Under the mixture of sympathetic gazes and thinly veiled glee from those around him, Zhu Ping’an completed his reporting duties, and—guided by a pair of yamen runners—made his way toward the place where he would now work: the Imperial Library Pavilion.

The Library Pavilion sat solidly with its back to the north and its face toward the south. From the outside it appeared to be a simple two-story structure, but once inside one could see that it actually contained three levels, with a hidden mezzanine tucked between the eaves. Its footprint was large, roughly the size of six full rooms placed side by side. The entire structure was built of blue-gray stone bricks, and its roof was covered with black glazed tiles. Not a single wooden beam or column existed anywhere in the building—an uncompromising design completely devoted to fire prevention. Even the black tiles were chosen deliberately; in the minds of ancient craftsmen, the color black belonged to the element of water, and water subdued fire. The entire pavilion was a fortress built to protect knowledge from flame.

Outside, a wide man-made pool glimmered with green ripples. Should fire ever break out, water could be drawn immediately from the pool to extinguish the flames.

Zhu Ping’an stood before the pavilion, taking in the serene scenery, the quiet pool, and the solemn stonework. This place is wonderful… so why did everyone look at me with pity? Why that hint of schadenfreude? he wondered, puzzled.

Led inside by the yamen runner, he reached his designated work area: a small set of tables and chairs arranged on the left side of the main hall—his future desk. Besides him, three minor clerks, all low-ranking and far from the center of power, worked here as custodians, sweeping dust and watching over the books. The real task of sorting, cataloging, and archiving would fall squarely on his shoulders.

Once inside, Zhu Ping’an began to understand why others had looked at him that way.

The interior of the Library Pavilion was a vast ocean of books, an overwhelming sea of volumes stacked so high and so wide that they blurred into something like mist. On just the first floor alone, there must have been tens of thousands of books, arranged with more chaos than order. Some books were placed neatly on shelves, but many more were piled into the cabinets in crooked stacks, leaning like worn-down city walls. Some volumes had collapsed entirely, spilling into messy heaps.

The bookshelves themselves were made from precious golden nanmu, beautiful and fragrant with age, yet frustratingly impractical—not at all like the clearly labeled, orderly shelves of a modern library. Here, beauty triumphed over usability.

Zhu Ping’an walked through the three floors and quickly saw the pattern: only the volumes of the Yongle Dadian were arranged with any real care. Everything else was in varying degrees of disarray. Compared with the tidy libraries of his own time, this pavilion looked less like an archive and more like a swarm of headless flies.

Remove AdsHe had barely settled into his new post when Zhang Siwei arrived, accompanied by another Hanlin scholar of about thirty years, a slightly older man who had been navigating the Hanlin Academy’s corridors for nearly three years. His name was Zhang Bo, a fellow townsman of Zhang Siwei, and the two had been fortunate enough to be assigned to the same division.

“Ahem… why is it such a mess in here?” Zhang Siwei muttered as he stepped into the cavernous hall, staring at the waves of books with a helpless sigh.

“The third floor is even worse,” Zhu Ping’an said with a small laugh. “Want me to show you?”

“No need. There’ll be plenty of chances once I start helping you tidy this place.” Zhang Siwei shuddered at the thought and quickly declined. Then he introduced his senior fellow townsman.

Zhu Ping’an rinsed the teacups and brewed a pot of the academy-issued tea. The leaves were plain, nothing special, but he wasn’t picky. As they drank, Zhang Siwei promised to bring better tea from home next time. Zhu Ping’an accepted with a grateful smile.

“Zihou,” Zhang Bo began, lifting his cup, “did you offend Lord Li somehow?”

Zhu Ping’an shook his head and recounted his guess about the incident in the Golden Throne Hall. There was no reason to hide it.

“I see. That explains it.” Zhang Bo nodded, lowering his voice. “No wonder. Our Academy Director and Grand Secretary Yan are old rivals. First impressions stick. Even if you tried explaining, it might only make things worse. But Lord Li isn’t an unreasonable man. Once the misunderstanding clears up, you should be able to leave this… well… exile.”

