Han Ji

And so another month passed.

During this period, apart from occasionally visiting Lu's residence to seek advice, Liu Bei spent most of his time in the small courtyard south of the city. Zhang Wu kept the courtyard in perfect order and even managed to obtain two old crossbows from somewhere, which he cleaned and maintained daily.

Liu Bei repeatedly studied the letters left by Lu Zhi, and occasionally strolled around the vicinity of the Imperial Academy, taking a distant look at the towering Xiping Stone Classics and watching the students gathered under the stone classics, debating and reciting them.

The prosperity and hustle and bustle of Luoyang seemed to be separated from him by a layer. He was like an observer who had dived underwater, watching the daily life of this imperial capital: the sounds of silk and bamboo instruments and banquets coming from the direction of the West Garden every night; occasionally, noble sons in fine clothes and riding spirited horses galloping through the streets; and there were also carriages dressed as eunuchs parading through the city with heavy guards.

He declined several invitations to banquets from his fellow officials. The way they looked at him was curious yet distant, probably because they thought he was an out-of-place, aloof, newly appointed scholar from the border region.

The imperial edict finally came down in mid-April.

When the imperial eunuch arrived, he read out the imperial decree with a high-pitched voice and a blank expression: "Liu Bei, a candidate for the civil service examination of Zhuojun, has passed the examination and his identity as a member of the imperial clan has been verified. He is hereby appointed as the Left Gentleman of the Palace, with a salary of 300 shi (a unit of grain), and is under the jurisdiction of the Guanglu Xun (a high-ranking official). He shall take up his post immediately."

There was no audience with the emperor.

Liu Bei accepted the imperial decree and expressed his gratitude. After seeing the eunuch off, he looked at the light, fluttering scroll in his hand and remained silent for a moment.

Left Gentleman of the Palace. One of the many Gentlemen of the Palace under the Guanglu Xun (Imperial Music Commissioner), responsible for palace guards and ceremonial duties, as well as document delivery and advisory services. His rank was 300 shi (a unit of grain), one of the lowest ranks among the Gentlemen of the Palace. A standard starting point, but also a stepping stone that countless people could never reach in their entire lives.

Lu Zhi arrived at the small courtyard in the south of the city that night.

He didn't seem surprised, even somewhat relaxed. "Not being able to meet the Emperor isn't necessarily a bad thing." The teacher sat at the simple desk, taking a sip of the coarse tea Zhang Wu had brewed. "His Majesty has been... more interested in other things lately. Not seeing him actually reduces trouble. Although the position of Left Assistant Minister is lowly, it comes from a respectable background. There's room for advancement in the future."

He put down his teacup and looked at Liu Bei: "Do you know about Dongguan?"

"You were assigned to the Dongguan Library, the place where the royal library was proofread, to collate Confucian classics."

"Yes." Lu Zhi nodded. "I've already spoken to them. In your spare time, you can often go to the East Pavilion to proofread books. It's quiet there, and a good place to accumulate experience and make friends with virtuous people. It's better than going out and socializing indiscriminately."

Liu Bei understood that his teacher was instructing him to keep a low profile. The daily duties of a court official were tedious; going to the Eastern Pavilion to proofread books would allow him to study while avoiding the limelight.

"The student understands."

"Furthermore," Lu Zhi lowered his voice, "Yuan Shao has been holding frequent gatherings at Puyuan recently, with many famous scholars gathering to discuss current affairs. You're new here, so don't get involved too easily. Observe, speak less, listen more, and don't express your opinion hastily."

"Yes."

Lu Zhi sat for a while longer, asked about Liu Bei's daily life, and then got up and left.

After seeing his teacher off, Liu Bei returned to his room. Zhang Wu approached him with a smile: "Military Advisor, General Liu! Does this mean we've become officials?"

Liu Bei looked at the scroll of appointment on the table, then at the deep night outside the window, and nodded.

I guess so.

