The Ministry of Personnel official nodded and turned to leave.

Only after the carriage had disappeared down the alley did Xu Qing suddenly lunge forward and grab Su Ming’s shoulders hard.

“Brother Su! Did you hear that? Hanlin Academy! Seventh-rank Compiler!”

He babbled incoherently, his eyes red, happier than if he had won the Ministry of Revenue post himself.

Su Ming could only force a rigid smile and let him shake him, while inside he felt ice-cold.

This official robe—truly hot to the touch.

Three days later, Su Ming stepped into that grand complex in the southeast corner of the imperial city for the first time as an official.

The Hanlin Academy.

Unlike the austere Ministry of Personnel office, there were no rows of soldiers and no hurried clerks here.

The academy gate was simple; even the gold paint on the signboard had flaked away in places.

The moment he entered, the clamor of the outside world was completely cut off.

Towering ancient locust trees and sturdy cypress sliced the sky into small shards of blue. Sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, casting mottled shadows on the bluestone pathways that swayed gently with the breeze.

The air carried a unique scent: the age of old book paper, the deep fragrance of precious wood, the bitter clarity of ink cakes, all mixed to form a heavy atmosphere called “history.”

It was too quiet.

Quiet enough to hear his own heartbeat, quiet enough to catch, faintly, the sound of pages being turned in a distant study.

This kind of silence was not peaceful; it pressed down like an invisible weight that made one afraid to breathe loudly.

Following directions, Su Ming crossed a stone bridge and arrived at a three-story pavilion named the Wenyuan Pavilion, where the compilers did their daily work.

He climbed the steps; the wooden stair creaked “squeak” from frequent use.

The second floor opened into a large, airy hall.

Dozens of black-lacquered writing desks stood in neat rows, and behind each desk sat a figure.

Some buried their heads in towering stacks of scrolls, some held brushes and wrote in concentration, and some sat with eyes closed, thoughts drifting elsewhere.

This was the “brain center” of the Great Xing Dynasty.

Su Ming’s arrival was like a pebble dropped into a still pond.

Almost the instant he stepped into the hall, a dozen gazes from all directions aimed at him, impassive but piercing.

Those looks were intensely complicated.

A few elderly men in the front rows, hair white, glanced at him briefly and then withdrew their eyes. Their looks were like watching a falling leaf, full of worldly detachment and utterly calm.

But the younger colleagues, roughly Su Ming’s age, were more interesting.

Curiosity, scrutiny, unhidden jealousy, and a trace of contempt showed in their eyes.

Su Ming knew his identity was no longer a secret.

Second division, tenth place; Zhou Wenhai’s disciple; a penniless scion with no backing.

Those labels stuck together made him destined to be an outlier.

He belonged neither to the circles of established families with patrons behind them, nor could he blend with the veteran Hanlin who had clawed their way up by seniority.

“You’re Su Ming?”

A slightly sharp voice sounded.

Su Ming turned toward it and saw a young man wearing the same official robe, arrogance written on his face, leaning against a desk with arms folded and casting a sidelong glance at him.

It was Qian Bin from the Qionglin Banquet.

He had been assigned to the Hanlin Academy as well.

A thought flashed through Su Ming’s mind and he immediately put on a respectful expression, stepped forward, and cupped his hands in salute. “Greetings, Brother Qian.”

Qian Bin let out a derisive laugh, small but loud enough for several nearby desks to hear.

“Alright, Qian Bin, enough. Newcomer arrived, don’t scare him.”

A more moderate voice came from nearby.

The speaker was a young man copying something at a desk beside Qian Bin; without looking up he offered a faint remark.

But his words, framed as advice, actually fixed Su Ming as the frightened, weak newcomer.

Inside the ring, Lin Yu hummed and grumbled: Here we go, Lesson One of workplace bullying. Disciple, steady yourself, don’t get dragged along. Remember your newbie role: naive, harmless, slow to react.

Su Ming seemed not to notice the scorn behind Qian Bin’s words; his face retained that awkward, rustic earnestness of a countryside youth entering a grand scene for the first time.

“Brother Qian jokes. I am shallow in learning and rely on luck. In the future at the academy, I will need the guidance and support of seniors and colleagues.”

He spoke with immense sincerity and humbled posture, as if he truly believed he had stumbled in by luck.

