I run a casino in the immortal realm.

Wan Kui is an easy person to get along with.

To be precise, he's a very well-connected person.

During his six years as a tax collector, there was no shopkeeper on Fengming Street he didn't know. Wherever he went, people would offer him tea and water. He was a smooth talker and a charming and shrewd person.

But being easy to get along with doesn't mean being easy to deal with.

Zheng Yifei observed for a day and a half and discovered that Wan Kui had a unique characteristic—he talked about everything but didn't teach anything.

In the morning, I took him through the streets and alleys, introducing the storefronts and names of 280 shops, but I didn't mention a single word about how to check accounts, how to calculate taxes, which figures to focus on, or which shady practices to turn a blind eye to.

This isn't about keeping secrets; it's the instinct of a seasoned veteran—the principle of teaching a disciple can lead to the disciple's downfall, a principle that applies in any world.

So Zheng Yifei decided to treat him to a meal.

"Brother Wan, are you free at noon? I'd like to treat you to lunch."

Wan Kui, who was hunched over the table flipping through account books, raised his eyelids upon hearing this: "Inviting you to dinner?"

"I've been in Qingyun City for over half a month and haven't had a proper meal at a restaurant yet. Brother Wan, let me treat myself to something delicious."

Wan Kui's lips curled up slightly, and his shrewd eyes swept over Zheng Yifei. The newcomer was treating the elder to a meal; how sensible.

But this newcomer's "sensibility" came in a way that was neither humble nor arrogant, not like flattery, but more like an invitation to cooperate.

"Sure, there's a restaurant called Zuixianlou in the East District that serves good spirit wine."

"The place Brother Wan chose must be pretty good."

Zuixianlou is located in the middle section of Fengming Street, on the second floor with private rooms.

Zheng Yifei didn't stand on ceremony and ordered a table full of hearty dishes. Braised pork knuckle, chicken stewed with Ganoderma lucidum, steamed century-old river carp, stir-fried Ganoderma lucidum platter, cold lotus root salad, plus a jar of Qingyuan Spirit Wine aged for thirty years.

After the waiter quoted the price, Wan Kui raised an eyebrow.

This meal costs at least twenty spirit stones, enough for two months of his monthly salary.

"Xiao Zheng, what a mess you made..."

Wan Kui picked up his wine bowl, his tentative tone hidden in his smile.

"Brother Wan, please don't be so formal. Although I have five spiritual roots, I did some small business before coming to Qingyun Sect and I still have some savings."

Zheng Yifei poured him a full glass of wine, speaking casually.

Wan Kui's eyes darted around. Five spiritual roots, Qi Refining Level 8, seventeen years old, and extravagant spending. He had run a small business before coming here—what kind of small business could allow a teenager to accumulate such wealth?

Most of them are scions of wealthy families from various markets who come to the Qingyun Sect for further studies.

There's no harm in befriending this kind of person.

Wan Kui's attitude visibly warmed up a bit.

After downing the first bowl of wine, Wan Kui began to talk about the personnel relationships within the tax office.

During the second meal, we talked about the classification of businesses on different streets and their unspoken rules.

After the third bowl, she really opened up.

"Xiao Zheng, don't underestimate our tax office. There's a lot going on here."

Wan Kui, gnawing on a pork knuckle, his face glistening with oil, said, "Of the more than 600 businesses in the East District, less than half actually pay their taxes honestly. The rest either underreport their revenue, owe taxes, or simply don't pay at all."

"Not paying? Aren't you afraid of being investigated by law enforcement?"

"check?"

Wan Kui laughed and slammed his chopsticks on the table: "You think the Enforcement Hall is just doing the work for our General Affairs Hall? They're in charge of major matters like sect security and disciple disputes. As long as the tax issues don't cause a huge problem, they won't bother with them."

"What about those who are behind on their payments?"

"Just keep urging them. If they don't pay after three reminders, we report it to Director Yang, who then reports it to the Tax Bureau, which in turn reports it to the General Affairs Department. The General Affairs Department then sends a letter to the relevant supervisor or supervisor, letting them handle it themselves. After going through all that, three months have passed, and in the end, it usually just fizzles out."

Wan Kui shook his head.

"So, if you do a good job as a tax collector, no one will remember you; if you do a bad job, you're the one who will suffer."

The smartest thing to do is to stay out of the limelight, avoid trouble, straighten out your own affairs, collect your dues each month, pay your due taxes, and live a peaceful and uneventful life.

Zheng Yifei poured him more wine but didn't reply.

Wan Kui's philosophy of life is understandable; in this kind of institutional environment, keeping a low profile and doing things well is indeed the safest option.

After several rounds of drinks, Wan Kui's face turned as red as a fruit, and his tongue began to slur. But his enthusiasm only grew, and he talked about everything from merchants' gossip to the inside story of the tax office, from Director Yang's temper to the background of Tax Commissioner Zhou Demao, speaking without reservation.

Zheng Yifei only drank two bowls, and his mind was perfectly clear.

He categorized and stored every piece of information in his mind.

This meal costs twenty spirit stones, it's worth it.

