Zhù Ying came home from her rounds and planned to stay tucked in as much as possible. She still hadn’t gotten through the pile of documents Zheng Xi had given her, and Wang Yunhe’s copy of the Zuo Commentary sat untouched — and yet somehow she felt more anxious now than she had before the examination.

The examination had been nothing but filling out one piece of paper. What lay ahead was real life — incomparably more serious than one old wrinkled examination paper. A failed examination paper meant only a loss of face, and then sitting the exam again, or settling into a minor clerical role, or following Zheng Xi’s guidance to study the classics and act as his dependable junior. Failing to navigate officialdom correctly could mean catastrophe.

As she had told Jin Liang: there’s no room for only focusing on looking impressive — one has to be afraid as well.

She was up early the next morning.

Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da were up even before her. Zhang Xiangu had put Zhù Da to work carrying water while she made a large pot of rice gruel. She was slicing salted vegetables, and had put an extra egg on to boil for both Zhù Ying and Zhù Da. When she saw Zhù Ying was up, she smiled and said, “Quick — your father’s back with the water, go wash up and come eat!”

She was wiping her hands on her apron as she spoke. Her whole face radiated a happiness she couldn’t contain, and the silver hairpin at her temple caught the morning sunlight and gleamed.

Zhù Ying said, “Right!”

Breakfast was laid out in the hall. Zhang Xiangu said with pleasure, “Now we’re finally settled! And the third one is something like an official — no one can come and arrest them just like that anymore! Let’s eat well and live well!”

Zhù Ying peeled an egg and put it in her mother’s bowl. Zhang Xiangu said, “You eat it.”

Zhù Ying said, “What’s the point of one more egg? We’re not short of them anymore!”

Zhang Xiangu kept refusing. Zhù Ying broke the egg in two with her chopsticks: “That’s it — half each. Next time I’ll have two boiled, and if you refuse again I’ll throw them both into the pig pen next door!”

Zhang Xiangu scolded with mock affront: “Such a temper!” She grumbled but ate her half.

Once she’d cheered up again, she asked, “When do you start at the yamen?”

Zhù Ying said, “We have to wait for the credentials to come through. And then learn the protocols and rites, and have an official uniform made. That’ll take a few days. It’s actually a good chance to get some things sorted out beforehand so no one can catch me off guard.”

Zhù Da said, “That’s right! New arrivals always get a bit of a rough reception — can’t be sloppy about it!”

“Mm. Lord Zheng has already given me guidance on all of that.”

Zhang Xiangu said, “You have to hand it to Lord Zheng — he’s done right by us.”

The couple murmured on together, knowing nothing of the rules and customs of official life, but dispensing the practical wisdom of a life spent in the spirit-calling trade. Zhù Ying didn’t contradict them — just sat and listened, occasionally picking up a strip of salted vegetable to go with her rice.

She had always been quiet. In the past it was because her mother, Zhang Xiangu, could only stop talking in her sleep — every other waking moment was an unending stream of chatter, scolding this one, cursing that one. Zhù Ying had long since grown accustomed to it. Now it turned out that Zhang Xiangu — her mother — was also capable of talking without any cursing at all, of simply saying warm and ordinary domestic things. She had endured the scoldings without a word; there was nothing about this that she couldn’t listen to. She ate and listened, in an excellent mood.

She listened as Zhang Xiangu directed Zhù Da to go out and find some discarded planks to nail together a chicken coop, to gather some broken bamboo strips to weave a chicken cage, while she herself went to have a look around and buy some chicks. That way, leftover food could go to feeding the chickens. She also said she wanted to buy some coarse earthenware jars for pickling salted vegetables. Zhù Ying said, “Let’s also buy some more rice and flour — Elder Jin A’Jie did stock us with some, but I can eat a lot. Tomorrow I’d like roasted flatbread.”

Zhang Xiangu hurried to say, “What? There isn’t enough? We have plenty! I’ll go get some right away and make it!”

Zhù Ying smiled: “No rush — the jars and everything else — let’s go together today, mother and I…”

“That won’t do! Don’t you still have studying to do?”

Zhù Ying said, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go and find some wood and bamboo; Father can work on a chicken coop, no rush. Then we’ll go and buy a few more things together. Now that we can afford to eat a little better, let’s do it. We can get some eggs of our own, put them away. Let’s get some meat too. And some new fabric — we can have some new clothes cut. And then let’s get those southern goods sold — that’ll put some cash in hand. My stipend should just about cover day-to-day expenses, with a little left over to save. We’ll live steadily.”

Zhang Xiangu said, “All right!”

Zhù Da thought a moment and said, “When I have a spare moment, I should go and find Old Daoist Xu. I haven’t gone to see him in a long while.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Fine.”

Zhang Xiangu scolded: “Don’t you go making trouble! First go watch the stall, sell off what we brought from home — then talk! And no spirit-calling, since you’re asking!”

Zhù Da said, “He lives at a Daoist temple — I can sell things there too. It’s the same thing, isn’t it? And this isn’t spirit-calling, can it be done?”

Zhù Ying said, “Just consign it with the temple keeper for sale. Collect whatever you get — even if you get nothing, it’s fine. Think of it as earning some spiritual merit for the late Yu Miaomiao at that Daoist temple.”

At the mention of Yu Miaomiao, Zhang Xiangu’s brightness dimmed. She sighed: “She just couldn’t see past it. Even if things had come to where they are now, and she were here with us — we’re not heartless people, she wouldn’t have had a bad life.”

Zhù Da said, “Stop talking! Eat up, and then wash the bowls and go buy things!”

