterpart, the Office of Entertainment.
Both dealt with music and dance.
The Office of Entertainment served internal palace needs, complete with smoke, liquor, and decadence.
The Ministry of Rites, on the other hand, managed sacrificial and ceremonial performances, matters of the emperor's dignity.
Liang's Emperor, Su Yu, had refined tastes, he disdained vulgar entertainment and preferred elegant, highbrow performances.
As a result, much of what should've been the Office of Entertainment's responsibility was handed to the Ministry of Rites, nearly putting the former out of a job.
Chen Kuang had originally served as a minor official in the Grand Music Bureau, a subdivision of the Ministry of Rites. Though summoned and dismissed at will by nobles, his musician post still held an official rank, eighth grade.
Had he ever returned to the home where his parents blinded his eyes in exchange for a single bag of rice, that status would've been considered a proper "return in glory."
The residences here were all nearly identical and almost indistinguishable.
Luckily, the musician he questioned earlier had told him a useful identifying feature..
Both his and the Chief Musician's homes had a crabapple tree by the door, with branches so low they would always scrape his hair when passing.
Dong Da looked carefully.
About half of the houses had crabapple trees at the entrance, most now half-wilted, the ground covered in fallen red petals.
Dong Da: "..."
Why the hell did I believe that blind guy?!
Sure, maybe he knew there was a tree by his door, but how would he know about other people's?
This whole trip was a waste. Damn, this is unlucky!
He spat and muttered, Next shift, I'm gonna make that blind bastard pay.
Dong Da took a few quick steps, about to catch up to Zhang Sheng, but then he stopped short.
Looking again, he muttered, "Only a few homes have crabapples. Searching them all wouldn't take that long..."
Normally, patrol duty was assigned randomly from among the off-duty jailers, but today Dong Da had volunteered. The squad leader even praised him for being proactive.
The patrol route was fixed, but the timing was flexible... all he needed was someone to vouch for him.
Dong Da made up his mind and clutched his stomach, groaning loudly.
Zhang Sheng turned back in alarm:
"What's wrong? Trouble?"
Dong Da grimaced in pain.
"I... got the runs. Must've eaten something bad yesterday..."
Zhang Sheng frowned but didn't suspect anything.
"No wonder you've been weird all morning. What now?"
"I'll go take a dump in one of these houses. You go patrol first, I'll catch up in a bit."
"Well... alright."
Zhang Sheng cautioned him:
"Hurry up. I'll wait fifteen minutes, at maximum."
Dong Da nodded quickly.
As Zhang Sheng walked off, Dong Da dashed into a nearby residence and began rummaging wildly.
"Where is it... Golden cup, glass box. That blind guy sure had guts. What could a couple of musicians even be awarded with? You think you're the emperor's favorite or something?"
"If the emperor really liked him, would he be living in this dump? Who's the fool here?!"
He wasn't stupid. Dying men always talk nonsense, nine parts lie to one part truth.
Dong Da picked up a silver ingot and grinned smugly.
"But even if just one part is true, I still profit. If he didn't lie at all... I hit the jackpot."
Inside the hidden compartment under the bed, he found about fifty taels of silver. It wasn't the two hundred taels claimed, but still more than he expected.
Eyes gleaming, he stuffed one ingot into his robe and buried the rest.
Official silver was hard to fence, but lowlifes like him always had their own ways.
As he crawled out of the small cellar, a tattered cloth doll fell from the bed above.
The doll was old, clumsily patched, its stuffing of cotton and husks leaking out. Its original shape was unrecognizable.
Stupefy characters were sewn into its chest:
"Too poor to be worthy. Kuang'er, never come home."
"...What the hell is this garbage?"
Dong Da frowned and tossed it aside.
He sealed the cellar and checked the time, muttering:
"Forget the glass box. Bullshit. What kind of musician gets rewarded with imperial alchemy?"
He turned around, only to suddenly find a pitch-black figure blocking the door as blood-red eyes stared at him.
"You said... alchemy?"
Dong Da screamed, stumbling back in complete terror.
"B-B-Black Armor Guard?! I-I-I-I didn't do anything! I was just, just got the runs, looking for a toilet-"
The Black Armor Guard was not the same as the Black Armored Army. These twenty were Li Hongling's personal guards, the ones using spiritual senses to monitor the prison.
The guard stepped forward impatiently.
In a flash, Dong Da's arm flew through the air, blood splattering across the room.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!"
Sweating profusely, he shrieked,
"That musician said the Chief Musician was close to Emperor Liang and was once gifted a pill, it's in a glass box!"
The guard nodded. "Good."
Dong Da sighed in relief, then suddenly felt a cold gauntlet grip his head, lifting it upward.
Confused, he looked up... his vision rising... until his eyes met the crimson stare of the Black Armor Guard.
"Search the place."
The guard let go.
Dong Da's head hit the ground with a thud, rolling away.
Behind him, dozens of black-armored soldiers surged into the alley, beginning a door-to-door search.
Zhang Sheng, who had just left, was dragged back, and beheaded on the spot.
The Black Armor Guard seemed to remember something and ordered:
"This must not be leaked. Who are the jailers on duty today? That musician and... forget it. There are only fifteen of them. Kill them all."
He waved a hand, and his men respectfully backed away.
Chen Kuang held the bowl of broth-soaked rice and felt a scorching-hot gaze locked onto him like a spotlight.
He glanced sideways. Sure enough, a squat little figure was pressed up against the bars, eyes glinting eagerly.
Gulp.
She swallowed her saliva.
The cell echoed. The slurp practically reverberated.
Chen Kuang couldn't help but chuckle. He looked down at the rice bowl, then sighed in mock disappointment:
"Ah... there's a bug in my soup. How am I supposed to eat this now? I don't have much of an appetite anyway. I might as well throw it out."
He began fumbling around, feigning blindness.
"But where to dump it? I still need to sleep here. This prison should at least provide a slop bucket."
From the side, a small voice chimed in solemnly:
"Here, here. The slop bucket's right here."
"There is? Where?"
"You can't see, so I'll guide you. Take three steps forward, then slide a little to the right."
"Oh..."
Chen Kuang walked over, trying not to laugh as he stared straight ahead at the solemn-faced little girl.
She tilted her head up, staring intently at the bottom of his bowl.
Then she took one small step to the side, perfectly aligned, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Okay. Right here. You can pour now."
Chen Kuang tilted the bowl, letting the thin broth trickle out like a waterfall.
The toddler-stage slop bucket lit up with joy, tilting her head back and opening her mouth wide to catch it.
She had a rare talent, without even closing her lips, her throat pulsed a few times, and she swallowed all of it cleanly.
Lady Liang stared, stunned.
One was bold enough to dump.
The other, bold enough to catch.
She was speechless.