Zhao An knew exactly how a newcomer had to act. Did he really need someone to tell him what to do?
Sweeping floors, pouring tea, and wiping tables—these were the basics. Without mastering these, unless you had powerful connections, you could never hope to gain a foothold in any organization, not to mention the fact that your superiors and colleagues would form a poor opinion of you. If they didn't like you, how could you ever hope to advance?
Regardless of the era, the rules of the game—whether in the bureaucracy or the workplace—remained the same. Zhao An kept a very grounded mindset. He didn't feel that working as a menial laborer at the Tax Bureau was a waste of his talents or that he was a misunderstood genius. From his first day, he threw himself into the work completely, without holding anything back.
After all, every beginning is difficult. How did the old saying go? "Great generals must rise from the ranks; great ministers must start from the provinces."
With a solid foundation of frontline work experience, a flexible way of handling people and affairs, and perhaps the help of a benefactor, he might just manage to earn a proper official position by the time that turtle-son of an emperor, Qianlong, finally kicked the bucket. As for the future, he would let fate decide. For now, the starting stage had to be rock-solid; he could not afford to drop the ball.
With this attitude, Zhao An was incredibly industrious at the Tax Bureau. He kept a low profile, treating everyone he met—from the lowliest laborer to the elderly—with the utmost respect. Even Wu Laoer, the gatekeeper who couldn't read a single character, was addressed as "Grandpa" every time they crossed paths. He always arrived before everyone else and was the last to leave. Whenever there was dirty or exhausting work, he was the first to volunteer, saving others the trouble of even asking.
Within days of joining, Zhao An had a clear grasp of the Tax Bureau's various departments and was on familiar terms with over a hundred colleagues. The Accounting Office, in particular, heaped praise on the new recruit. The supervisor, Zhang Quan, even told Wang Defa that he had a good nephew, which so pleased Wang Defa that he invited his nephew over to share a pot of wine.
The gist of their conversation was simple: if you want to stand out in front of others, you must be prepared to suffer in private. This was the lesson Wang Defa taught his nephew, the hard-earned wisdom from his own thirty years of scrambling and clawing his way up in the bureau. Despite his standing, he was neither an official nor a clerk, and getting his nephew a position here had already pushed the limits of his influence. Therefore, how far the boy would go depended entirely on his own efforts. If he couldn't make it, there was nothing his uncle could do. Success required one's own steel.
Zhao An took his uncle’s advice to heart. After half a month of menial labor, his proactive attitude finally led Zhang Quan, the head of the Accounting Office, to call him in for a "talk."
The conversation was highly formal—not much different from the meetings Zhao An had had with his bosses in his previous life. It consisted of some praise, a few questions about any difficulties he might be facing, inquiries about his vision for the bureau's future, and finally, the promise of a bright future—the standard "work hard and the bread and butter will follow" routine.
Once the pleasantries ended, his work assignment was settled: he would work under Wang Tai, a clerk in the Third Section.
"The Third Section is short on hands. Zhao An, you must work hard. Once your probationary period is over, I will submit your name to Commissioner Ding for a formal appointment."
With that, Zhang Quan turned his attention back to the ledger on his desk. Zhao An understood this meant the talk was over. He reflexively said, "I thank the organization... I mean, I thank you, sir, for your guidance. I will certainly serve diligently and live up to your expectations."
As he stepped out of the office, he felt a shiver of dread: the habits of his past life were truly etched into his soul. He had almost let the wrong words slip. He shouldn't be thanking the "organization"—he should be thanking the Great Qing and the imperial court!
After composing himself, he hurried to report to Wang Tai in the Third Section. The Accounting Office consisted of four sections, each functioning as a specialized team. The First Section handled commercial taxes; the Second dealt with butcher and slaughter taxes; the Third took care of miscellaneous market levies; and the Fourth oversaw real estate and land transactions.
The commercial tax was self-explanatory. The butcher tax applied to anyone selling pork or mutton within Ganquan County; they had to pay a levy to the government every month, making the bureau akin to an abattoir supervisor. Once the tax was paid, the meat was stamped. Without that stamp, the meat was considered "illicit" and could not be sold; if someone tried, the authorities would simply seize it and destroy it. The miscellaneous market levy, however, was a classic "exorbitant tax"—a flexible, irregular fee charged whenever the county needed money. The amount depended entirely on the tax collector’s mood. The land and real estate tax was, as the name implied, a property tax. When families bought or sold land, they came to the Tax Bureau to get official documentation to ensure the transaction was valid and to prevent future disputes. Why would the government provide such certification and guarantees for free? Exactly: pay the tax, and everyone is happy.
Among the four sections, the First had the most "gravy"—the most lucrative opportunities—followed by the Second, then the Fourth. The Third Section, where Zhao An was assigned, had the least. Because the miscellaneous market levies were so unpredictable, there was no steady flow of income compared to the other sections. However, as a newcomer, Zhao An couldn't expect the best position right away. Besides, his mentor, Liu Xiaolou, was also in the Third Section; by seniority, Liu should have been in a better section first. It seemed clear now that Zhang Quan had intended to put Zhao An in the Third Section from the start, which was why he had assigned Liu Xiaolou to guide him.
Perhaps due to limited space or a small staff, the four sections worked in a single large room, with each group occupying a corner and shelves full of ledgers and documents lining the middle. As soon as Liu Xiaolou returned from the latrine and heard that Zhao An had been assigned to the Third Section, he immediately dragged him to see Wang Tai.
Zhao An already knew Wang Tai, having spent half a month pouring his tea and wiping his desk. Wang Tai appeared crafty and worldly. In his personal interactions, aside from the occasional sarcastic remark to his colleagues, he was actually quite decent. He was about forty and, like Zhao An, a licentiate who had never passed the civil service exams.
Upon entering the room, Liu Xiaolou led Zhao An to Wang Tai, who was busy with his calculations. "Mr. Wang, Zhao An has been assigned to your section by the supervisor. What would you like him to do?"
"Oh, he's with me?"
Wang Tai set down his abacus, looked up at Zhao An, smiled, and asked, "How is your abacus work?"
"To be honest, sir, I am not very proficient." Zhao An knew better than to boast when it came to specific technical tasks, so he admitted his lack of skill.
"That's fine. You'll learn with practice."
Since Wang Tai had a batch of accounts to verify, he had Liu Xiaolou fetch an abacus from the supply clerk for Zhao An. He then handed him an old ledger he had already checked himself, instructing Zhao An to calculate the figures for the day. Naturally, Wang Tai kept the final results for himself—a clear test to see if Zhao An was diligent and detail-oriented.
After all, one could not be a clerk without a meticulous mind.