Imperial henchmen? My divine skills are all hacked versions.

Mo Feichang stood with his hands in his sleeves, staring expressionlessly at the glazed tiles on the palace walls.

"Whether you believe it or not is unimportant. Just listen to what His Majesty says. Isn't everything alright now? I was reinstated, all thanks to you solving the child murder case. You received a hundred taels of gold, enough for your sister to buy candied hawthorns for years. What more could you want?"

Xu Xian lowered his head and remained silent for a long time, then let out a cold laugh.

"It's great. Some got promoted, some got rich, Shen Tai was cleared of suspicion, the Gu Master is dead, the case is closed, and everyone is happy."

He looked up at the hurried passersby outside the palace walls. Some were carrying vegetable baskets to the early market, some were drawing water from the well, and some were setting up tables and chairs in front of the teahouse.

Those people's children wouldn't be captured to make Gu poison, and they wouldn't know that there were once seventeen tiny corpses in the backyard of the dye house.

All they knew was that it was a cloudy day and it might rain, so they should bring an umbrella when they went out.

"I am all alone, with only one younger sister, and I have enough money. If my reward can save Shen Tai's life and bring justice—"

He turned to look at Mo Feichang, his expression calm, "I'm willing to live without a salary for the rest of my life."

Mo Feichang paused, glanced at him, and continued walking forward.

"There's not much justice in the world, especially for ordinary people. Don't overthink it; overthinking will only exhaust you."

Xu lowered his head and said "Oh".

"You've had a tough time these past two days. Your injuries haven't healed at all. If you keep fighting like this, you'll become the first officer in our Inspection Division to die in the line of duty. I'm giving you three days off to rest. You can go drinking at Taibai Tower or go shopping, it's up to you."

Xu Xian thanked him, and Mo Feichang waved and walked towards the headquarters, his figure growing farther and farther away in the morning mist.

...

The lanterns of Taibai Tower shone brightly red in the night. Xu Xian and his group occupied a private room by the window on the second floor. The round table was littered with cups and plates, and three or four wine pots were overturned.

Yang Xu's left arm was still in a sling around his neck, and he was holding a wine glass in his right hand, his face and neck flushed from drinking.

Lu Jing sat by the window, the three bloody scratches on his face from the child's bite now scabbed over, which, against his fair complexion, gave him a touch of江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry).

Old Feng placed his riding whip on the corner of the table and was humming a little tune while tapping the rim of his bowl with his chopsticks.

Zhang Hu and Zhao Bao sat together, one with his head down peeling peanuts, the other raising a wine glass to drink with Yang Xu.

After a few rounds of drinks, Yang Xu slammed his hand on the table, causing the cups and plates to jump.

"Tsk! That brat Shen Tai is being protected by the Emperor! We've been investigating for over half a month, and every single piece of evidence is irrefutable. Every single piece of information clearly came from his Fourth Prince's residence!"

"And look what happened! Qiu Bojun's Word of Power and the Pharmacist's drop of blood wiped it all out! I've been chasing this case all this time, my left arm was dislocated, my ribs were almost broken, and several brothers lost their lives, and in the end, all I got was a 'completely unaware' statement? Who the hell believes that?!"

"Keep your voice down."

Old Feng put down his chopsticks and glanced out the window.

"Tsk... What are you afraid of! Every word I said was the truth!"

Yang Xu slammed his wine glass down on the table.

"The Investigation Department's work is all about evidence! If the evidence is conclusive, what's the point of a trial? If you're going to try anything, just throw him in our inner palace prison—I guarantee he'll vomit up even the few candies he stole as a child within an hour!"

Lu Jing chuckled, picked up his wine glass, and slowly swirled the stem.

  

"Do you think you're the one who can torture a prince? He's a prince, the most favored one at that. What's killing a few people? They're just commoners' children, not some young master or lady from a general's mansion..."

"What's a little money? Of the three million taels of tax silver, two hundred thousand were spent, and more than two million are still missing. Did His Majesty ask? No, why? He doesn't care."

Xu Xian glared at the two of them and slammed his wine glass on the table.

"Do you have nine heads? How dare you say such things in a restaurant? The Imperial Guards often come downstairs, and the person sitting next to us might be a spy from the Imperial Household Department. You don't care about your lives, but I still need to keep my head to buy candied hawthorns for Hua Xi."

"Come on, let's not propose any more ideas..."

Old Feng quickly took over the conversation, picked up his wine glass, and stood up.

"Let's drink! Xu Xiaoqi is right. Once we leave the headquarters, no one is allowed to mention Shen Tai's name again. Tonight, we'll only talk about drinking. Whoever makes a suggestion will be punished with three drinks!"

Yang Xu tilted his head back and gulped down a glass, then slammed the empty glass on the table and let out a long sigh.

"Tsk, if only I had the literary talent of those plague-ridden Confucian scholars. They can curse without using a single swear word. They could write a poem about your situation and post it on Zhuque Street. The entire court would know who they're cursing, but they wouldn't be able to find a single fault with it. Hehe, that would be really fun..."