Qian Bin’s ready store of ridicule met only cotton and found no purchase.

Seeing Su Ming’s “sincere” face, he choked on his words, snorted coldly, turned his head, and ignored him.

At that moment, a middle-aged man wearing the sixth-rank Reader-in-Attendance robe stepped out from an inner office.

Lean-faced, sporting a goatee, his eyes sharp as he scanned the room, his gaze finally fixed on Su Ming.

“You’re the new compiler, Su Ming?”

“Junior official Su Ming, greetings, Reader Guo.” Su Ming hurriedly stepped forward and bowed.

This Reader Guo was the immediate supervisor responsible for managing the new compilers.

Guo gave a nasal “hmm,” a bureaucratic sound laced with restraint and indifference.

He sized Su Ming up and down; the look wasn’t that of evaluating a colleague but of appraising an object.

“I have read your exam papers,” Guo said slowly. “Your handwriting is fairly tidy. As for your essays, they are skilled but lack spirit. Young man, don’t always try to cite the classics and repeat others’ words. The Hanlin Academy needs genuine talent who can ease the emperor’s burdens, not bookish nerds who only write well.”

Those words immediately undermined the “stability” Su Ming had been proud of in the imperial exam.

Around them, Qian Bin’s mouth curled into a gleeful, schadenfreude smile.

“Yes, junior official is dull-witted. Thanks for your instruction, Lord Guo.” Su Ming bowed his head even lower, displaying a humble, teachable attitude.

“Hmph, good that you know you’re dull,” Guo seemed satisfied with his attitude, and from a stack of books beside him he pulled out the thickest volume and tossed it onto the empty desk before Su Ming.

That desk was the outermost one in the hall, closest to the door; freezing in winter, scorching in summer, with people passing by constantly—the worst position.

“This is your desk,” Guo pointed to it. “Since you’re new, start from the basics. Read through this Da Xing Compendium, then hand-copy it three times. Use Hanlin-standard characters, stroke by stroke, with no mistakes. When you’ve finished copying, come find me.”

Copy books?

Three times?

This brick-thick Da Xing Compendium contained at least a hundred thousand characters; copying it three times meant nearly half a million characters!

This was no longer a test of character; it was pure harassment, a show of authority to knock him down.

Qian Bin and the others’ faces showed an eager anticipation of a spectacle.

“Damn! That old man is brutal! He’s treating us like copy machines!” Lin Yu in the ring cursed loudly.

Su Ming’s heart sank.

But when he raised his head, his face showed gratitude and delight.

“Thank you for your cultivation, Lord Guo!” He bowed deeply to Reader Guo, his tone sincere. “My foundation is shallow and needs such tempering. I will copy earnestly and not disappoint you!”

His unexpectedly wholehearted reaction stunned everyone.

Guo’s prepared litany of scolding was blocked midstream. He stared at Su Ming’s tearful, grateful-looking face, his expression turning odd.

Is this kid actually foolish, or merely pretending?

He watched Su Ming for a long moment, then waved his sleeve, snorted, and returned to the inner office.

“Ungrateful.”

Su Ming cradled the heavy Da Xing Compendium like a treasure and returned to his corner desk.

He could feel those complicated gazes resting on his back for a long time before gradually dispersing.

He sat and spread the paper, ground his ink, and picked up his brush.

Stroke by stroke, meticulous and focused, with no distractions.

Those rigid, neat Hanlin-standard characters appeared on the white xuan paper one by one from his brush.

The sun slanted west; golden late light poured through the wide window lattices, bathing the tranquil Wenyuan Pavilion in a warm glow.

People gradually stopped writing, packed up, and prepared to leave their posts.

When Qian Bin walked past Su Ming’s desk, he deliberately paused to glance at what Su Ming had copied.

The handwriting was tidy, faultless.

A flicker of contempt crossed his eyes—this kid really was just a bookish hard worker.

He shook his head, chatted with a few peers he knew, and walked away.

When the last person left, the second floor of Wenyuan Pavilion held only Su Ming.

He was still copying.

Only after the final thread of sunset vanished did he stop, gently working his stiffened wrist.

His spirit-sense spread out like a silent tide.

He “heard.”

On the first floor, in the archives, an old Hanlin coughed softly.

