Chapter 468
Chapter 468
A month after Tuo Su'an sent the message, she finally reconnected with Gao Douhuan, arranging to meet at their old, secret spot. The Crown Prince had no patience left for Gao Douhuan’s incompetence. Tuo Su'an stared at the jug of wine in her hand. It contained a deadly poison; to drink it was to die. As much as she didn't want Gao Douhuan to die—a man of his martial prowess was hard to come by, and it was better to keep using him—she had no choice but to obey the Crown Prince's command. It was truly laughable that a man who was nothing more than a hunting dog possessed such a strong, innate sense of justice.
With a flash, a shadow appeared. The peerless master, Gao Douhuan, had arrived. The legendary figure, who had achieved the rank of martial champion at eighteen, revealed himself once more. Tuo Su'an smiled, poured him a cup of grape wine, and offered it to him.
“Brother, the weather is hot. Have a cup of wine to quench your thirst.”
Gao Douhuan gazed at Tuo Su'an with the same passionate look of a man head over heels in love. He took the cup she offered and, without a hint of suspicion, drank it all in one gulp.
* * *
Shen Lang stared intently at the man before him. He truly had the air of someone who had transcended the mortal world, a free spirit bound by nothing. Alright, let me put it more clearly. The man before him looked unbound by anything, detached from the secular world. That was because he looked like he hadn't bathed in months, and though summer was nearly over, he wore clothes that seemed to be from last year, so caked in grease they shone.
His hair looked as if it had been washed a few times. To be precise, it looked as if the rain had fallen from the sky and passed through his hair on several occasions. Thus, his current hairstyle brought to mind the leader of the Beggars' Sect. His wild, untamed hair was matted into solid clumps. And his face was so covered in black grime that one could hardly make out his features.
The sight of him reminded Shen Lang of the beggar selling secret manuals in Stephen Chow's movie *Kung Fu Hustle*. On the one hand, he looked like a beggar who rummaged through trash for food; on the other, he resembled a reclusive sage who had left the world behind. Shen Lang covered his nose with a perfumed handkerchief.
“Pardon me, sir, but where is your hometown?”
The man replied.
“Wherever my heart is at ease and my feet take me, that is my home!”
“Pardon me, sir, but what official titles do you hold?”
“Fame and titles are but fleeting smoke.”
“Then, do you have a family, sir?”
“Alone and untethered, how could I not be joyful?”
Ugh! Shen Lang realized. The man before him held no titles, had not even passed the county-level exams, and was a wanderer well past the age of marriage with no fixed abode. Shen Lang gestured to have the man thrown out.
“Young Master, for you to have picked me out from this vast sea of people, is that not fate? A fine steed is not rare, but a judge like Bole is. Surely, my unparalleled talent must find a home somewhere?”
Shen Lang asked through gritted teeth.
“Then what is it that you can do, sir?”
“I can look up to know the heavens and look down to survey the earth; I can find the middle way to harmonize with people. I understand Yin and Yang, the Eight Trigrams, and the mystic arts of strategy and evasion. I can devise strategies within a command tent that will secure victory in battles a thousand li away. I am comparable to Guan Zhong and Yue Yi, yet I can roam freely anywhere, not just bound to the imperial court... Heh heh.”
Shen Lang's jaw dropped at his grandiloquent speech.
“Then what is it that you *cannot* do, sir?”
“I cannot do any small tasks. I can only accomplish great things in my life.”
Shen Lang figured it out in an instant. This man's greatest skill was bluffing. He was such a good bluffer, he was even better at it than Shen Lang himself. Someone pointed at the reclusive sage and said.
“Huh, isn't that Madman Lan? How amusing. Two madmen have gathered, haven't they? Ah, no. One's a madman, and the other's a fool.”
Hearing their words, Shen Lang realized the reclusive sage before him was quite the celebrity. He soon gathered from the surrounding chatter that this Madman Lan was not just a name but a widespread notoriety. His original profession was a beggar, with a side job as a fortune-teller. Of course, he had never once given an accurate reading in his life. In some parts of the State of Yue, being close to the barbarian lands, customs were more open, and even women could read fortunes. Madman Lan had used fortune-telling as an excuse to touch a woman's chest, which got him beaten so badly that his hand was broken. No longer able to make a living telling fortunes, he had to resort to begging for food. Barely surviving on alms, he had roamed through the states of Wu, Chu, and Yue for over a decade.
Of course, an ordinary wanderer or a common fortune-teller would not have become so famous, but the crucial thing was that he would tell people to take off their clothes for a fortune-reading. At first, he had the demeanor of an immortal, so some people were actually fooled by him, but eventually, those who realized they had been tricked beat him half to death. Of course, some people took pity on him and gave him a little money, but as soon as he got his hands on it, he would spend it on prostitutes. The cheapest kind, at that—the type who sold their bodies as a side job, who would do it once for fifty or sixty wen.