“Exile?” Zhu Ping’an looked around at the books again, confusion deepening. “But this place is—if anything—a treasure trove. Sorting everything will be tiring and time-consuming, yes, but with all these books as company, how is this ‘exile’?”

Zhang Bo chuckled. “Ah, you’re still young.”

“How so?” Zhu Ping’an asked.

“Books are all you’ll have here,” Zhang Bo explained. “We spent ten years reading for the imperial exams—haven’t we read enough? Now that you’re an official, do you think many people still keep up the habit? Most have already forgotten half of what Confucius and Mencius taught. Officials are swamped with affairs; who has time for more reading?”

He leaned forward slightly. “The Hanlin Academy is a noble place, Zihou, but to be blunt—your assignment is as close to exile as it gets. The Academy is called the nursery of future prime ministers because our daily tasks are more than work—they train us in governance, broaden our knowledge, and build experience.”

Zhang Bo, a natural storyteller, took another sip of tea and warmed up further.

“For example, I’m currently responsible for drafting imperial edicts. By the way, I drafted your esteemed mother’s investiture decree.” He smiled proudly at Zhu Ping’an.

“My thanks, Brother Zhang,” Zhu Ping’an replied quickly.

Remove Ads“No need for thanks—it’s my duty,” Zhang Bo waved off the gratitude. “The point is, drafting edicts may look like a simple job, but it’s actually essential training. You get familiar with state affairs, adapt to government work, learn how things are done in the empire.”

Zhu Ping’an and Zhang Siwei both nodded in understanding.

Encouraged, Zhang Bo continued energetically. “Take Zisi here—he’s working on the Song Dynasty Veritable Records. Doing so helps him understand the political precedents of the Song. The more he understands, the more he learns about the art of governing. Then there’s the lecture service we Hanlin scholars perform before the Emperor—that sharpens our knowledge of rituals, policies, and the workings of the court, while also strengthening our relationship with His Majesty. Sometimes we join policy discussions or court debates, learning from top scholars and powerful ministers. The opportunities are endless.”

He set down his cup with a flourish. “All of these things build experience and polish our abilities.”

Zhu Ping’an refilled his cup again. Zhang Bo nodded approvingly and pressed on:

“But your post, Zihou… is different. No opportunities, endless drudgery, and you’re isolated from the outside world. Cataloging books won’t teach you much, and you won’t get to meet the Emperor or the powerful. And you’ve seen how chaotic this place is. Some books are harder to find than needles in the sea. When His Majesty occasionally sends a slip requesting a specific book…” Zhang Bo let out a long whistle. “The previous two scholars in charge were scolded miserably. One of them, Master Liu, spent nearly all his savings just to get reassigned.”

No perks. No chances. No training. Exhausting, tedious, and worst of all—guaranteed to bring reprimands.

Ah, Zhu Ping’an realized. So that’s why everyone looked at me with sympathy and gloating.

“It’s really not that bad,” he said lightly, sipping his tea.

“Not that bad?” Zhang Bo stared at him in disbelief. “Ah, youth. So fearless.”

“Zihou, just endure for now,” Zhang Siwei added, patting him on the shoulder. “After some time, I’ll ask my uncle to speak for you.”

I’m being serious… Zhu Ping’an thought helplessly.

“At least the Emperor sometimes asks for books,” Zhu Ping’an offered.

Zhang Bo nearly dropped his cup. “Stop right there! You should pray His Majesty never asks.” He raised three fingers dramatically. “In the last three years, I know of three times when the Emperor sent a slip for a book. Each time it was near impossible. Not even a whole team could find it quickly. The fastest took a full day and night. And every time, the responsible scholars were scolded harshly. Poor Master Liu was even beaten with the court rod… it was miserable.”

Zhu Ping’an looked at the mountain of classics and histories rising around him and exhaled silently.

Remove AdsWell… whatever it is, I’m now a librarian of the Ming Dynasty.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep