Chen Baoxiang arrived at the government office to report for duty first thing the next morning.

The Bureau of Industry’s main office, the Military Affairs Yamen, was ranked on par with the Patrol Camp — a prestigious institution that gathered the finest martial talent from across the land. The people within it had naturally risen through rigorous selection, every one of them.

For a connected-appointment to simply descend out of nowhere as a recording secretary — someone who appeared to be a frail and feeble woman, no less — who could honestly feel at ease with that?

So the moment Chen Baoxiang stepped through the door, she was assigned the most leisurely of duties.

She stared with some puzzlement at the plants arranged before her. “You’re saying that as long as I water these once a day, I’ll receive fourteen taels in monthly salary?”

“That is correct,” the deputy official replied deferentially.

Chen Baoxiang was stunned.

She did love money — but having money simply handed to her like this made even her conscience twinge.

She looked left and right. She tried to offer her help to Recording Secretary Su managing a dispute, or to stand in for Recording Secretary Zhao in a tense standoff.

But both of them politely declined: “My lord need only remain in the office. Leave the rough work to us.”

Chen Baoxiang found this maddening. All the other recording secretaries were run ragged with work, while she could only stand there staring blankly at those two rows of plants.

At noon, Deputy Official Zong Li came rushing in to report to Recording Secretary Su, who had just caught a moment to breathe. “The grain collection in An County has stalled — more hands are needed.”

Recording Secretary Su’s expression changed the instant he heard it. He waved his hands repeatedly. “I’m short on staff here as well. Send word to Recording Secretary Zhao.”

“But Recording Secretary Zhao still hasn’t finished his own work…”

“Then wait until he does!”

The deputy official fell silent, looking visibly troubled.

Chen Baoxiang immediately pressed forward. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Recording Secretary Su shot her an irritated glance and waved her off. “This isn’t a task you can take on.”

“We’re both recording secretaries — if you can do it, why can’t I?” Chen Baoxiang was genuinely bewildered. “Am I drawing less salary than you?”

Recording Secretary Su was struck speechless — and then almost laughed in spite of his annoyance. “Unbelievable — here’s someone who doesn’t know what’s good for her even when it’s handed to her. Fine, fine — you want to go, go ahead. But you’ll need to report to your supervising official first. It’s your own choice.”

From the tone of his voice, this assignment was clearly no great prize. But Chen Baoxiang was energized by it.

She took up the authorization token and appointment papers at once and went to summon men.

Rain had fallen over Shangjing that day, leaving mud and mire everywhere. The soldiers in the Military Affairs Yamen were sluggish and listless — even when shown the token, they dragged their feet.

“My lord, An County is fifty li from Shangjing — riding is unavoidable. In weather like this, the horses are all snug in their stalls eating hay. Who in their right mind wants to move?”

“Exactly. We only just got back from a shift, soaked in sweat from head to toe. You can’t use our labor just for the sake of your own accomplishments and treat us like we don’t matter.”

They cast a glance at her empty hands, and several soldiers curled their lips with pointed sarcasm. “Working under you, there’s not even a hardship supplement. Might as well go haul grain sacks at the dock — at least they pay twenty or thirty coins a day.”

These men had clearly not taken this newly dropped recording secretary seriously, and were openly asking her for money.

In the case of another newly appointed official, that money might well have been paid — after all, great ambitions require overlooking minor annoyances.

But this was Chen Baoxiang. A woman who would dive into the sea to retrieve a single fallen copper coin. And they wanted to talk money with her?

She immediately drew her small face into a scowl. “So I’d need to pay a hardship supplement out of my own pocket? Then I won’t use you at all — I have my own people.”

“My lord.” Deputy Official Zong Li hurried over to advise her. “Grain collection is no small matter. A scattered dozen or so hands simply won’t be enough. This is a cost that has to be paid.”

Chen Baoxiang strode out with wide steps. “If a scattered dozen isn’t enough — will two hundred do?”

