Charles Bennett sat down, tilted his head back, and gulped down a bowl of tea in one go. He wiped his mouth and cursed, “Damn those bastards, they said Mr. Smith is a notorious bandit from Guangxi, it’s been verified, he confessed himself, he’s a major national criminal. We don’t have the authority to get him out, and now he’s been thrown into death row.”

As he spoke, Charles Bennett looked at William Sullivan with suspicion: “Brother, who asked you to handle this? Could it be someone wants to harm you?”

William Sullivan gave a bitter smile and shook his head. It seemed Mr. Smith’s identity had somehow been confirmed by someone, and his life was as good as over.

Charles Bennett, having failed to get the job done, picked up the wine pot and poured himself cup after cup, downing each one in a single gulp, clearly feeling frustrated.

Emily Smith sat silently for a while, then stood up and said softly, “I’ll take my leave.”

William Sullivan was taken aback and quickly stood up as well, following Emily Smith to the door and asking in a low voice, “Miss Smith, what are you doing?”

There was not a trace of grief or anger on Emily Smith’s face. She said calmly, “As you said, we’re even now. It’s not your fault the matter couldn’t be settled. But pass a message to that Sixth Master: if I see him again, the knife goes in white and comes out red—no more words.”

William Sullivan felt a chill in his heart, but he also admired Emily Smith for keeping her word. Although it seemed Charles Bennett was the main culprit who had landed her brother in such dire straits, she still stuck to the agreement with him and didn’t immediately turn hostile.

“Miss Smith, don’t even think about breaking him out of prison. That’s a dead end, and it won’t work.” William Sullivan, having watched too many dramas, was genuinely worried that Emily Smith might get a rush of blood to the head and try to storm the Ministry of Justice’s prison.

Emily Smith said nothing. It seemed that this wise and clever girl, faced with her own brother’s life and death, was probably entertaining some wild ideas.

William Sullivan let out a long sigh. Well, it looked like the peaceful days of walking birds and flying hawks were gone for good.

“Miss Smith, don’t do anything rash. Let me handle this. Whether it works or not, it’s still better than you charging in and getting yourself killed.”

Emily Smith looked at him in surprise, clearly trying to figure out what tricks this little Tartar was up to.

But William Sullivan just made a gesture for silence, sat back at the table, pressed down on Charles Bennett’s wine cup, and stared at Charles Bennett without blinking, speaking in a low, slow voice: “Mr. Smith’s matter still needs to be handled.”

Charles Bennett was never clear-headed, and was just thinking about where to go for a smoke next. William Sullivan’s words jolted him, but he was even more of a lawless type. Bandits and rebels? He didn’t care about any of that. Wasn’t it just about getting a death row prisoner out? Not as impressive as smashing up the commander’s yamen. Back in the Jiaqing Emperor’s time, didn’t his third uncle’s branch have an ancestor who smashed up the infantry commander’s office?

“Then I’ll go round up the men from the Qiaoqi Battalion! Damn it, let’s beat those Han lackeys to a pulp, then ask Seventh Great-Grandpa to speak to the Emperor and accuse them of not knowing their place, treating good men like criminals!”

Seeing Charles Bennett rolling up his sleeves and getting all fired up, William Sullivan couldn’t help but laugh and quickly pulled him back down, saying, “Hey, don’t make trouble. If this blows up, we’ll be in the wrong, and if it goes badly, not just us, even the old men won’t be able to handle it. We can’t do this openly. Here’s what we’ll do: find a corpse to send in and pull a switcheroo, then report that he died suddenly in prison—no one will be the wiser. As for the details and who to get for the job, you discuss it with Little Henry.”

William Sullivan knew Charles Bennett’s temperament—he couldn’t handle such delicate work, but with Little Henry’s help, it would be a different story, sure to be done cleanly. If Charles Bennett weren’t so well-connected in several offices, he really wouldn’t want to get him involved.

Charles Bennett swung his arms and nodded repeatedly. Ever since he was a child, he respected William Sullivan the most and listened to him the best—except for one thing: smoking opium. William Sullivan nagged him about it so much his ears had blisters, but he just couldn’t quit.

Chapter Six: The Ultimate Father and Son

Passing through a four-pillared, three-bay, towering archway, one could see from afar the two imposing stone lions at the grand steps of the Prince Zheng’s Mansion. The archway bore the inscription “Zhan Yun,” marking it as the Xidan Archway.

The Prince Zheng’s Mansion faced south, with three main routes and three courtyards deep. Behind the plaza of the eastern route’s first courtyard stood the imposing and solemn main hall. Looking around, there were carved beams and painted rafters, green tiles and blue eaves, and among the willows and green trees, layer upon layer of rooftops rose like waves, undulating into the distance, beyond what the eye could see. The total number of rooms in all the courtyards added up to several hundred—truly, entering a noble’s gate is as deep as the sea.

The rear garden on the western side of the mansion was called “Hui Garden,” the finest garden in the capital, with jagged rocks, artificial hills and clear springs, pavilions and gazebos hidden among the greenery—indescribably beautiful. William Sullivan lived in the fledgling Phoenix Tower behind Hui Garden, with a pool of clear water in front, reflecting the green trees, cool and tranquil.

With the young prince returning home, the entire Prince Zheng’s Mansion instantly lost all order, descending into chaos. Eunuchs and maids tiptoed through the inner palace, some delivering messages to the main consort, others to the various secondary consorts and concubines.

After William Sullivan, two younger brothers had died young, and there was one older sister and one younger sister. The older sister had been betrothed to a Mongolian prince, while the younger sister married Edward Cooper, son of Grand Secretary Sai Shang’a. But the younger sister was unlucky: two years ago, Sai Shang’a, as an imperial envoy, was sent to supervise the army in Guangxi, but the Taiping Army’s rebellion only grew fiercer, sweeping into Hunan like a tidal wave. Sai Shang’a was dismissed and prosecuted, and the family property was confiscated. It wasn’t until the beginning of this year that Edward Cooper was recommended as a clerk in charge of training the banner troops, finally gaining some prospects.