In Zhao An’s past life, a middle school teacher in his hometown was seconded to the county government to serve as a secretary for the county leadership, thanks to his excellent writing skills. The official he served was later promoted to high office, eventually becoming a provincial governor, and the teacher rode his coattails to become a prefect—a prominent figure in Zhao An’s hometown.
Although it was the governor who was the true catalyst for the teacher’s career, the real turning point was that initial secondment from the school to the government office. Without that step, the teacher would have remained a mere school staffer, retiring at best as a dean or vice principal. It is clear just how precious that secondment experience was. In Zhao An’s past life, countless officials had such backgrounds, as everyone knew that staying close to those in power or working directly under them was the only way to seize a career opportunity. People would pull every string and offer gifts without hesitation to secure such a position. Of course, many who were seconded never ascended; some were returned to their original units, while others remained obscure or even failed to adapt, ending up in positions worse than before. After all, fate is different for everyone. But regardless, for those with political ambitions, a secondment is a rare and precious opportunity.
Zhao An wanted to grasp this opportunity. Master Ji, while hired as an advisor by the County Magistrate and technically not a government-sanctioned official—a sort of temp—was a powerful figure who effectively managed affairs within the Yamen, wielding power no less than the county vice-magistrates. If Master Ji were willing to help, Zhao An could indeed transfer from the Tax Bureau to the county Yamen. The difference in potential between a tax office and the government core was obvious to anyone with a brain.
Now, it all depended on whether Master Ji would give him that chance. After all, the offer had not come from him; Zhao An had had to swallow his pride and ask for the opportunity himself. As for his claim that he wanted to "learn something," it was merely a humble, euphemistic excuse.
"You want to work at the Yamen?" Master Ji asked with a smile, clearly caught off guard by the young man's ambition. "How long have you been at the Tax Bureau?"
Zhao An did not dare to hide the truth. "Reporting to you, sir, it has been two months."
"Only two months? You haven't even mastered the work in your own office, yet you’re already eyeing the Yamen. Young man, it’s not that I want to lecture you, but aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself?"
As he spoke, Master Ji placed his spectacles—which hung from a silk cord—onto the bridge of his nose. Zhao An found nothing strange in this; spectacles had existed since the Ming Dynasty and were common enough. In Jiangnan, workshops in Suzhou mass-produced them, ranging in price from two or three silver coins to as much as eight. Yangzhou had several shops selling them, though unlike those from his past life, the frames were made of pear wood or brass, and the lenses were thick.
"Please do not take offense, sir. I believe that one can only learn true wisdom by following a man of great talent like yourself. Without a mentor of your caliber, I fear I shall spend my life in mediocrity. Furthermore, as water flows downward and man climbs upward, I am at an age where I must strive for more. I implore you to give me a chance. If I ever achieve any success, I shall never forget your great kindness as long as I live!"
Zhao An spoke from the heart. To play games with a sharp-minded man like Master Ji would be an insult to both the master and himself. He then knelt and kowtowed to Ji Bochang without hesitation, remaining on the floor, looking up at him with a gaze of desperate sincerity. It was an all-or-nothing moment.
Looking down at the young man, the forty-something Ji Bochang couldn't help but recall his own past—the days when, seeing no hope in the imperial examinations, he had begged a fellow townsman to take him along as a junior clerk to make ends meet. The memories were vivid. Wasn't this scene before him just a repeat of his own past?
Feeling a sense of empathy, he pondered his position. As the Magistrate’s advisor, he lacked trusted, capable people in Ganquan County. The boy had ambition, but who didn't? Ambition was a virtue when it came to management; if the boy lacked drive, why would he have come to beg him? Besides, the lad was sharp, and the Magistrate seemed to have a good impression of him. Why not give him a hand? If the boy actually made something of himself in the Yamen, it might serve as a future resource for him, too. After all, advisors were nomads, never rooted in one place.