The family followed Zhù Ying’s plan, each taking on their own tasks. Zhù Ying went with Zhang Xiangu to buy quite a few things, finally hiring a cart home. Off the cart came several rough-clay jars, a pile of vegetables, a large crock of salt, and rice and flour and kindling. Zhù Da took one look at the tools and said, “Well now — axes, saws, knives, and chisels, the whole set!” His skills were rough, but serviceable, and he had grown up in the countryside where you had to do everything yourself. He started building the chicken coop.

Zhang Xiangu kept up a running stream: “She went and bought one hundred eggs! One hundred eggs! I hadn’t stopped her before she paid — she just paid! With my money!”

Neither Zhù Da nor Zhù Ying gave her a word in reply. Father and daughter exchanged a glance and went about their work.

Zhù Ying sold off the cart they had driven up from home. The goods they’d brought along she had mostly found buyers for today, with a few remaining items written on a placard for Zhù Da to spread a cloth on the ground in front of the temple — sell if someone buys, no pressure. Give the man something to do. The livestock stall was now empty, just right for putting in a chicken coop.

Zhang Xiangu, having finished scolding about the hundred eggs, went on to scold about the vegetables and meat Zhù Ying had bought, and even a fish: “There’s still half a fish in yesterday’s leftovers! Add some tofu and you’ve got a whole dish.” She went off, muttering and grumbling, to start pickling her salted vegetables. She was going to put in plenty of salt! That way they’d keep all the way until winter snowfall!

Zhù Ying thought: In a few days, once the vegetables are pickled, I’ll have Mother go and buy the chicks herself. It’ll give her something to do — can’t have her going back to spirit-calling in the capital. It doesn’t even work. And spirit-summoning is the kind of charge that could get you arrested for sorcery. Sorcery was a surefire way to ruin everything!

She took a wine jar down from the cart and handed it to Zhù Da: “There! Capital wine, fresh-brewed. Take it easy — don’t drink it all at once!”

Zhù Da said, “Who needs telling? Though I’ll say this — you’d better start building up your tolerance too! I and your grandfather both held our drink well — the dragon’s son can swim…”

Zhang Xiangu, halfway through her pickling, came charging back with her vegetable knife: “Go ahead and take yourself down with you, but leave her out of it! Old Three, go and find me two big stones to press down the jars — I’m going to take this old man apart!”

Zhù Ying spent one more day getting the rented house in order, and then closed herself in to study. Lamp oil and such had been seen to by Jin A’Jie; copybooks had been given by Zheng Xi; Zhang Xiangu was generous with her own daughter and was willing to light two wicks in the lamp at night to give her light for reading.

These days passed in the same way as the days studying in Jin Liang’s house before the examination. Zhù Da and Zhang Xiangu showed no particular consciousness that their child had become an official. Zhù Da still went out to brag, only to be scolded by Zhang Xiangu: “She hasn’t sat at the yamen yet — don’t go bringing trouble to her! There’ll be plenty of time for boasting once everything is settled!”

Two days into her reading, Chen Meng sent someone over with a whole package of things — from a book satchel and brush case all the way to a lunch box, a complete set. Chen Meng had also written a note, telling her these were all the things one needed when working inside the Imperial City. He explained that the communal meal there had become rather poor, and it was best to bring one’s own food. At the end he wrote that he was passing the message along on someone else’s behalf, and added a line expressing his own mixed feelings on the matter.

Zhù Ying smiled and put everything away. Following this as a guide, she prepared what she already had, and found she was still missing a set of bedding — for it turned out that officials also had to take turns staying overnight on duty. Even the Court of Judicial Review, being inside the Imperial City, required senior officials to be on call with junior clerks arranged for rotating night duty.

Those with money kept one set at home and one in the yamen. Those who were more constrained moved their bedding back and forth. Zhù Ying thought about it and decided to get an extra set.

A few days later, the formal letter of appointment arrived — she, Zhù Ying, a girl raised in disguise by a spirit-summoner’s family, was officially appointed as an Evaluating Censor at the Court of Judicial Review.

Evaluating Censor of the Court of Judicial Review, eighth grade lower rank, a deep teal-colored robe.

Zhù Ying would need to have it made herself.

Fortunately the capital had no shortage of shops for that sort of work. She only needed Jin A’Jie to show her the way, hand over the money, and in a few days it would be ready — Jin A’Jie even handled the bargaining. And because Zhù Ying had given Jin A’Jie that gold ingot, she felt she could never quite repay it, and gifted Zhù Ying an extra set as well — giving Zhù Ying a change of clothes on top.

While waiting for the clothes, Zhù Ying memorized the roster of personnel at the Court of Judicial Review that Zheng Xi had given her and the list of her cohort from the same examination. She also found time to study court rituals and protocols, and then began reading the Zuo Commentary.

Reading along, she started to laugh: “This is exactly what the eldest young master Chen did — impressive! No wonder everyone says you have to read books — turns out books really can govern people.”

Zhù Da and Zhang Xiangu, meanwhile, were both excited that their daughter had genuinely become an official! One was starching a robe; the other stood staring at the garment hung on the rack, insisting Zhù Ying try it on: “Let me see.”

Eighth grade lower rank — it sounded like an insignificant little post, barely worth mentioning, yet it was what countless people dreamed of. It was an official rank — even someone like Yu Ping or the schoolteacher Huang, upon meeting her, would have to show proper deference. And it wasn’t the lowest grade of the ninth rank lower — it was the eighth grade lower! For someone of Zhù Ying’s background, this was an extraordinarily high starting point.

Zhù Ying didn’t dash their spirits. She herself was more than satisfied. If she had started as a minor clerk and worked her way up, she might have begun at ninth grade lower, which was what a jail warden might hold. And from ninth grade lower to eighth grade lower, there were still several steps in between.

Zhù Da counted on his fingers and said, “You’re still five grades below Jin Liang, right?”

Zhù Ying said, “Multiply it by two — ten grades, because each rank is divided into upper and lower.”

Zhù Da said, “No matter! It’s an official post all the same!”