"Unlike us roughnecks, all we do is bang on the table and curse, and after we're done cursing, we have to hide from people and curse back. It's so frustrating."

Xu Xian paused for a moment, holding his wine glass, a slight smile playing on his lips. "What's so difficult about that? Bring me pen and ink, and I'll write one for you."

There was a moment of silence on the table.

The peanut Zhao Bao was peeling was suspended in mid-air.

"Brother Xu, don't overdo it. I've been with you in Iron Gate Pass for so many years, and I've never seen you write a poem. You even have Zhang Hu write the official documents for you."

Zhang Hu nodded in agreement, popping a peanut into his mouth. "That's right, Brother Xu's handwriting is...on par with mine!"

Everyone laughed.

Lu Jing smiled, his eyes crinkling as he held his wine glass. "Xu Xiaoqi, your poetic talent is still not as good as Master Mo's. At least Master Mo can write neatly, although his poems aren't that great either."

"Will you look or not?"

Xu put his wine glass on the table, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. "I won't write if you don't read it."

Yang Xu laughed heartily and slammed his chopsticks on the table.

"Look! Of course I'll look! Even if you write something like what Lord Sizheng did, I'll accept it! Here, bring me pen and ink!"

He yelled at the door, "Waiter! Bring me pen and ink! And another pot of wine!"

When the servant brought in the writing implements, there was already an empty space on the table.

Xu first spread out the paper, picked up the pen, and the way he held the pen made Lu Jingzhi frown.

His fingers were stiff as if he were holding a knife handle, and the calligraphy brush looked awkward in his hand.

He dipped his brush in ink and held it on the paper for a moment.

Yang Xu leaned closer to see him hesitate to write, and was about to speak when Xu began to write.

Behind the red gates, meat and wine go to waste; on the roads, the bones of those frozen to death lie...

That year, there was a drought in the Jiangnan region, and people in the capital resorted to cannibalism.

Twenty characters, crookedly written on the paper, the ink still wet.

After writing the last two characters, Xu Xian placed the pen on the pen holder. "How is it?"

No one spoke in the private room anymore.

Yang Xu stared at the words on the paper with his mouth agape for a long while, then suddenly chuckled.

"Tsk... Behind the red gates, meat and wine go to waste, while on the streets, frozen corpses lie..."

"I don't understand poetry, but I can read this! Who are the powerful figures behind the scenes? Whether they're the big shots or just nobody, they can do whatever they want..."

"Seven of our brothers died, and seventeen children are stranded in the dyehouse—this is the true meaning of 'the rich feast while the poor freeze to death on the streets!'"

Lu Jing picked up the manuscript and read it word by word by candlelight.

He was literate and had a penchant for the arts, occasionally writing a few strokes on a fan.

He looked at Xu Xian's scrawled handwriting, then at the ten powerful verses, and his fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the paper.

"Xu Xiaoqi..."

He put down the poem manuscript. "Does this poem have a title?"

"Call it 'Light and Fat'!"

Xu Xian picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and looked somewhat dazed.

When he read this poem on Earth in his previous life, his reaction was similar to Yang Xu's. He didn't analyze the tones and parallelism, nor did he check the allusions and sources. He was simply overwhelmed by those ten characters.

These ten words encapsulate all the injustices of the world.

When Du Fu wrote this poem, he was probably in a similar situation to him now, sitting in a drafty, dilapidated house, with the sounds of music and revelry coming from the red gates outside the window, and the white bones of starving people before his eyes.

Lu Jing snatched the poem from Yang Xu's hands, carefully folded it, and tucked it into his bosom.

"This poem is mine. I'll have it framed and hung in my main hall. But when someone copies it, I'll have to find someone with better handwriting. Xu Xian's handwriting is really not good enough to be framed."

"Don't give it back to me."

"want!"

Lu Jing clutched his chest. "Who said I didn't want it! So what if my handwriting is ugly? Ugly handwriting is still poetry! If you have a problem with that, go take the imperial examination and come back before you complain about your ugly handwriting!"

Zhang Hu was silently peeling peanuts beside him. After peeling two, he suddenly looked up and asked a question.

"Brother Xu, will your two lines of poetry reach the palace?"

Old Feng chuckled softly.

"It's good that it's passed on, so that those who should see it can see it. Lord Mo said that poetry is better than a sword; a sword can only kill one person, but poetry can kill a generation! That's why he has always loved poetry and literature, but unfortunately, his level is really..."

After drinking two more glasses, Yang Xu threw the glass on the table.

"Xu Xian, we've written poems and drunk wine, but just drinking isn't enough. Didn't you say you were going to take us to experience some... Shang-related culture?"

"Business K Culture." Xu Xian downed the last sip of his drink in one gulp.

"Yes, yes, this is it."

Yang Xu's eyes lit up. "What kind of culture is this? Is it related to this place?"

"It's very important."

Xu Xian stood up, walked to the door of the private room, and called downstairs, "Madam!"