With this thought, he decided to help, though he did not commit on the spot. He gestured for Zhao An to rise and said coolly, "I will consider it. Go back and wait for word. And do not mention this to anyone in your office; loose lips rarely bring good fortune."
"I understand, sir. You have my word!"
One must learn to read the tone of a conversation, and Master Ji’s tone clearly indicated he would help. Zhao An was thrilled and took his leave, suppressing his excitement. He did not take back the fifty-tael silver note, and Master Ji did not stop him; it seemed the money was accepted as a "trouble fee," or perhaps an introduction fee.
Unexpectedly, he waited for over a month with no word from Ji Bochang. Zhao An dared not go to the Yamen to press him. Each day was a torture of waiting, during which he and Liu Xiaolou patiently followed Wang Tai’s orders, continuing their monotonous life as accountants.
At the end of the month, after receiving his wages, Zhao An took Liu Xiaolou to Dongguan to buy some snacks and gifts, then stopped by a braised meat stall near Luosijieding Alley for some pig’s head meat and a jar of wine to thank his uncle for his care. Though his uncle, Wang Defa, rarely sought him out at the Tax Bureau and acted as if he didn't know him, he had been caring for him in secret; Commissioner Ding and Manager Zhang had been treated to more than a few meals by Wang Defa on Zhao An's behalf. He was a man of action who rarely spoke, treating Zhao An like his own son.
"Why spend this money? You should save it to let your aunt find you a wife," Wang Defa said, though his face was beaming with joy. He pulled Zhao An inside, and the two drank together. They spoke of Zhao An’s cousin-in-law, the wife of Wang Defa’s eldest son, who was due to give birth next month—and with the size of her belly, it looked like twins. Wang Defa was overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a grandfather.
By the end of the night, Wang Defa was drunk, and Zhao An had to carry him to his room. After reminding his aunt, Madam Ma, to keep an eye on him during the night, Zhao An stumbled back to his room in Renfeng Alley, his head spinning, and fell straight into bed.
The next day, had Liu Xiaolou not woken him, he would have been late.
After his usual chores—sweeping, pouring tea, and wiping tables—he returned to the dry, repetitive work of abacuses and ledgers. Sometimes, the clacking of the abacus even sounded harmonious.
While calculating, he heard voices outside. Then, Ding Zhenglong, the Commissioner of the Tax Bureau, came to summon the accounting manager, Zhang Quan, saying that an important person was coming to inspect the bureau. In a small county, who could be truly important? At most, one of the three top officials.
And indeed, it was the Secretary, Lu—one of the three—who came to inspect. But accompanying him was someone Zhao An had dreamed of seeing: Master Ji.
A Secretary was, strictly speaking, a deputy county magistrate, so Commissioner Ding naturally welcomed him with great fanfare. Most of the mid-level staff gathered at the entrance, though Zhao An, as a lowly employee, could only stay in the accounting room with Liu Xiaolou.
The Secretary’s visit was merely symbolic, to pass down the Magistrate’s latest instructions regarding tax collection. The meeting took place in Ding Zhenglong’s office. Once the talk was done, Secretary Lu turned to Master Ji with a smile and said something that stunned Zhao An: "I invite Master Ji to speak a few words on behalf of the Magistrate."
Ji Bochang stood and spoke of the Magistrate’s deep concern for the Tax Bureau, expressing his hope that they would successfully complete the summer tax collection and become a model for all of Yangzhou Prefecture. After the official pleasantries, he suddenly turned to Commissioner Ding. "By the way, the Yamen’s Revenue Department is short of help. Do you have any quick-witted, industrious young men in your bureau? I’d like to transfer one to handle the emergency."
With the Magistrate’s representative speaking, and the chance to "lend" a man to the Yamen, Ding Zhenglong was perfectly cooperative. Soon, Zhao An, Liu Xiaolou, and three other young men were summoned to the office for Master Ji to select. It was clear this was a setup—a job opening tailored for someone specific.
In the end, the person chosen by Master Ji to be transferred to the Revenue Department was none other than Zhao An.