…

But being an official was not so simple!

On the day she was formally to report for duty, Zhù Ying dressed herself in her official robe, rose early, and following the instructions she had been given, arrived outside the Imperial City well ahead of time.

As she had been told, the northern part of the capital was the well-guarded Imperial City. The front section housed the central government offices; behind it was the Palace City.

Zhù Ying had to present herself at the outer gate of the Imperial City on time, have her waist tablet verified, and then proceed to the Court of Judicial Review to report for duty. At this hour Zheng Xi was still in the imperial presence at morning court. However, Zheng Xi had servants waiting outside the Imperial City — specifically Gan Ze and Lu Chao. The two circled her twice, and Lu Chao said, “You look a little official now! It’s just that you’re still young — you look like you’re playing.”

Gan Ze said, “Don’t talk like that. Sanlang is a court official now. If you want to tease, do it back at the household. Don’t say it out here.”

These two were old acquaintances of Zhù Ying’s, and also trusted attendants of Zheng Xi. Officials and clerks of the Court of Judicial Review going into the Imperial City saw the three of them chatting warmly and exchanged meaningful glances — so this is the one.

After a few words, they sent Zhù Ying on her way with a quiet tip: “If they give you trouble, tell the seventh young lord! He’ll deal with those old hands for you!”

Zhù Ying thought: your seventh young lord is counting on me to charge ahead. She smiled and said, “Understood. I’m going in.”

As she went by the documents Zheng Xi had given her on the Court of Judicial Review, this office was nothing like a county yamen with its tax-collection and punishment duties. Its entire remit was criminal law — which sounded less complicated than a county yamen’s duties on the surface, since there wasn’t even tax collection to deal with. In reality its scope of authority ran to a very long list, summarized in two sentences: “Serious cases involving common people, and any case involving people of consequence.”

It reviewed cases and also tried them directly.

All cases from the various departments involving sentences of banishment or above, ninth-rank officials and above facing dismissal, demotion, or substitution of rank, and commoners sentenced to exile or death — all these it examined in detail.

Those high officials who had once seemed so untouchable — would they now fall into her hands?

Zhù Ying felt a small surge of excitement as she looked around.

She went in with that small burst of excitement, tablet in hand, following the directions she had been given to the Court of Judicial Review — and walked straight into a bucket of cold water.

Among the officials at the Court of Judicial Review, she was nearly at the very bottom. Below her were only two Recording Secretaries and four Prison Wardens. Along with the eleven others at the same grade, that made twelve small fish — herself included. In fact, one of her cohort from the same Ming Fa examination had even been appointed as a Recording Secretary — a ninth-grade upper rank, lower than her.

The newly arrived Recording Secretary was named Bao, and was roughly twice Zhù Ying’s age. When they met, he said, “Young colleague — do you have any idea what duties have been assigned to us?”

Zhù Ying said she didn’t either: “I’ll just have to wait for my superior’s instructions.”

Her intention was to wait for Zheng Xi, the Presiding Judge, to come and assign her work — to do whatever Zheng Xi said. However, Zheng Xi was still in the imperial presence, so she could only wait. When Zheng Xi finally appeared, he said nothing more than: “You’re both new arrivals? What are your names? What were your examination grades?”

Zhù Ying had placed first in the upper tier, answering all ten questions correctly from memory. Bao the Recording Secretary had also placed in the upper tier, though slightly below Zhù Ying — his wording had some discrepancies, but it was still a creditable result.

Zheng Xi showed no special favoritism toward Zhù Ying. He turned to ask the person seated just below him, “Does Second Lord have any instructions?”

Zhù Ying took note of this person’s seat — second only to Zheng Xi — and judged him to be one of the Deputy Judges, Leng Yun, who appeared to be about the same age as Zheng Xi. Leng Yun said flatly, “You haven’t given any instructions yourself — what would I have to instruct? Let them try their hand at things and see.”

Zheng Xi also asked the other Deputy Judge, Pei Qing: “Does Zicheng have any instructions?”

Pei Qing appeared to be thirty-seven or thirty-eight, with a neat dark beard, and had a look about him that suggested he would not be easily trifled with. Zhù Ying glanced at the two Deputy Judges and could already tell that neither of them was in a particularly good mood. Leng Yun looked somewhat bored; Pei Qing seemed mildly displeased with himself. That certainly wasn’t directed at her — it had to be something Zheng Xi had done.

Sure enough! Pei Qing asked Zhù Ying: “You placed first in the upper tier?”

“Yes.”

Pei Qing looked her up and down, then abruptly asked, “Those who abduct and sell others into slavery — what is the penalty?”

Zhù Ying said, “Death by strangulation. Sold into bound-service: exile three thousand li. Sold as a concubine, wife, or child: penal servitude for three years. If the act results in killing or injuring the victim, the statutes on violent robbery apply.”

Pei Qing went on to test a few more clauses — such as what “astronomical instruments and artifacts” referred to.

Zhù Ying thought: Did Zheng Xi offend him? Why is he selecting from the middle sections for this?

Anyone who had memorized texts knew that the beginning and the end stayed in memory best — the middle was easiest to forget. Yet Pei Qing was deliberately choosing from those sections. It was difficult to call this anything other than deliberate hostility. Zhù Ying thought it through: she hadn’t done anything to wrong Pei Qing. It couldn’t be because of anything she’d done — she was clearly here to bear the weight of what Zheng Xi had stirred up.

She didn’t look to Zheng Xi. Looking at Zheng Xi now would be useless — he was standing to one side with his arms crossed, watching. He was also using Pei Qing to test her.

But every clause Pei Qing selected, Zhù Ying answered. Pei Qing felt his displeasure, though he had to acknowledge inwardly that his earlier judgment might have been wrong. He asked the thing that had caused his misapprehension in the first place: “Why is your calligraphy so atrocious?”