Zuo Langzhong's days were like being etched into a funnel-sized scale, precise and repetitive.

At the hour of Yin (3-5 AM), when it was still thick with darkness, Liu Bei had to get up. Zhang Wu had already boiled water and prepared a simple breakfast—usually millet porridge and a flatbread. Liu Bei changed into his light scarlet official robes, put on his wooden tablet, and tied the bronze tally indicating his identity to his waist.

How to get out of the house: on foot.

It took almost half an hour to walk from the small courtyard in the south of the city to the Southern Palace. When an official entered the palace, his attendants were not allowed to follow. He walked alone, through the quiet streets and alleys in the pre-dawn darkness. His footsteps echoed in the empty streets, and occasionally the carriages of other officials who were also getting up early would pass by, their curtains tightly closed.

Upon reaching the side gate of the South Palace, after verifying the identification token, they entered the official residence. Colleagues arrived one after another, nodding to each other, with little in-depth conversation. The air was filled with an atmosphere mixed with weariness, reserve, and caution.

After roll call, they stood at attention, halberds in hand.

He was assigned to stand guard under the eaves of a side hall in the Southern Palace. The halberd was a ceremonial long halberd, quite heavy, and cold to the touch. His task was to stand there, maintaining a dignified appearance, with his gaze level, like another decorative figure before the hall.

The battle lasted two hours. Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to look away. Legs and feet went from aching and numb to losing sensation, then returning to a tingling pain. The winter wind could penetrate their clothes, and the summer sun could make their skin burn. Sweat, or cold sweat, soaked their inner garments, only to be slowly dried by their body heat.

Liu Bei began to understand why many officials couldn't endure the hardship and tried every means to use their connections to be transferred to remote areas, even to a small, remote county, which would be much better than this kind of life.

But he stood firm. On the battlefield of Lujiang, he had lay in ambush behind cold rocks for even longer. Compared to the tense life-or-death situation then, the monotony of this moment was a strange form of training. He used his standing to observe the architectural layout of the palace, the expressions and gaits of the officials passing by, the movement of cloud shadows in the courtyard, and to silently recite scriptures and decrees in his mind.

There is a short break at noon, during which you can eat and drink. Then in the afternoon, you will be assigned to the Imperial Secretariat to help organize and deliver documents.

The Secretariat was a place of great importance, with an atmosphere even more somber than the offices of the Imperial Secretaries. Those entering and leaving were hurried Imperial Secretaries and clerks, whispering amongst themselves about disasters, military affairs, and fiscal deficits in various regions. The air was thick with the smells of bamboo slips, ink, and dust.

Liu Bei mostly did manual labor: sorting the mountains of official documents by region and category, or delivering the approved documents to various government offices. He was efficient and taciturn, and the most favored servant among the Imperial Secretaries.

At the Imperial Secretariat, Liu Bei witnessed the true pulse of the empire. A county was flooded, and a request was made to reduce taxes; a peasant uprising in another region had been suppressed, and another request was made to reduce taxes; border counties requested increased military pay and tax reductions. Behind the cold documents lay the life, death, sorrow, and joy of countless people, and the increasingly heavy breathing of this vast empire.

It was late afternoon, the time to finish his shift. Stepping out of the palace gates, it was often already dusk. He walked again, through the streets lit up with lanterns, back to his quiet little courtyard in the south of the city. Zhang Wu had already prepared the meal, sometimes a simple meat soup, sometimes cooked meat bought from the market.

After meals, he would usually light an oil lamp, read, or organize his thoughts and observations from the day. He used the access pass Lu Zhi had given him to the Eastern Pavilion to proofread books in his spare time.

Inside the East Pavilion, the library was tall and secluded, filled with the scent of aged bamboo and silk scrolls. It was indeed quiet there, and those on duty were mostly elderly scholars or frustrated literati, paying little attention to him, the young official. He strolled slowly among the rows of tall bookshelves, occasionally pulling out a scroll to read, sometimes sitting there for an entire afternoon.