Chapter 52: Playing the Cat to Tease the Turtle

The turtle stretched out its head, gazing after Wang Gemao’s departing figure without the slightest ripple of emotion.

Zhang Jifeng’s discontent with Wang Gemao grew by the day. It was not just a personal grudge—though Zhang Jifeng himself was a cynical and unruly sort, compared to the corrupt official Wang Gemao, he was a mere novice facing a grandmaster. With his resentment festering and nowhere to vent, he struck the innocent turtle’s shell in a fit of anger, only to suffer the consequences himself, yelping from the pain as if striking a stone with an egg.

Poor Zhang Jifeng, not only bearing the brunt of his anger but also enduring the silent scorn of others. Though his family wielded some influence, he had gained little benefit from it. If his brothers or father had been willing to help, would he be stuck as a mere junior constable today? Who could know the bitterness he swallowed?

Startled, the turtle retracted its head, leaving only the shell behind. When Zhang Jifeng cried out in pain, it slowly poked its head out again, staring at this laughable adversary. A tiger fallen to the lowlands is bullied by dogs—now, even a humble turtle looked down on him! The injustice was infuriating, and Wang Gemao was truly to blame, targeting him at every turn.

The minor clerks lurking nearby kept their silence, wary not to offend either Magistrate Wang or Constable Zhang, caught awkwardly between the two. Magistrate Wang had instructed the clerks to take good care of his precious little turtle while he went off to enjoy himself. Meanwhile, Constable Zhang had secretly urged them to neglect the turtle, hoping it would die—after all, it ate well one day and starved the next. Without a resilient spirit, perhaps it would give up on life altogether.

Once Constable Zhang left, the clerk put away the turtle and was about to head toward the side room when he was blocked by Liu Buwen.

“Sir, please wait,” Liu Buwen said politely.

The clerk instinctively shielded the turtle, but Liu Buwen’s refined demeanor made him drop his guard.

“I’ve come today to instruct the prisoners,” Liu Buwen explained, “and I heard you’re on duty. I hope you’ll show me the way.”

After a brief explanation, the clerk understood, placed the turtle in its cage, and led Liu Buwen toward the jail.

Once the clerk was gone, Liu Buwen, ever sly, gave a subtle signal toward the cage. After both men departed, Luo Gan crept in, whisked away the cage, and tossed it over the wall to Erhu, who was waiting outside. Everything went smoothly.

Inside the Bamboo Grove Guild, a group gathered around the turtle, its head tucked tightly into its shell, several pairs of eyes fixed intently on its back.

“Isn’t this a bit too wicked?” Farmer A muttered.

Luo Gan, chewing on a stalk of wheat he’d brought back from the village, replied with measured calm, “It’s clever strategy—a matter of cunning.”

Erhu, like Zhang Jifeng before him, rapped the shell twice, only making the turtle more frightened.

“Ah Luo,” Uncle De sighed, “when your parents were alive, they always told you to make something of yourself, to be a good man who serves the country!”

In Luo Gan’s heart, he’d survived so many strange events already. In the real world, his name was Li Chuanglai, but he was timid and evasive, never daring to take risks. Only in the game had he found the way he wished to live. Every time he heard those brainwashing motivational speeches, he felt nauseous. Only fools believed in that kind of self-consolation; victory in the game was the true path.

“So, did my parents end up making something of themselves and serving the country?” Luo Gan replied.

Uncle De’s expression grew awkward. “Your parents were diligent farmers, children of the earth, working tirelessly their whole lives and never missing a single grain tax.”

Farmer A and Erhu clicked their tongues in wonder, but Luo Gan was unmoved.

“If they couldn’t manage it themselves, how can they expect their children to succeed?” Luo Gan said. “I think they just wanted me to live a better life, right?”

Luo Gan’s refusal to play by the rules left Uncle De helpless. Persuading him to be content never worked. Compared to the blundering, trouble-prone Erhu, it was the calculating and unfathomable Luo Gan who worried Uncle De more.