Most of Pei Qing’s displeasure with Zhù Ying stemmed directly from the handwriting. He had seen Zhù Ying’s Ming Fa examination paper.

Zhù Ying’s Ming Fa result was first in the upper tier, but that first place had been contested — her handwriting was poor.

He had read her examination paper. The answers were all correct, but the handwriting had made him suspicious. How could someone with brushwork this poor possibly have good scholarship? And Zheng Xi had asked for her by name!

People who properly studied and attended school typically took up the brush when they began memorizing texts, so that by the time the texts were mastered, the brushwork had developed alongside them. Many had already achieved something of a mature calligraphic style even before sitting for office. As for Zhù Ying — the calligraphy couldn’t be called meaningless scrawl exactly, but it had the look of a learner who had started only fairly recently: the structure was sound, but the strokes had an unmistakable rawness to them that couldn’t be disguised.

How long had she been at her studies?

And she had answered every question on the paper correctly?!

Pei Qing was deeply skeptical. Zheng Xi’s attitude only deepened that suspicion — he had every reason to believe that the examination had been leaked, and that Zhù Ying, a completely inexperienced newcomer, had simply memorized the answers and filled them in, with no real understanding of law at all. On top of that — fourteen years old? Who was he trying to fool?

Fourteen years old, first place, upper tier — that would make her a child prodigy. And a child prodigy wouldn’t be wasted on the Ming Fa examination — they’d be groomed for the Ming Jing or Jinshi track.

These imperial relatives and wastrel nobles were truly lawless.

But he had no proof, and Zheng Xi had the attitude of someone who found nothing wrong with the child at all, which had further lowered Pei Qing’s already-diminished opinion of him.

No — Pei Qing had come to the Court of Judicial Review to clean up the mess and restore proper standards. He was not like Zheng Xi, who could accomplish eight-tenths of any task and be content to quietly accumulate seniority. Pei Qing held himself to a higher standard.

The clauses Pei Qing had tested were all answered, and he was forced to acknowledge that his earlier judgment may have been in error. He asked the thing that had led him to misjudge — the calligraphy.

Zhù Ying had never felt any particular dissatisfaction with her own handwriting, but Zheng Xi had told her to practice, Wang Yunhe had told her to practice, and now here was Pei Qing saying the same thing — all she could answer was: “I haven’t practiced enough.”

Pei Qing was annoyed again. This little troublemaker really knew how to try one’s patience! He asked why the calligraphy was poor, and she said she hadn’t practiced enough — wasn’t that stating the obvious? If she’d practiced enough, would it still be poor?

Pei Qing said: “Practice harder!”

Zhù Ying said, “Yes.”

A breath caught in Pei Qing’s throat and he broke into a cough. Leng Yun laughed: “At least she’s obedient, ha! Someone come — take them around, let them learn which doors are which!”

A man in a green robe stepped forward and said, “Allow me to show them around.”

Leng Yun said, “Go, go — once they’ve learned the layout, take them to their colleagues, see if there’s anything that needs doing.”

The man in green bowed and led the two away.

Leng Yun suddenly broke into loud laughter and said to Zheng Xi, “Seventh young lord — good eye! Zicheng, we’ve got another capable hand here — still young, knows the law tolerably well. We’re short of people right now, and this is just right. Ha ha ha ha!”

Pei Qing said coldly, “There are still case files unread and prisoners unquestioned in the jail — if you have time to laugh, you might do better to read more case files.”

Leng Yun laughed again: “All right, all right — you’re thorough, and I’ll go. Ha!” He turned and gave Zheng Xi a laughing bow as well, and was off. He had barely cleared the threshold before another burst of laughter broke out, and he stood gripping the pillar, watching the sight of one green and two teal robes making their way through the Court of Judicial Review. He shook his head, let out a low sound of amusement, and thought: This is going to be interesting.

…—

The man who showed Zhù Ying and the other new arrival around the Court of Judicial Review was a Senior Court Official — sixth grade upper — roughly ten grades above the two of them, and already showing a bit of gray at his temples. Zhù Ying knew that the Court of Judicial Review had six Senior Court Officials in total. This Zhang Official told them that the Court was not fully staffed: “Work hard, and there will be opportunities for everyone!”

Zhù Ying thought: don’t try to deceive me. This is only because last year’s affair about the switched condemned prisoner swept away a whole cohort, and even now the vacancies haven’t been filled. Opportunities like this don’t come every day — and people will surely have their eyes on those open positions, waiting to fill them. She herself, after all, had been put there by Zheng Xi for exactly that purpose.

She and Bao the Recording Secretary both did their best to look attentive and enthusiastic as they listened.

Following Official Zhang, they walked through the women’s section of the Court of Judicial Review’s jail, heard a long list of prohibited behaviors — including warnings against wandering anywhere near the Palace City to the north. Both Zhù Ying and Bao the Recording Secretary agreed to everything. Official Zhang nodded with satisfaction: “Good. That will do — go about your duties!”

Zhù Ying was sent to the group of Evaluating Censors.

The Court of Judicial Review’s Evaluating Censors, at full staffing, should have numbered twelve. With her included, there were only ten — and not all of them were even present at the Court today; reportedly two had been sent out on assignment, leaving only eight, herself included.

Before joining the Court, Zhù Ying had made up her mind: the Court is shorthanded right now, and Lord Zheng needs results — I must work hard.

Having seen Pei Qing and Leng Yun, she already knew that within the Court of Judicial Review, factions and power centers existed as well. These two Deputy Judges didn’t look like they were particularly amenable to Zheng Xi’s direction.