Zong Li froze, then scrambled to follow.

Grain collection was no simple affair. Zong Li assumed this young woman was rushing to make a name for herself, which was why she had taken on such a large undertaking. He planned to give her a thorough briefing on the situation during the journey.

But when Chen Baoxiang had gathered her forces, she issued orders with practiced ease: “First, check every weight and every basket. Then take a full count of the transport oxen and horses — no matter which estate or manor you pass through, not one head is to go missing.”

“The collectors going to the smaller households must stay sharp and be on their best behavior — no eating, drinking, or taking anything without permission, and absolutely no forced levies or violent collections. If any household is unable to pay their grain, record the reason individually. I will personally follow up to verify every case. No errors will be tolerated.”

“Furthermore — if you encounter any land sealed off and marked with wooden stakes, or if anyone arrives from a wealthy household or moneylender, surround them first and then report to me.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Her own batch of soldiers — the ones whose wages she had actually paid — were genuinely reliable. Not a single word of backtalk from any of them. They fell in line behind her and ran toward the city gates.

Zong Li watched with his mouth hanging open.

He scrambled onto his horse and rode up alongside Chen Baoxiang, smiling apologetically. “My lord, have you handled an assignment like this before?”

“Not at all.” She returned to her usual open, artless expression, smiling at the deputy official. “I’ll be relying on your guidance, Deputy Official Zong.”

Without any prior experience, she somehow already knew the broad landscape of rural grain collection — and had even foreseen the matter of moneylenders seizing fields?

Zong Li was thoroughly perplexed, but it was not his place to ask directly. He could only quietly speculate.

Grain collection was a thankless task. It required one to act harshly against farmers, and you were still liable to fall short on the quota, which meant the other recording secretaries all wanted nothing to do with it.

Zong Li couldn’t figure out what drove Chen Baoxiang’s energy — but she not only personally went out to walk the fields and call on farmers household by household, she even had someone compile a thick booklet of field notes.

He looked at the booklet with some alarm and thought about trying to put a stop to it.

But Chen Baoxiang’s companion Zhao Huaizhu was ferocious — she immediately stepped forward with her blade raised. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t touch my lord’s things.”

“But this — this isn’t right,” Zong Li said with a pained expression. “How can you take the word of these wild country folk at face value and have it all written down in an official record?”

“Deputy Official Zong, you haven’t even looked at it — how can you say it’s all unreliable?” Chen Baoxiang asked with a smile.

Zong Li waved it off. “These people can’t even read. They don’t know the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, they have no understanding of propriety or ritual. How could their words be worth committing to ink?”

At those words, Chen Baoxiang’s expression fell.

She turned her head and complained indignantly to Zhao Huaizhu. “He insulted me.”

Zhao Huaizhu cooperatively drew her sword. “I’ll cut him down right now.”

“That’s not quite right — there are so many witnesses here.”

“They’re all people who can’t even read. I imagine their testimony wouldn’t count for much either.”

As the last word fell, the blade left its sheath.

Zong Li was startled nearly out of his wits, eyes going wide. He found the women before him utterly outrageous.

But Chen Baoxiang’s people surrounded him on all sides. Living under someone else’s roof, he could only swallow his resentment and bow with clasped hands. “This subordinate was wrong. This subordinate was wrong.”

In his mouth, perhaps — but in his heart, he was not convinced. Zong Li had handled this assignment year after year, after all. He was not about to let a newly arrived connected-appointment do as she pleased.

Chen Baoxiang understood that perfectly well.

Still, it had been a familiar sight to her since childhood — corrupt officials squeezing the countryside dry. Even if she alone could not immediately root out the rot, she did not want to come all this way just to go through the motions.

She was a person recommended by the Great Immortal. Whatever his reputation and judgment were bound up in that reflected on her. No matter what duty she was given, she had to give it everything she had.