Chapter 17: Crying—Even That Counts as Time

Lu Lan stood up lazily, holding a blue leather-bound ledger.
“Qi Cong, the manager of Qingfengyuan Dental Shop, has handled the sale of all our ancestral properties over the past five years. Today, I invited Ma Zhuo, the renowned manager of Tianhe Dental Shop here in Shengjing, to check the market prices and reconcile the accounts. We discovered that Qi Cong embezzled a staggering 43,675 taels of silver from our household.”

“Wow...”

A wave of astonishment swept through the crowd.

Everyone wore the same expression.

To grasp the magnitude of 43,675 taels—

In Shengjing, purchasing a clean, trustworthy servant costs only twenty taels.

If the servant is merely expected to manage household expenses, five taels suffice.

With a thousand taels, one could buy a prime residence in the capital’s most prestigious district.

The sum Qi Cong had stolen was truly jaw-dropping.

Qi Cong’s mouth was gagged, and though he whimpered to speak, he was silenced.

Lu Lan ignored him, tossed the ledger aside, and plopped down into the grand chair, his voice sharp and clear:
“Xianyu, loosen up Uncle Qi’s muscles first.”

“Yes, sir!”

Xianyu was a fierce individual. Though slender and tall in appearance, he was all sinew and muscle, having grown up in a martial arts troupe where he mastered rigorous childhood training.

He rolled up his sleeves, winding the whip coil by coil, each turn making Qi Cong shudder in dread.

Then he soaked the whip in chili water briefly.

Once the whip had absorbed the fiery liquid, it cracked through the air, leaving a bright red mark on Qi Cong’s chest.

“Ugh...”

Qi Cong’s body tensed tightly, pain swelling every vein.

The whip was studded with sharp copper knobs that sliced into flesh, and the chili water seeping into the wounds caused unbearable agony.

Around them, the servants closed their eyes, unable to watch.

It was over—Lord Heir had lost his temper. Given Qi Xuefu’s fiery disposition, she was probably rushing here now.

This was something Lu Lan had personally experienced in his past life while imprisoned on death row—Gu Xingwan would occasionally have him greeted with this method.

Seeing Qi Cong’s delicate skin, Xianyu feared he might faint. He glanced back at Lu Lan, who gave no sign to stop, so the punishment continued.

Smack!

“Ugh...”

The whip struck again, and tears streamed down Qi Cong’s face.

The third lash.

The sound of the supple, powerful whip slapping flesh echoed throughout the main courtyard.

Each strike made the servants tremble.

After five lashes, Qi Cong’s head drooped, his clenched fists relaxing—it was clear he could endure no more.

Lu Lan knew the limit for a normal person was five lashes; beyond that, it would surely be fatal.

He slowly rose and approached Xianyu.

“My lord!”

Xianyu presented the whip with both hands.

Lu Lan took it firmly; the whip was heavy and solid, still emitting a pungent chili scent.

At this point, Qi Cong’s consciousness was barely hanging on.

“Ten-year-old Daughter’s Red wine—such a waste!”

Lu Lan dabbed a bit of Qi Cong’s blood from his body and tasted it, then tore away the gag and gently tapped his cheek:
“Uncle, speak. Who did you sell the Shangzhuguo Mansion to?”

Qi Cong, whose mind had been foggy, was instantly jolted awake by fear.

Anyone who could afford tens of thousands of taels was undoubtedly a person of great status—far beyond his ability to offend.

The sale of a top-tier luxury residence strictly adhered to confidentiality concerning the buyer’s identity. Any leak would ruin their reputation and make it impossible to continue operating in the dental trade.

“I... I can’t say!”

Lu Lan was tired of arguing, giving Xianyu a signal.

“Ah...”

Xianyu, with the whip soaked again in chili water, administered three more lashes, driving Qi Cong to wails of agony.

Lu Lan sipped his tea calmly:
“Uncle, I’ll give you the time it takes to finish this cup of tea. If you don’t speak, I’ll have to bring out other methods. You should know my yard is full of new toys.”

The threat sent shivers down Qi Cong’s spine.

Lu Lan’s methods of torment were inexhaustible, earning him the title of the capital’s most ruthless beast. No matter the victim’s gender, no one fared well under his hand.

“Ugh, no, my lord, please don’t...”

Qi Cong’s cries were long and pitiful.

Lu Lan slammed the tea cup to the ground, viciously pointing at him and scolding:
“Even crying counts as time wasted.”