Yet when she arrived at the Evaluating Censors’ room, the senior censor came forward and said, “A young person of great promise!” He had all those present welcome her, and everyone offered a round of praise for her examination results. They asked where she was from — no one shared her home region. They asked where she was living, and found that her address wasn’t particularly close to any of theirs. In the end they could only find common ground in a discussion of whether she was renting or had bought her home.

A white-bearded Evaluating Censor Wang said, “At that price, in that location, renting — you’ve got yourself a real bargain!” He was a new transfer who had come in the previous year; though not young, he lacked the seniority of the senior censor.

And then everyone began talking about the food in the capital for quite a while.

Zhù Ying sat listening in mild bewilderment: what are all these old heads doing? Don’t they have work?

Fortunately, her years in the spirit-summoning trade had given her real patience for listening to other people talk. She sat through Evaluating Censor Yu finishing a lengthy account of how to prepare raw carp and fresh shrimp, then listened to Evaluating Censor Liu say, “What are we having for the communal meal today?” The seven others went back and forth trading menu items.

One said: “What else would it be? The Court of Judicial Review — better than nothing but worse than the best. One meat, one vegetable, one soup. Better than a lean office with nothing but greens and tofu, not as good as those fat postings with big fish and fine meat.”

Another said, “Even one meat and one vegetable has its variations!”

For capital officials, life was often financially tight, and the communal meal mattered quite a lot. They were apparently educating Zhù Ying about the practical realities of life in this yamen — and there wasn’t a single word about how this was an office that had been “purged and was preparing to achieve new results.”

Zhù Ying ran through the personnel list Zheng Xi had given her and matched these men to their names and files. According to the records, four of the Evaluating Censors here were holdovers from before the purge — they had not been found culpable in the last round of investigations, though they’d been kept on. The others had been transferred in from elsewhere. It seemed the old guard’s style was rubbing off on the newcomers.

Zhù Ying listened to them finish talking about a meal, and by then the communal meal hour had arrived. On the first day she brought nothing of her own — she was used to going hungry here and there — and when the food came up and everyone gathered, she took one look and laughed softly: “This looks quite good, doesn’t it?”

By her standards — one meat, one vegetable, soup, and unlimited rice — it was fine.

She ate with obvious pleasure, leaving a few of her picky colleagues wondering if they had been served the same food.

After the meal, when the rest period came, she asked her colleagues, “What am I supposed to be doing?”

Evaluating Censor Wang said, “Ask Old Left.”

The senior censor said, “No hurry. You’re new. Even with an upper-tier first place result, working is different from testing. No duties yet — read the old case files first, learn how your predecessors handled cases. Old Wang, take them over to see our files.”

The case archives at the Court of Judicial Review were quite different from those at the Ministry of Revenue. The Ministry of Revenue held household registers for all under heaven, renewed entirely every twenty years, with the old records discarded. Here in the Court of Judicial Review, everything was major and capital cases, with no upper limit on the retention period — cases going all the way back to the founding of the dynasty were kept here, decades of serious cases all in one place.

Evaluating Censor Wang took Zhù Ying to the archive room and said, “There you go! Everything’s right here! Digest all of this, and you’ll know exactly how to decide a case — and by the time we put you to real work, you’ll be able to handle anything.”

Zhù Ying thought: Are you people seriously asking for a beating? Leaving aside everything else — this has to span something like eighty years. Every year, one major case per prefecture — that’s dozens a year. Over eighty years? That’s likely upwards of ten thousand case files. You want me to read all of them? I could fit all your heads in a chamber pot, and you’d still believe I could.

She maintained an expression of perfectly attentive humility on her face and said, “Understood. I’ll start right away.”

Evaluating Censor Wang introduced her to Old Fang, the clerk in charge of the archive: “Come to him whenever you need to look at something — sign it out, sign it back in when you return it.”

Zhù Ying noted everything, and as directed, selected an initial batch of files to bring back to her desk.

Her desk was in a reasonable spot — two of the twelve positions were currently empty, so she had her pick and chose one with decent ventilation and light. The Court provided paper and brushes, along with lamp oil and candles. She settled in and began reading through the cases one by one.

During the day, her colleagues came and went, saying “I’m going to look at such-and-such a case” or “I need to go and question the prisoner,” and each time she started to offer a hand. They always said: “No rush. You’re new — there’s nothing you need to do yet. Keep reading the archives.”

Zhù Ying could only keep reading.

By evening the senior censor stretched with a yawn and said, “Who’s on duty tonight?”

Evaluating Censor Wang said, “Not our turn!”

The senior censor said, “Good! Little Zhù — you just started, you won’t be in the first rotation. You take your turn next month!”

And with a collective cheer, they all scattered home for dinner, leaving Zhù Ying staring at their departing backs: what on earth was going on here? Did these people actually do any work?

…

On the first day back from the yamen, Zhù Da was standing at the gate and Zhang Xiangu was waiting at the mouth of the lane, both watching eagerly for Zhù Ying to come home. Well before she reached the gate, Zhang Xiangu called out, “How was it? How was it? What did you do today?”

Zhù Ying looked at them both, thought about everything that had happened that day, and laughed in spite of herself. “Everyone was perfectly fine. Let’s go home.”

Dinner that evening was all fresh dishes. Zhang Xiangu kept piling food into her bowl while asking, “How was it? How was it?”

Zhù Ying said, “I just arrived — didn’t do anything yet. The food there was decent.”

Zhang Xiangu said, “Then it’s fine!”

Neither of the two spirit-summoners had any idea what a yamen inside the Imperial City looked like, but each did their earnest best to offer advice. Then Zhù Da suddenly thought of something: “When you’re new somewhere, don’t they usually hold a welcoming drink?”

Zhang Xiangu was alarmed: “Don’t talk nonsense!”

Zhù Ying shook her head: “No, nothing like that.”

Both parents relaxed.

Zhù Ying ate dinner, then lit the lamp and went back to reading and practicing calligraphy, not stopping until the second watch.

