Chapter 5: Strike While the Iron Is Hot

Yang Zhan stood in the snow outside the Celestial Prison, thinly clad.

After stretching his limbs, he watched a woman pushing a wooden cart loaded with tofu slowly pass by the prison gates.

"Officer, would you like some tofu?"

Yang Zhan looked at the woman’s voluptuous figure and nodded. "I would. I love tofu, but I prefer it white and tender."

The woman acted coy, like a budding flower, her voice sounding sweet enough to make one’s bones melt. "Of course it’s white and tender. My tofu is delicious."

She pushed the cart over, lifted the lid of the pot, and indeed, the tofu was steaming, white, and soft. She skillfully scooped a bowl for Yang Zhan. He took it but didn't eat; instead, he eyed the woman’s front and back with obvious appreciation. The woman blushed, casting him sultry, inviting glances.

"Officer, it won't taste good if it gets cold," she murmured.

Yang Zhan brought the bowl to his lips, the woman watching him intently. Suddenly, he lowered it again. She prompted him once more, "Officer, you should enjoy it while it's hot."

Yang Zhan laughed. "I forgot to pay. How much is it?"

"It’s a snowy day and you’re working hard, Officer. Just pay me one coin."

Yang Zhan checked his pockets. "How unfortunate, I didn't bring any money. You wait here, I'll be right back."

"No, no, Officer. Consider it my treat. It's truly freezing out here, just eat it."

"Oh, well, thank you then."

Suddenly, Yang Zhan’s hand slipped, and the bowl of snowy-white tofu fell into the snow, turning into an indistinguishable mess. They stared at each other for a long moment in silence. Finally, the woman collected herself and smiled. "It's alright, I'll scoop you another bowl."

Just as she reached for the bowl, Yang Zhan grabbed her wrist, smiling broadly. "It's bitter cold out here. Why don't you come inside?"

A flash of disgust crossed the woman's eyes as she looked at him, but she lowered her head and whispered, "Won't I be interrupting your duties, Officer?"

"Not at all, not at all. Let me help you push the cart!"

"Thank you, Officer." She curtsied slightly.

Yang Zhan pushed the cart while she followed, her gaze indifferent.

"Second Master, this is..."

"None of your business! Get lost!" Yang Zhan barked. Sanzi and Si'er fell silent, watching with wide eyes as he brought the tofu seller into the interrogation room.

A moment later, a cry rang out.

"Ah..."
"Ah..."

Sanzi and Si'er were shocked. "Si'er, is Second Master using the whip?"
"Or maybe the spiked club?"
"But this is too brutal; the woman is screaming so miserably."
"Sanzi, it's been a long time since we've been to the Drunken Red Pavilion, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has been a long time."
"Shall we go after our shift?"
"Do you have any money?"
"No."
"Then why the hell are you talking about it?"

Sanzi and Si'er slumped in disappointment. Suddenly, all noise from the interrogation room ceased. They stared at the door again.

"Si'er, is Second Master already done?"
"Sigh, he's lost his former vigor."

Just then, Yang Zhan’s voice roared from inside: "Get lost!"

The two men shrank their necks and scurried away. Inside the room, the woman lay on the floor, trembling, holding a dagger. Yang Zhan sat calmly to the side, as if nothing had happened.

After a while, Yang Zhan asked with a smile, "Tell me, how many of you came?"

The woman didn't answer, but having regained some strength, she sat up in the corner and glared at him coldly. Yang Zhan picked up a whip from the table, covered in iron spikes. They weren't long, but they were sharp enough to make one’s scalp crawl. The woman turned pale at the sight.

Yang Zhan looked at her, dead serious. "This whip must hurt. The designer was truly vicious. Don't worry, I'll get you a different one." He put the whip down and picked up a mace. Turning to her, he asked, "How about this one?"

The woman’s pupils contracted, and she panicked. "Officer, I’m just a tofu seller!"

Yang Zhan admired the mace in his hand. "This is better. It won't torture you."

The woman was stunned. If this wasn't torture, what was? As Yang Zhan stood up, her body shook violently. Finally, as he moved to test the mace, she screamed, "I'll talk! I'll talk!"

Yang Zhan beamed. "See? Isn't it better when we're honest? Come, stand up. I’m actually quite gentle with women." He reached out and took her hand. It felt quite nice.

The woman didn't dare resist. He led her to a chair and sat her down. *Click, click.* She found herself locked into the chair by hidden mechanisms. A telescopic iron arm emerged from behind the chair, a sharp steel needle at its tip, pointing directly at her face.

"Ah..."
"Don't scream, it hasn't pricked you yet."
The woman was terrified. "I promised to talk, why are you doing this?"

Yang Zhan didn't answer, merely explaining, "When people lie, their pupils change. Once they change, this needle will strike."

"Does it work automatically?"

Yang Zhan held it steady, aiming it at her eyes. "I can assist it. You can start talking now!"

Looking at his smiling face, the woman felt for the first time that a man’s smile could be that of a demon. "I'll talk, I'll talk. I'm telling the truth, just... be careful." The pressure of the needle against her eye made her stutter.

Yang Zhan nodded. "Speak slowly. Don't panic."

The woman began to recount: There were three of them, and they were only there to scout. They knew Li Yu and the others were imprisoned there, but they didn't know the extent of the prison's defenses. Once they had gathered enough information, they planned to organize a jailbreak.

Yang Zhan pondered for a moment. "Is there a war between the Great Xia and the Fenglin Kingdom?"

She shook her head. "I haven't heard of any."

"What are the identities of Li Yu and Li Zhizhu?"
"A princess and a countess."
"And Chen Lin'er?"
She shook her head. "I don't know."

Suddenly, she shrieked as Yang Zhan pressed down, pushing the needle closer.

"I really don't know! I've never even heard of Chen Lin'er!"

Yang Zhan stopped the needle. It was clear this woman knew little; she was merely a spy. He spoke again: "Where is your token from the Suspended Night Division?"

The woman glanced at her chest. Yang Zhan reached out instantly and pulled a rustic, gilded plaque from her bodice. It was engraved with a moon hanging high over a blackboard. The Suspended Night Division!

Yang Zhan felt the warmth of the token, then pulled the switch on the chair, instantly freeing the woman. He set the token down and looked at her. "What is your name?"

"I have no name. My number is eighteen."

"Eighteen, hmm. Go tell your boss to consider this matter forgotten. But! Don't even think about a jailbreak; it will only lead to pointless casualties and achieve nothing. Their status is too high; have your Fenglin court send someone to negotiate." He gestured toward the door.

Eighteen looked puzzled. "You're just letting me go?"

Yang Zhan chuckled. "What, did you expect me to keep you for dinner?"