Even though I only got into this unit through the back door, I still have to pass the professional competency exam. I can’t spend my whole life here just sweeping floors, pouring tea, and wiping tables.
Unless you have a relative in office who can put you on the payroll for a no-show position, you at least have to be able to handle basic tasks if you want to keep your job.
As for finding such a relative, Zhao An couldn't find one even if he flipped through the entire family genealogy. Having a great-uncle who was a "clerk" at the Tax Bureau was already the greatest stroke of luck his family had seen in generations.
Without a word, Zhao An gave the ledger Wang Tai had tossed him a quick look. It was for the dredging of Slender West Lake from last year. The project had been the responsibility of Ganquan County, but looking at the list of accounts, the Yangzhou Prefecture hadn't allocated any funds to the county. Instead, the money had been raised through levies imposed on merchants—or, as they put it, "voluntary" contributions.
Naturally, the task of auditing these accounts fell to the Tax Bureau; after all, they were the ones who had collected the money.
Without further thought, he picked up an abacus and started calculating. His technique was truly atrocious—not just rusty, but completely unskilled. It was clear he had never touched an abacus in his life.
Zhao An couldn't be blamed for being unfamiliar with the tools of his ancestors. Life in the technological era provided too many conveniences; having grown accustomed to calculators, how could he be expected to master an abacus overnight?
"Don't worry, take your time. I wasn't good at it when I started, either."
His mentor, Liu Xiaolou, didn't know what to say, and their "team leader," Wang Tai, frowned slightly. But then he remembered how well the boy had performed since arriving at the Accounting Office, and that he was the grand-nephew of Wang Defa from the study room. Having just told the lad to practice more, he could only sigh in resignation and go back to his own books.
Zhao An was certainly feeling anxious inside. No matter how well he had memorized the abacus formulas, without the dexterity, he was useless. Still, he knew that worrying wouldn't help. He calmed himself down and began to calculate, line by line.
His speed was slow, but his results were accurate.
Because in addition to using the abacus, he was quietly performing the addition and subtraction in his head. If he hit a calculation too complex for mental math, he would secretly use formulas on a piece of paper.
Wang Tai was busy with his own work, Liu Xiaolou had been assigned elsewhere by Wang Tai, and the others were all swamped. Who would have time to watch how the new recruit was doing his work?
He spent the entire morning "clack-clacking" away at the beads. Finally, the crisp sound of a bell rang out in the courtyard. The staff from every department set down their work and headed toward the canteen in groups, chatting and laughing.
The scene reminded Zhao An of his school days in his previous life.
Those who lived nearby could even go home for a nap after eating. In terms of working hours, the lower-level clerks actually had more freedom than the officials; there were certainly perks to being small-fry. If he were working in a major government office, the rules and regulations would surely be much more stifling.
He remembered that officials in Beijing had to be at work by four or five in the morning. Even with those hours, they were "illustrious in public, miserable in private."
But everyone still wanted a taste of that misery.
Zhao An didn't rush to eat. He waited until everyone from the Accounting Office had left before standing up to stretch his stiff body. Only then did he head off for lunch at a leisurely pace.
The "canteen" was really just a brick-and-tile room connected to two simple sheds, furnished with tables, benches, and bowls.
As a lucrative unit, the canteen did serve meat at lunch, though the portions were pitifully small. Heaven only knew how much money Ding Laosan, the contractor, made in a year.
Aside from the patrol guards, the canteen was mostly filled with lower-level staff from various departments.
The middle-level officials had their own private dining area and better food—that was where Zhao An’s great-uncle, Wang Defa, ate. Commissioner Ding sometimes ate with this group, but most of the time he dined at restaurants outside.
The Tax Bureau had an "official" restaurant for hosting guests, and whenever people came from the Prefecture or the County, that was where they were entertained. According to the gatekeeper, Wu Laoer, the restaurant owner's wife might have been having an affair with Commissioner Ding.
It was probably true.
By the time Zhao An arrived, his mentor, Liu Xiaolou, had nearly finished eating. Being in a rush to deliver account books to the County Yamen, he made sure to say goodbye to Zhao An before leaving.
After nodding in acknowledgment, Zhao An got his food. When he finished, he didn't return to the Accounting Office to put on a show of hard work. Instead, he did what he had done for the past few days and went to the gatehouse to chat with Wu Laoer.
If you don't work while everyone else is working, you're lazy. But if you work while everyone else is taking a break, you're also doing something wrong.
The logic seemed off, but it was a universal truth.
Wu Laoer was also a local from Yangzhou and had been with the Tax Bureau longer than anyone. They said he had been keeping the gate since the middle of the Qianlong era. He had seen countless commissioners come and go; it was no exaggeration to say that Wu Laoer was the iron-clad gatekeeper in a stream of passing officials.
Zhao An liked chatting with Wu Laoer because the old man would talk about anything and knew everything, much like the taxi drivers back in his previous life. He was a fascinating person to talk to.
"Uncle Wu, eating?"
When he entered, he saw Wu Laoer eating lunch. The food was from the canteen, but he had an extra plate of peanuts and half a bowl of wine left.
The old man really loved his drink. Even at breakfast, he would have a bowl, leaving the gatehouse smelling of alcohol all day long.
Nobody knew what kind of connections the old man had, but no one in the office dared to say a word to him.
This was one of the reasons Zhao An kept going to the gatehouse.
Opportunities aren't given by heaven; you have to seek them out yourself.
If the old drunkard really did have a relative in a high-ranking position in the province or the prefecture, he could be a golden ticket for Zhao An.
However, after several days of contact, he hadn't found any clues about such a "benefactor."
Zhao An wasn't worried. He was playing the long game. Even if the old man had no powerful relatives, it didn't matter; he could just enjoy the old man's company.
"Little An, I heard you got assigned to the Third Room?"
Wu Laoer quite liked the young man who came to talk to him every lunch break. For one, older people like company, and for another, the kid often helped him sweep the gatehouse.
"Yeah, that's right."
Zhao An reached for the broom behind the door and swept the dirt into a dustpan, thinking that the old man’s intelligence network was quite impressive.
Wu Laoer took a gulp from his bowl, wiped his mouth, and chuckled, "Wang Tai in your room isn't a bad sort. He’s simple-minded. It’s a good thing for you to be following him."
"Yeah."
Zhao An didn't know what to say, so he just smiled and nodded. "Mr. Wang has been very good to me. I’m not skilled with the abacus and I’m slow with the accounts, but he hasn't given me a hard time."
"If you're not skilled, just practice more. Practice makes perfect, right? Who’s born knowing how to use an abacus? Don't rush, take your time."
After taking a bite of his food, Wu Laoer casually asked what kind of accounts Wang Tai had asked him to calculate.
It wasn't a state secret, so Zhao An replied, "Just the accounts for last year's dredging of Slender West Lake."
Wu Laoer let out an "Oh." "The dredging last year was funded by the levies collected by the county. The money passed through the bureau, so you’re the ones who have to handle the books."
"Uncle Wu, shouldn't the county have allocated funds for a project like dredging? Why were the merchants forced to donate?"
Zhao An had been puzzled by this all morning. In his view, such public municipal projects should be funded by the government. There was no reason to impose the cost on the people.
If the people had to pay for everything, what was the government for?
To his surprise, Wu Laoer looked just as puzzled. "If the people don't pay for it, what are the officials for?"