She was up early the next morning to attend the morning muster at the Court of Judicial Review. Another day of reading case files, but she began to find a certain pleasure in them. These cases, it had to be said, were stranger and more entertaining than anything the storytellers on the street corners could have invented. Reading the judgments made alongside the legal codes she had memorized, new insights began to form — including a sense of why the law itself was fixed and rarely changed, while ordinances were constantly being added to supplement it: the law could not keep pace with the ingenuity of human beings.

Again that day, colleagues came and went on errands while she sat at her desk. Every time she offered her hand, the senior censor and the others said: “No rush.”

So Zhù Ying kept reading case files.

The senior censor watched her bent over her work, got up, and went to speak with Old Fang the archivist. “What’s she been reading — the new little Zhù?”

Old Fang said, “Old files. Various ones.”

“Which years? What sorts of cases?”

“All sorts — from the founding of the dynasty up to the present year. She just draws. I saw her pick up three dice, roll once and go to the corresponding shelf, roll again and go to the corresponding row, roll again and pull the corresponding volume…”

The senior censor snorted: “Just a child after all.” He said to Old Fang, “Let me see the sign-out log. What has she been pulling?”

Old Fang, an old hand himself, handed over the log and asked, “This new one — she has someone backing her? The other new arrival doesn’t have her rank.”

“Hmm — Pei the Junior Presiding Judge is already quarreling with our Lord Zheng over this.”

Old Fang smiled: “Two people both wanting to accomplish something, and they’re not on the same side. Well, well — those at the top fight for glory, and they just drive us all like mill horses.” He then asked: “You’re not giving the new one a welcoming drink?”

“What’s there to welcome? Can’t tell if she’s any good yet! Let her sit there for now. Everyone’s money is real money, isn’t it? And we want to talk about integrity. We’re not wealthy.”

The two — one official, one clerk — were old acquaintances at the Court, and could speak frankly. They chatted a while longer, and the senior censor finished reviewing the sign-out log, found nothing of concern, and set it aside.

Zhù Ying safely made her way home again, ate the light supper Zhang Xiangu had kept warm for her, finished it, and went to practice her calligraphy by lamplight — a thoroughly leisurely life.

The next morning, Zhang Xiangu was up early again and had breakfast ready. As Zhù Ying was about to leave, Zhang Xiangu said, “Wait — didn’t you say you wanted roasted flatbread the other day? I made some — meat-filled. You take two with you. Running all that way first thing in the morning and getting there — won’t you be hungry? I wrapped them in blue-flower cloth, put them in a small bamboo basket.”

She handed it over while telling Zhù Ying, “Eat them once you get to the yamen. If there’s a brazier there, have them heat it up. If not — make sure to have them with some hot tea or hot water at least.”

Zhù Ying picked up the basket and looked at it: a small basket, just the right size for carrying snacks. “Father’s craft has come a long way.”

Zhù Da said gruffly, “Of course it has. Did you ever doubt me?”

It hadn’t been that impressive before — but Zhù Ying didn’t say so. “Make a bigger one too, in case it comes in handy.”

Zhù Da said loudly, “You didn’t need to say that! I’m already working on a few big storage baskets!”

Zhù Ying went off with her meat-filled flatbread.

…

All the way to the Imperial City gate, the guard saw she was carrying food and said, “Is there anything concealed inside?”

Zhù Ying said, “Just my own food. If it’s easier, I’ll just eat it here — do you have water? Give me a sip.”

The guard rolled his eyes and waved her through.

Zhù Ying brought her two flatbreads into the Court of Judicial Review. Over on the other side, court was still in session. She sat down at her place, and a clerk bustled over to serve her hot tea at once. Zhù Ying said, “Thank you.” She pulled out her flatbread and began to eat.

Just two — and once they were gone she realized she’d been eating alone… well, nothing to be done about that.

The senior censor asked, “Lived far away, didn’t have time for breakfast at home? Bought them on the way?”

Zhù Ying said, “I ate at home. My mother was worried I’d get hungry and told me to bring something to tide me over.”

The senior censor said, “A mother’s heart goes with her children wherever they are! Though you really don’t need your elder at home rising this early every day! Forgive me for saying so — when you come out from your neighborhood, don’t rush straight for Vermilion Bird Avenue. Walk three streets over, and just across from Wannian County you’ll find a ward with a wonderful early morning stall — a few coins will get you excellent flatbread with sesame!”

He had smelled it — the flatbread Zhù Ying was eating, meat-filled, but the smell said the technique was not quite up to standard.

The mention of food brought Evaluating Censor Wang over as well: “And there’s another — across the ward from that one — they sell noodle soup in the morning, also excellent!”

All eight censors gathered around. Seven men, seven mouths, all recommending their favorite breakfast foods. One mentioned mutton soup; another mentioned wonton; another, buns; then someone mentioned congee, deep-fried cake, and dumplings…

Zhù Ying finished her two flatbreads amid a recitation of dishes and spread her hands. “Good — I’ve got it all noted down.” She could buy some for her parents to try, but from experience, Zhang Xiangu would probably refuse to spend money on bought breakfast and insist on making her own.

The senior censor was satisfied: “That’s more like it! And just so you know — don’t go wandering up to random small stalls. They don’t care about the quality of their ingredients!”

The censors all nodded in agreement.

Evaluating Censor Wang said, “They’ve come down from morning court.”

Everyone scattered to their seats at once. Zhù Ying wiped her mouth, rinsed it, and went to find today’s “story collection.” Today was the same as every other day!

She was just bringing back an armful of case files when she found there was an extra person in the room. No one introduced them; she just stood to one side and listened. It was someone with excellent information channels — also in a job of the eighth grade by the look of the clothes, with a line of black mustache, sleeves rolled up, already in the middle of saying: “Tragic! Ate a beef cake standing on the side of the street and got reported by a Censor! The whole morning court was buzzing about it!”