After dinner, back at the tax office, Wan Kui, hiccuping from drinking, pulled a stack of account books waist-high from the cabinet and slammed them onto Zheng Yifei's desk with a bang.

"This is the business ledger for Fengming Street last month, 280 businesses. Familiarize yourself with it first, so you'll have a better understanding when collecting taxes next month."

He patted Zheng Yifei on the shoulder, chuckled, and sat back down in his seat. Within moments, he was snoring on the table.

Zheng Yifei looked at the stack of account books and remained silent for a moment.

He pulled out the top book and opened it.

A single sheet of paper, densely covered with calligraphy.

It's neither simplified nor traditional Chinese characters; it's the spiritual script commonly used in the cultivation world—even more complex than traditional characters. The character "灵" (spirit) alone has nineteen strokes, and the character "石" (stone) looks like a talisman when written.

The key point is that there are no Arabic numerals.

This is what Hongfu Restaurant's accounts looked like last month—

"On the first day of the Lunar New Year, income was 300 spirit stones. Expenses: 50 spirit stones for labor, 80 spirit stones for materials, and 30 spirit stones for miscellaneous expenses. Profit was 140 spirit stones, and taxes payable were 140 spirit stones."

The daily transaction history filled an entire page.

Thirty days of running water, thirty pages of paper.

The end-of-month summary is another two pages long.

One store makes one booklet per month, so 280 stores make 280 books, and 840 books per quarter.

Moreover, they were all made with calligraphy brushes, one stroke at a time.

Zheng Yifei flipped through five books, and his temples began to throb.

He flipped through several more books, and the more he flipped through, the more his head ached. The problem wasn't just the low writing efficiency; the accounting formats were also a mess—each store had a different format for its ledgers. Some were recorded by day, some by ten-day period, some had income and expenses mixed together, and some were written separately but with inconsistent classification standards.

To find out a store's true monthly profit, you would have to read the entire book.

If you want to compare the business conditions of different shops on the same street, you have to flip through dozens of booklets at the same time, flipping through them with your left hand and calculating with your right, while simultaneously converting traditional Chinese numbers in your mind.

This kind of fire, if it were on Earth, could be solved in minutes with an Excel spreadsheet.

If I leave it here, I won't be able to figure it out in three to five days.

Zheng Yifei closed the ledger and stood up.

Wan Kui was snoring loudly, fast asleep.

He tiptoed out of the tax office and turned left into the alley next door. At the end of the alley was a general store; he had glanced at it when he passed by the day before yesterday, and saw feather dusters and brooms hanging at the entrance.

I spent three spirit coins to enter and bought a few goose feathers.

He spent two more spirit coins to buy a ruler.

Back at the tax office, Wan Kui was still snoring.

Zheng Yifei sat down, picked up a goose feather, used a hunting knife to trim the soft feathers at the end, and cut the tip at a 45-degree angle. He then dipped it in the spiritual ink from the inkstone to test it.

The lines are fine and even, ten times more precise than those of a calligraphy brush.

He nodded in satisfaction, took a blank sheet of spiritual paper, and used a ruler to trace the edges, drawing a neat table.

The table headers, from left to right, are: Date, Total Revenue, Labor, Materials, Miscellaneous, Total Expenses, Profit, and Taxes Payable.

Numbers do not require spiritual texts.

他用的是前世的阿拉伯数字——1、2、3、4、5。

One page, thirty lines, exactly one month's worth of data.

Zheng Yifei opened the thick, brick-like quarterly ledger of Hongfu Restaurant and began to transcribe it.

The lengthy 30-page document was condensed into a single table.

Three months' worth of accounts, three pages long.

The second, the third, and the fourth.

A quill pen is five times faster than a brush pen, a table saves 80% of the paper space compared to a diary, and Arabic numerals are three times faster than Linguistics.

With these three benefits combined, a store's quarterly accounts can be copied in just half a cup of tea.

Wan Kui's snoring stopped.

He turned over, opened his eyes groggily, and saw Zheng Yifei hunched over the table, writing furiously. There was a neat row of papers on the table.

"What should I write?"

"Target the accounts."

Wan Kui walked over yawning, looked down, and froze.

"What is this?"

He pointed to the numbers in the table: "What do these crooked symbols mean?"

"A simplified way of counting."

Zheng Yifei pointed to the top of the table, "This vertical line represents one, and this circle represents zero. The sum of the horizontal and vertical lines is clear at a glance. One page contains all the data for a store in a month. Horizontally, it shows the daily turnover, and vertically, it shows the total of all income and expenses for the month."

Wan Kui stared at the table for a long time.

Although he couldn't understand those strange symbols, the structure of the table was crystal clear—the rows and columns were distinct, and the correspondences were obvious at a glance, making it infinitely more intuitive than flipping through thirty pages of a diary.

"My God, did you really come up with this?"

Wan Kui smacked his lips, his expression strange.

He had worked as a tax collector for six years and never imagined that account books could be kept like this.

Zheng Yifei continued to transcribe, the quill pen making a fine rustling sound as it traced lines on the spirit paper.

Ma Kui took a form and went out.