The golden hairpin was caught in her grip — but her opponent’s fist came down on her shoulder.

Chen Baoxiang stumbled back a few steps. Once she steadied herself, she examined the hairpin first, and only after confirming it was neither damaged nor bent did she let out a breath — then, belatedly, pressed her hand to her shoulder.

You.

Zhang Zhixu was in significant pain and roared furiously: I told you before we left — keep your dress simple. Why did you still wear this thing?!

My outfit is already plenty simple — I have to keep at least one piece on my head to make a proper impression.

She was also wincing and baring her teeth: What if we run into some young noble? I need a little something to give myself an air of standing, don’t I?

You came here to become a clerk, not to flirt with men!

Preparation and opportunity go hand in hand. Besides, Great Immortal — look. It seems we may have actually gotten lucky.

Chen Baoxiang looked up just in time to see Xu Buran striding toward her in quick steps, asking with anxious concern: “Are you alright, Miss?”

He was sixteen or seventeen — no trace of floral perfumes on him, just the scent of fierce sunlight on yellow sand, with grains of it sifting down along the edge of a sharp blade.

His eyes, dark and clear, looked up at her, full of guilt and worry.

Something inside Chen Baoxiang’s heart gave a bright, delicate chime — like the lighting of a lantern.

Zhang Zhixu was just about to ask what great stroke of luck this was, when he heard her put on the most artfully affected, pinched little voice: “It hurts so terribly~”

He let out a disgusted, half-laughing scoff: There she goes again.

And here he had thought she harbored some deep and abiding feeling for Pei Ruheng. As it turned out — the soil hadn’t even settled over that chapter, and she’d already found new trees coming up green ahead.

——That line of verse might not quite apply here, but he was too irritated right now to be precise about it. Good enough.

“Did she pass?” Zhang Zhixu forcefully cut in with his voice.

Xu Buran nodded. “We’re recruiting three people here. Of everyone who tested today, only Miss barely qualifies.”

“Barely?”

“Miss herself probably knows — plenty of strength, but technique is lacking.” He rubbed his own shoulder and smiled lightly. “If she can train further under the senior officers here at the office, I expect she’ll have a promising future.”

Zhang Zhixu heard this and curled his lip inwardly. That sort of remark only rang true coming from someone who had decisively won — a man who’d taken several solid blows from Chen Baoxiang had no business playing the gracious veteran.

He turned to share his thoughts with Chen Baoxiang.

Only to find her with both hands pressed together beneath her cheek, saying with a shy and demure air: “The officer is absolutely right — thank you so much, officer~”

His brow twitched without stopping. Zhang Zhixu gritted his teeth: Keep pinching your voice at him and I’ll plant a fist straight into his face.

Why? Does it sound that awful?

It wasn’t awful at all. Hearing it for the first time, one would even think the voice sweet and charming.

But he knew her far too well by now. One minute she was throwing around crude talk about dung going cold — and the next she turned around and called the man “officer” in that saccharine tone?

Just behave normally.

Zhang Zhixu dredged up a justification: After all, you’re here as a martial clerk — being too soft and delicate will make people look down on you.

That much was true. The entire office was staffed entirely by male martial clerks, and from the moment she stepped through the door she could feel a dozen eyes pressing down on her at once.

Zhang Zhixu was not unaccustomed to crowds — but those people had always kept their heads bowed in his presence. He had never before experienced what it was like to feel himself a piece of meat laid out on a cutting board.

He involuntarily stepped back half a pace: Perhaps we should just go to the other division after all?

Chen Baoxiang pushed on with deliberate effort: We’ve already come this far. And besides — in the Civil Division, the clerks are divided into such narrow duties. The market patrol officers can’t handle brawls. The accounting clerks can’t manage petitions. A martial clerk is better — you get to run all over the place.

She was describing things common to daily life among the people, but Zhang Zhixu found himself unexpectedly persuaded.