Zhù Ying’s eyes went wide. A beef cake on the side of the road — reported to the Censors?! She’d memorized so many legal codes and there was not a single clause about that!

The man with the black mustache finished his story, turned back, and saw her: “Who’s this?”

The senior censor gave a brief introduction. The man with the black mustache said, “Oh! Young and promising, ha! Take it easy — once you’ve been here a while you’ll find it’s all the same!”

The senior censor said, “He’s Yang Liu from the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. An Adjunct Ceremonial.”

Zhù Ying and Yang Liu exchanged introductions, and she asked, “Are the Censors always this strict?” She didn’t believe it — if they were really that strict, how had Zhou You been allowed to run riot?

Both Yang Liu and the senior censor laughed and said, “Strict? Yes and no — it depends on who, and on the moment!”

As with every office, within the Censorate there were the capable and the mediocre, the ambitious and the complacent. The official who ate the beef cake had the misfortune of running into a stricter Censor. But Evaluating Censor Wang had a different theory: “I suspect it had to do with what happened the day before yesterday when he argued back to…”

Yang Liu coughed: “I should get back!” And he was gone like a wisp of smoke.

Zhù Ying asked the senior censor, “If I’m seen carrying my bedding roll home — could someone report me for that?”

The senior censor said, “What? You’ve been doing that? Has anyone seen you?”

Evaluating Censor Wang said, “Never mind — nothing was reported, so nothing happened. For the future, bring your bedding to the duty room and we’ll find you a cabinet. Keep it there, roll it out when you need it.”

The censors arranged everything for her one by one. Much of this was new information for Zhù Ying, and she thought: Noted. I’ll make myself comfortable.

The senior censor told her, “Normally it doesn’t matter much — as long as no one sees you, you’re fine! Just be careful at certain moments — for instance, when there’s a change of administration at the Bureau of Censors, brace yourself. And right now, both our Court and the Ministry of Justice are under investigation — be careful. It’s a catch-all offense they use for things like this: ‘conduct unbecoming of an official.’ You won’t find it in any of those legal codes you’ve memorized.”

They told her many things, and the senior censor concluded: “Why do it yourself? Have your manservant carry it.”

Zhù Ying said, “I don’t have one.”

Everyone was astonished: “Haven’t gotten to it yet? We should find you one — it won’t cost much…”

Zhù Ying spread her hands: “I have no money.”

The leftover money at home was barely enough for the next year’s rent, this year’s social obligations, the next month’s grain, plus whatever she wanted to save as a buffer and for eventually buying property. In her hands, the one gold ingot from the Prime Minister was the main item; otherwise, only small change remained.

Sitting in prison once was a punishment not only to the person but to the purse.

The senior colleagues pressed: “How can that be? The household expenses alone — between us, we support entire families and still manage a manservant and a cook-maid. How can you have nothing left?”

Eventually they realized — Zhù Ying hadn’t collected her stipend yet!

The senior censor said, “Child, you’ve been sitting here all this time without saying a word. Go and collect it! I’ll tell you — you need to go to the Grand Granary office. Your name is already on the rolls. The way we collect ours is on the upper ten-day period of the month — some offices collect mid-month, some at the lower ten-day. Don’t go by whatever the old founding-era rules say — those are decades out of date and have been adjusted since. They’ve gone up somewhat. For small officials like us — ministers and Lord Zheng collect on a different basis from us, and that’s none of our concern. All you need to know is that you have a monthly coin stipend, a yearly grain stipend, festival bonuses, and cloth folded in for clothing!”

According to the senior censor, Zhù Ying’s stipend — including miscellaneous supplements — came to a real monthly take-home of five guan. In terms of coin, this was similar to what a Metropolitan Prefecture jailer might receive. The real difference lay in what came afterward: she also received eighty shi of grain per year — the two together being the main items. In addition, two bolts of cloth per year for making new clothes. At seasonal changes — in summer, for example — there would be a heat supplement, sometimes in goods and sometimes converted to coin. On top of all this, eating the communal meal at the Court of Judicial Review daily was not a minor benefit.

Eighty shi of grain, Zhù Ying thought. All at once? My family doesn’t have a grain silo!

Wait —

She thought back: Jin Liang’s household didn’t seem to have such a large grain silo either! Better ask A’Jie.

She thanked the senior censor for the reminder. Evaluating Censor Wang added one more thing: “Once you’ve collected your stipend, get a manservant. And don’t wander around on the street on your own. Get caught and reported, and our superiors will be displeased, and then we’re all uncomfortable. The way I look at it…”

And so, after all this, Zhù Ying had to return the case files she had just borrowed, and go and find Zheng Xi to request leave.

…

Zheng Xi took one look at her and burst out laughing: “What’s this? Coming to me to request leave?”

This child, who always put on such an air of having everything under control, so meticulous in everything she did — and then first she forgot to collect her stipend, and now she was requesting leave directly from the chief official!

“Ha ha ha ha — where have you ever seen anyone request leave directly from their chief official? What grade are you? What grade am I? You’ve been set up, haven’t you? Ha ha ha ha! Going over your superiors’ heads is the biggest taboo in officialdom — do you understand that now? Ha ha ha ha! And by the way — ha ha ha ha!”

Zhù Ying genuinely couldn’t understand how a man of Zheng Xi’s stature could laugh this uncontrollably over something so small. She asked suspiciously, “You’re not Zheng Xi’s twin brother, are you? You don’t act like him at all. So undignified!”

“Pfft — ha ha ha ha!” Leng Yun, who had come over to see what all the noise was about, didn’t quite expect to walk in on this and also burst out laughing!