But later, even those cheapest of prostitutes refused to take him as a client. It was because he was so filthy. Of course, a dirty body could be cleaned with a bath, wasting a bit of water, but this piece of human trash would get their services on credit and never pay. It wasn't just his body that was filthy; his actions were utterly foul.
He currently owed money on credit to every single one of the cheapest prostitutes in the capital of Yue and showed no intention of ever paying it back. So naturally, the women no longer accepted him as a client and had hunted him down and beaten him several times. Each time, he would be beaten like a dead dog and left curled up in some deserted gutter. Everyone thought he must have died on several occasions, but he never did. Over time, he became a celebrity in the capital. Madman Lan could probably be called the most wretched, lowest-of-the-low trash in the capital.
Madman Lan, unconcerned that his identity had been exposed, still looked at Shen Lang with the air of a reclusive sage.
“Young Master Shen, this is a rare opportunity. If you let me go, your great enterprise will never succeed.”
Just then, a stout woman approached. She looked to be in her forties, weighed over two hundred *jin*, and was covered in grease, suggesting she was a female butcher. She was more muscular than a man and even had a mustache above her lip.
*Smack!*
The female butcher struck with her palm, and Madman Lan fell to the ground.
“What about the five silver taels you owe me? If you don't pay up now, I'll kill you!”
The two-hundred-*jin* female butcher plopped down on Madman Lan's chest. Shen Lang heard a *crack!* and saw Lan's body shudder. Had the woman broken the sage's ribs? Madman Lan sighed and said.
“Jiaojiao, it was clearly a consensual act between us. Why bring up money again?”
“Who said it was consensual? Pay up, or I'll kill you.”
The female butcher slapped Lan's cheeks wildly from side to side, beating his face until it was a bloody mess.
“If you don't pay in ten days, I'll castrate you.”
The female butcher stood up forcefully and left.
So, did female butchers also work as prostitutes on the side? Such cases did indeed exist. This female butcher had probably once been a slave who participated in wrestling matches. Later, when she became too old to wrestle, she was hired by others as a butcher for pigs and sheep, but her income was so meager that she took up selling her body as a side business. Of course, her prices were extremely low—ten times for one silver tael.
Madman Lan, not the least bit concerned, got up and patted his chest. This time, his ribs weren't broken, thankfully. What a relief. Then he looked at Shen Lang and said.
“If the Young Master intends to hire me, please pay me five silver taels as an advance on my salary. Use it to compensate for my wounded heart.”
*Damn it, compensation for a wounded heart? Isn't that just his prostitute fee?*
Shen Lang immediately asked.
“What is three thousand, eight hundred and ninety-five times fifteen thousand, two hundred and forty-three?”
Madman Lan, startled, replied.
“Fifty-nine million, three hundred seventy-one thousand, four hundred and eighty-five!”
“Congratulations. As of today, you are hired!”
Madman Lan wiped the blood from his face, stood up, and shouted with a bold and magnanimous air.
“A clever bird chooses the tree on which to build its nest, and a wise minister chooses the lord he serves. A scholar will die for one who recognizes his worth. From this day forward, I, Lan, will devote my life to serving the nation until death. Now... about that advance on my salary...”
Shen Lang counted out five silver taels and gave them to him. After receiving the silver, Madman Lan ran madly toward the female butcher.
“Jiaojiao, I have money now. When shall we continue our beautiful connection?”
The female butcher took the money and said dismissively.
“You madman, don't waste your money. You can't even last as long as it takes to piss. It's a hassle for me to even take off my pants, and I feel bad taking your money.”
Having concluded his conversation with the female butcher, Madman Lan returned to Shen Lang without a trace of shame and bowed his head.
“This subordinate pays his respects to the Chief Scribe.”
Shen Lang said with a straight face.
“From this day on, you are the Registrar of the Marquis of Changping's estate, a seventh-rank official!”
Everyone in the vicinity who witnessed the scene was about to lose their minds.
*Damn it! A beggar can become an official? And a seventh-rank one at that? Is this Shen Lang guy completely insane?*
“If someone like Madman Lan can become a seventh-rank official, then I could be the Prime Minister, couldn't I?”
“Shen Lang, have you lost your mind? Are you completely mad?”
The Fifth Prince's attendant eunuch was dumbfounded, and Thirteen, standing beside Shen Lang, was also stunned. The old eunuch spoke up.
“Young Master Shen, even if recruiting talent is difficult, surely you wouldn't recruit someone like him?”
“Ah, we need to recruit talent without being bound by convention.”
The old eunuch, surprised by his words, asked.
“Even so, aren't you being a little *too* unconventional, Young Master Shen?”
For example, in a horse race, if you truly had no horses, you could choose a mule, or a donkey, or even bring a wild dog if you had to, but you couldn't enter a dung beetle in the race, could you?
“Didn't you say yourself, Young Master Shen? That the Registrar needed to have at least a *juren* degree.”
“I said we need a *juren*, but I never specified *when* he had to pass the exam, did I? It could be someone who passed before, someone who will pass next time, or even someone who will pass in ten years.”
“Ugh!”
“Even a beggar can have a dream, and so can a wanderer.”