His original reason for sending Chen Baoxiang to the Bureau of Works had been to keep abreast of the latest developments inside the Bureau, so that Zhang Xilai and Jiuquan could issue timely orders and deployments. Being confined to a narrow, specialized role would actually be inconvenient.

And so Chen Baoxiang’s life as a government clerk began, just like that.

In Zhang Zhixu’s estimation, being a junior clerk was an easy enough matter — whatever problems arose would not fall on a clerk to bear responsibility for; one simply had to do one’s own assigned duties.

But why had no one told him that new arrivals to a government office could be bullied by their colleagues?

“Hey, that woman — move those stone locks for me.”

“Hey, that woman — the office needs to do a village patrol. You and Liu go.”

“Hey, that woman — pour me some tea.”

Listening to it all made Zhang Zhixu furious. They were all the same rank of clerk — why were they treating her like a servant?

Chen Baoxiang, however, was entirely unhurried about it. The first two demands she simply complied with. But the third — she picked up the teapot, and poured the scalding hot water directly onto that man’s hand.

“Aagh—!” Fan Tian cried out in pain, grabbed a sheathed blade from nearby and made to strike her with it.

Chen Baoxiang reacted instantly — she snatched the blade from him, kicked him squarely in the stomach, then vaulted over the man who came rushing up from behind and raised the scabbard to lay into them.

This sort of thing was commonplace in a martial clerks’ office. The superiors mostly turned a blind eye, treating it as sparring. In the past, new recruits who lost would endure and yield for a decade or more until they finally worked their way up.

But Chen Baoxiang didn’t have that kind of time. She could only beat these people into submission first, and hope the days after would go smoothly.

Five or six people brawling together wasn’t enough — martial clerks outside heard the commotion and came joining the fray.

Zhang Zhixu was genuinely worried about Chen Baoxiang getting the worst of it, and wanted to go find Xu Buran to protect her.

But Chen Baoxiang had gone red-eyed with the heat of battle and refused to back down. Instead she seized tables and chairs and hurled them at people without restraint, and for every blow she took she returned three.

In less than half an hour, the floor of the main hall was covered in fallen bodies, all moaning and clutching their heads and limbs.

Chen Baoxiang’s forehead had been split open, blood dripping steadily downward — but she sat at the doorway, watching the men inside, breathless and smiling. “Now that was interesting.”

She gave Fan Tian a kick with her foot. “My name isn’t ‘that woman.’ My name is Chen Baoxiang.”

Fan Tian’s face was covered in blood. Seeing that she had no intention of finishing him off, he felt a small measure of relief — but being laid low like this by a woman, his stubbornness still wouldn’t let him back down entirely. “What kind of country name is that — sounds like some nobleman’s maidservant.”

“It’s the finest-sounding name in our village.” She smiled. “Far better than something like Big Ox or Second Pillar.”

With that, she tossed his blade back to him.

Fan Tian sat up, cradling the blade, then hesitated a moment — and tossed it back to her. “Don’t you have a market patrol today? Take it.”

Warriors were like that — simple and direct. If you can beat me, then you’re the better person. From this day on I respect you.

But Zhang Zhixu still felt unsettled.

All those people — ganging up on her alone. Truly despicable.

And it was only because Chen Baoxiang was gifted with extraordinary strength. If another woman had come in her place, what would today’s outcome have been? The office did have rules on the books protecting new recruits — how had every one of these men chosen to ignore them entirely?

He made a private note to add more punitive measures, then followed Chen Baoxiang out the door, expressing his concern: “Your head wound.”

“It’s nothing.” She produced a cloth hair tie from somewhere and bound it around her forehead. “Just broke the skin — didn’t reach the bone.”

But it was very painful. You’re bleeding, and you still plan to go on patrol?

Young Master Zhang was once again succumbing to his noble household habits and wanted to go back and lie down. But Chen Baoxiang said with excitement: “Do you know where today’s patrol is?”

“Where?”

“Heyue Ward!”