The turtle remained unmoving, and Yanshan looked on in confusion.

“What does catching a turtle have to do with sneaking into Sima’s mansion?” Erhu asked.

Luo Gan spat out the wheat stalk. “That little turtle is Wang Gemao’s treasure. If it goes missing, and we plant it at his archrival Constable Zhang’s place, what do you think will happen?”

Farmer A and Uncle De immediately grasped his meaning, but Erhu looked down on such underhanded tactics.

“Isn’t this a little too shameless?” Erhu grumbled.

“And when you were a child, how many firecrackers did you throw into other people’s yards?” someone retorted.

Erhu tried to distance himself, turning his head and avoiding their gaze. “That… that… that’s not the same!”

Luo Gan reached out to tap the turtle; it remained still. Liu Buwen looked composed.

“Brother, do you have any ideas to make this turtle move? If it dies in our hands, I’d feel too guilty.”

“I’m not sure,” Liu Buwen replied, “but Magistrate Wang often amuses himself by meowing at the turtle like a cat—it’s quite a sight.”

Meowing like a cat at the turtle? Luo Gan recalled the time he and Liu Buwen had sneaked into the yamen for the Three Hundred Tang Poems, only to stumble upon Wang Gemao meowing in the courtyard. He’d thought he’d seen a ghost.

Amused by the memory, Luo Gan imitated a cat’s mew, adding in some clicking sounds with his tongue, performing a solo act that had everyone around him struggling to suppress their laughter.

Apparently, this little concert did the trick—the turtle finally poked out its head, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

On the table lay Xiao Zhi’s carving knife. Luo Gan picked it up and engraved the words “Wang the Turtle Magistrate” onto the shell.

Yanshan burst in from outside, rolling forward in a tumble and landing before the group in a showy—but ultimately clumsy—entrance.

“Enough showing off—do we have a chance?” Luo Gan asked.

Yanshan nodded. Satisfied, Luo Gan took the turtle and, with Liu Buwen, slipped back toward the yamen.

Wang Gemao returned from admiring the plum blossoms in high spirits and immediately began searching for his precious pet. The clerk tasked with watching the turtle fell to his knees, bowing repeatedly.

“Where’s my Sea-Calming Divine Turtle? Where is it?” Wang demanded.

“Sir… the turtle is gone!” the clerk stammered.

Wang Gemao’s rage exploded, his hair bristling like a crown of fury. He seized the clerk, trembling with volcanic wrath.

“I’ll give you one more chance to speak—otherwise, you’d best prepare for your next life,” he threatened.

The clerk’s lips quivered, his hands balled into fists, his face shaking as if in an earthquake.

“Sir, the divine turtle… has returned to the Dragon Palace to become an immortal!” he stammered.

Everyone around exchanged looks. Wang Gemao, not amused, slapped the clerk hard across the face.

“Back to the Dragon Palace? That’s clever! You’d better find it today, or you’ll be joining it in the Dragon Palace yourself!”

He tossed the clerk aside and stormed off, shouting “Sea-Calming Divine Turtle” as he searched everywhere.

The entire yamen became a marketplace, officials of all ranks shouting for the turtle. Not even the court drum could gather attention—a clerk at the entrance went out, confiscated the drumsticks, and dispersed the crowd.

“Aren’t the people allowed to seek justice anymore?” someone in the crowd protested.

“Seek justice? We’re about to end up in jail ourselves—who will hear our complaints?” the clerk shot back, pounding the court drum as he spoke.

Luo Gan and Liu Buwen, delighted with their success, slipped away with a small sack, avoided the crowds, and sneaked into Constable Zhang’s quarters. Waiting until the patrolling guards had passed, they quietly released the turtle from the sack and left it in the room, closing the door behind them.

The two exchanged a triumphant high-five, already picturing the chaos that was sure to follow.