Ying Zheng: Go to Nanyang and audit the accounts.
Ying Ru: No. This lazy fish has no desire to get moving.
Ying Zheng: Don't go? Then you'll have to earn your own pocket money from now on.
Ying Ru: ...Uncle, where's Nanyang?
Other people run themselves ragged investigating cases. Ying Ru lies around until his back gives out.
Once in Wancheng, he only does three things each day: munch on flatbread, fan himself, and watch Gou Sheng run errands.
When a corrupt official offers him gold to keep quiet, he returns the box with two words written on it: “Not enough.”
When the governor comes to put on an act, he takes a sip of tea and says, “The tea's gone cold, and so have your lies.”
When an assassin scales the wall to scout the place, he taunts him from the other side: “You're nowhere near as good as the Commandant of Justice's men.”
Everyone thinks he's a lazy fish, until the day the Commandant of Justice closes the net
only then do they realize this lazy fish had already woven the net and was just waiting for them to swim into it.
For good measure, he also writes them a few doggerel poems to send them on their way.
[An easygoing, absurd detective story. Watch how this lazy young lord uses sharp-tongued retorts and doggerel to curse the parasites into prison.]