On the third floor, in the stacks, faint footsteps—an on-duty clerk making his rounds.

He even “heard” that Reader Guo had not left his private room.

There was another person inside.

“…That’s how it is,” Guo’s lowered voice carried a flattering tone. “I followed your instructions and knocked some sense into that boy. Punish him with copying, leave him to the margins for a few months, wear down his sharpness.”

“Hmm.” A stranger’s voice, slightly effeminate, replied. “Well done, but keep it measured. Don’t ruin him. The higher-ups have plans for him.”

“I understand, junior official does. It’s just… Su Ming seems dull; he doesn’t look capable of major responsibility. Today I gave him a hard time and he expressed gratitude—perhaps he’s an idiot.”

The effeminate voice laughed softly.

“An idiot? Reader Guo, no true fool can stand out in the imperial exams. He’s either deeply scheming, or… an uncut jade that needs careful carving.”

“Watch him. Report his every move, who he meets each day, what he says.”

“Yes, junior official will obey.”

Su Ming’s spirit-sense receded like a tide.

He slowly opened his eyes; ink-black depths filled them.

So Reader Guo’s harassment was not his personal whim but ordered from above.

And the person behind it clearly held higher rank.

From the moment this pawn was placed on the board, countless eyes from all directions had been fixed tightly on him.

He packed his things, blew out the candle, and left the Wenyuan Pavilion.

Night had deepened; the cold moon hung like a hook.

In the Hanlin Academy, ancient trees cast long, monstrous shadows on the ground.

Walking the silent bluestone path, Su Ming felt the weight of the seventh-rank robe on his body grow heavier.

Not far from the Hanlin gate, a familiar figure came up to meet him.

It was Xu Qing.

He had clearly been waiting a while, chilled by the night air.

“Brother Su! You finally came out! How was your first watch? Are the great scholars in the academy very learned?” Xu Qing’s face shone with curiosity and excitement.

He enthusiastically recounted his experiences at the Ministry of Personnel.

“Today I followed Director Li and sorted through ten years of old accounts—my head’s spinning! But I learned so much. I had no idea the court’s taxation had so many intricacies!”

His eyes glittered; he had found a place to apply himself.

Su Ming looked at him with some envy.

“Pretty good.” Su Ming smiled simply and concisely. “The academy is quiet; colleagues concentrate on study. I received a task: copying books.”

“Copying books?” Xu Qing blinked. “Well, that’s good! The books in the Hanlin are unique treasures. To read and copy more is a blessing!”

He clearly didn’t catch the deeper meaning behind “copying books.”

Seeing Xu Qing’s sincere face, Su Ming swallowed the words he had nearly spoken.

He couldn’t tell him he was being sidelined, sent to the corner.

They walked side by side, one full of boundless hope for the future, the other hiding worries deep inside.

Xu Qing patted Su Ming’s shoulder vigorously. “Brother Su, on our next day off let’s go have a proper drink to celebrate our bright futures!”

“Okay.” Su Ming replied.

“Brother Su, Director Li at the Ministry of Personnel has taken a liking to me and assigned me many tasks. Traveling daily to the south of the city is a bother. I… plan to move into the ministry’s official lodgings in a couple of days. It will be simple, but convenient, and I’ll have more time at night to sort documents.” Xu Qing’s face showed excitement and a touch of awkwardness.

He paused, looking apologetic. “But that means I won’t be able to room with you.”

Su Ming understood—this was Xu Qing’s style: practical, seizing opportunities.

He patted Xu Qing’s shoulder sincerely. “That’s good. Official duties come first. Living at the office will save travel and help you quickly get familiar with departmental work. We’re both in the capital, we’ll see each other plenty.”

Relaxed at Su Ming’s understanding, Xu Qing exhaled and smiled more easily. “Exactly! Brother Su, then you…”

“I am already looking for a place to live,” Su Ming picked up the thread calmly. “The Hanlin is peaceful but inconvenient for comings and goings. I plan to find a small courtyard nearby to stay, for quiet and convenient… studying.” He deliberately paused slightly on “studying,” as if a true Hanlin scholar absorbed in learning.

Xu Qing nodded without suspicion. “Appropriate, appropriate! Now that Brother Su is a Hanlin official, you should have a decent place. If you need help, just say the word.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep