52 I Can Still Live as Long as Heaven Tolerates Me (2/2)
”If you keep on finding fault with the brothel, I can't guarantee for the deceased censor's reputation. After all, someone saw him run out of the brothel and he was drunk at the time.”
Shangguan Yangyu looked at her sternly and said, ”The censor was visiting a prostitute. If it's known by the Imperial Court, he might be removed from his official position, even though he's dead. Then you couldn't get any subsidies or compensates. All of your efforts would be in vain.”
The censor's wife asked, full of fear, ”Then, then... What should I do? What if I gave up accusing?”
”The problem is that your action has already been spread out. However, if you can settle with the owner of the brothel and stop the information from being further broadcast to the palace, especially Her Majesty, perhaps everything will work out.”
”Then let's do it!” The censor's wife had already run out of ideas. She asked with her shriveled face full of confusion and nervousness, ”How do you think I should settle with the owner?”
Shangguan Yangyu smiled. Knowing that he would get a sum of money right away, he couldn't help but feel every pore on his body relax and open. The shriveled face of the censor's wife in front of him seemed to become more adorable. He thought to himself in alt, ” It's better to take money from women than men, from dead people than men alive .”
He was born to a poor family, in fact, a humble family. His ancestors didn't leave any assets to him and he had nobody to rely on. He looked ugly, greedily raking in interests from plaintiffs and defendants like a locust and brazenly bootlicking his superiors as a wild boar. He had nothing respectable with regard to morality and personality. However, as long as Haotian didn't punish him, he would continue to live like this, faithfully and uglily. As an old saying went, ”I can still live as long as Heaven tolerates me.”
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The spring rain fell consecutively for another two days. The businesses in Lin 47th Street did not improve.
Ning Que didn't know that Shangguan Yangyu, a Judicial Military supervisor in Chang'an Local Government, had dealt with the remaining little trouble caused by his assassination of Censor Zhang Yiqi out of his greed. At the moment, Ning Que was holding a small hot bowl of noodles and staring at the limestone in the rain, thinking about the coming academy entry exam(s) and the expensive tuition and accommodation fees. He was a little depressed and felt cold. He subconsciously used his left hand to tighten his collar.
Although the mysterious big owner had reduced his rent for a whole year, which was equivalent to 300 taels of silver, it couldn't be used as real money. It was just something on paper. If the government forced the big owner to collect rent or the Old Brush Pen Shop had no business, it was just as useless.
He couldn't help sighing when he thought of that. He lowered his head and played with noodles and green onions in the bowl with his chopsticks. He didn't want to eat at all. He even didn't want to write in these two days, let alone eat this bowl of noodles, which he had been eating for several years. He knew that there were four peppercorns and 30 little bits of green onions in the bowl of noodles, without having to look.
The rain outside the shop was getting heavier and heavier, patting the ground with strong sounds. The water splashed in all directions and turned into the frog, affecting people's sights. Ning Que could barely see the wall of the warehouse belonging to the Logistics Department of the Ministry of Revenue. He carried the bowl to the doorstep, squatting down, and continued to watch the rain. Then he began to eat.
Suddenly he lifted his head, looking towards the right side.
A middle-aged man, carrying an oilpaper umbrella, presented outside the Old Brush Pen Shop door. The wild rain had soaked more than half of his turquoise robe and the sword sheath around his waist. It was the big owner.
The front layer of the chest part and coattail turning darker and a little miserable, amazingly, the middle-aged man didn't appear to be miserable at all. He stood at the door calmly, holding his oilpaper umbrella, and observed the rain, like he was admiring a street packed with peach blossoms in the sunshine.
Ning Que looked up towards the man for a while. He didn't speak, continuing to eat noodles.
After a long period of silence, the middle-aged man suddenly lowered his head to look at Ning Que and said with a smile, ”It must taste good.”
Ning Que squatted down on the ground and answered, ”I have eaten this too many times. It just tastes the same.”
”I haven't eaten that before.”
”I'm not going to treat you even though you waived my rent for a year.”
”I like your calligraphy.”
The middle-aged man quickly changed the topic of their conservation, just like the raindrops in front of them, which rolled off the surface of the umbrella before it could seep through it. It could be judged that the man was used to issuing orders, and didn't allow his subordinates to question his commands.
”Me, too.”
”Good job.”
”I know.”
The middle-aged man smiled and said, ”It's really rare to see calligraphy with such... murderous-intent.”
Ning Que bowed his head in silence. He looked at the bowl in his hands and asked, ”Are you going to kill someone tonight?”
The middle-aged man lamentingly answered, ”Yes. As Heaven can tolerate me while the man can't, I have to kill him.”
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