Zheng Xi caught sight of him and immediately transformed back from “Zheng Xi’s undignified twin brother” into “Zheng Xi himself,” saying: “Granted. Go on — and since you also had a night-duty rotation, that counts too. Two days’ leave. The household is the priority. Lu Chao is out there — have him help you.”

Leng Yun looked at Zhù Ying with mild surprise, and thought: Could this be Zheng Xi’s particular favorite? A young intimate companion?

Zhù Ying’s ear twitched. She moved away from Leng Yun and left, thinking: That Deputy Judge Leng is not right — I need to be careful around him.

She went back to tell the senior censor, “Leave approved — today and tomorrow. I’m going to collect my stipend and grain.”

“Off with you, off with you.” Everyone agreed.

Zhù Ying left the Imperial City. Outside she found Lu Chao and relayed Zheng Xi’s instruction. Lu Chao said, “You still haven’t collected it? Ah well, right enough — they hadn’t officially appointed you, so they wouldn’t know the exact amount owed you! Easy to sort out — come on, I’ll hire a cart and we’ll go collect it.”

Zhù Ying said, “Don’t rush — come with me first to Elder Brother Jin’s place. I need to ask A’Jie something.”

Walking along together, Lu Chao said, “What do you need to ask Jin A’Jie? Jin Liang’s not home — a single young man heading to someone’s house too often when the husband’s away doesn’t look good!”

Zhù Ying said, “Lu Er — you run a gambling table, you cheat, your technique isn’t even that good, you use loaded dice, but you’re still basically dependable.”

Lu Chao flailed his arms: “Quiet, quiet, quiet — what cheating? Don’t say that word!”

The two were old friends by now and bantered easily all the way to Jin’s wife’s door.

Jin’s wife looked up in surprise: “What are you two doing here — why aren’t you at your post?”

Zhù Ying said, “I just found out I never collected my stipend. Lord Zheng sent Lu Er to help, but I thought I should ask A’Jie a few things first before going ahead!”

“Go on, then.”

“The coin I can take home or have changed into smaller amounts — that’s no trouble. But the grain — there seems to be a lot of it! A family of three, even eating well, I don’t think we’d get through all of it in a year, and there’s nowhere to put it.”

Jin’s wife and Lu Chao both laughed. “No one hauls it all home in one go! Even the granaries don’t fill up like that all at once!”

Jin’s wife said, “The Grand Granary office — the clerks there know how to treat people based on who you are. Go without any backing, and they’ll give you three-or-five-year-old stale grain. That stuff fills your stomach but has no flavor. Take it home, store it another year — and at year-end you’d be eating six-year-old stale grain. Leave it too long and it goes moldy.”

Zhù Ying said, “So no one keeps the grain at home?”

Jin’s wife settled into a full explanation: “This is what everyone who serves as an official in the capital knows. I thought you already knew all this too — my fault for not saying. You don’t have any farmland or property to draw rent from yet, so of course there’s no private grain supply. People like our household — we have a few dozen mu of land in the countryside. In autumn, we get new rice. When there isn’t enough, we take the issued grain and exchange it at a grain merchant’s. Oh — there’s a deduction for that. Eighty shi of stale grain might get you sixty to seventy shi at a fair rate. Once the home supply is eaten up, you go back to the merchant for new rice. Some people skip the exchange altogether and sell the grain straight away for cash — but that means accepting a lower price. And rice comes in grades: premium and standard, priced differently. Some people even receive new grain but dislike the grade, so they sell it and buy their preferred variety elsewhere. That standard-grade rice gets sold by the merchants to small food stalls — they make rice cakes with it, or boil it soft and mushy for congee to sell off…”

Jin’s wife finished explaining all of this and said, “Understand now?”

“Yes.”

“Going forward, anything you don’t understand about life in the capital, just come and ask me. I’m at home with nothing to do but argue with A’Biao anyway.”

Lu Chao bent his head and laughed. Jin’s wife gave him a swat: “And you — stop leading A’Biao into mischief!”

Once Zhù Ying knew how it worked, she asked Jin’s wife to recommend a reliable grain merchant. Jin’s wife said, “I might as well come along myself.”

Zhù Ying said, “Then let’s bring my parents too. They’ve been going stir-crazy at home with no one to talk to.”

Jin’s wife said, “Right — you should really hand all this kind of business over to your mother going forward. Once you’re married, your mother-in-law can take over managing the household. No reason for you to be doing this.”

So Lu Chao went to hire a cart, while Jin’s wife and Zhù Ying went first to pick up Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da. Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da had been muttering to themselves these past two days: “The household money is almost gone.” When they heard about collecting coin and grain, both were delighted. Zhang Xiangu smoothed her hair in the mirror. Zhù Da went to wash his hands.

On the way, Jin’s wife passed on more practical knowledge about running a small official’s household in the capital. Zhang Xiangu took it all in, and thought privately: No need for a manservant — Old Three can’t have a man living next to her. And no need for a maidservant either. That’s two fewer mouths to feed!

Jin’s wife took them to the grain merchant she knew and introduced them: “These are like family to me. Get to know them — get to know this Da Niang. This is the Zhù family.” She then had the merchant send a manager and some workers with a large cart to accompany them to collect the stipend.

Zhù Ying first collected this month’s coin. It was already the lower third of the month; she explained she was newly appointed, and things went smoothly enough — she received five guan, with an added reminder: “Your collection date is the upper ten days. Remember that. We’ll make an exception this once.”

Zhù Ying smiled: “Understood.” She put the coin in the cart. Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da — both having seen a bit of the world by now — found that five guan didn’t stop them in their tracks. One climbed down to learn things from Jin’s wife; the other stayed by the cart and refused to move.

The grain was loaded and managed by the merchant’s workers. The manager chatted with Zhù Ying, making conversation: “You’re so young and already an official. Jin the Military Supervisor serves in a posting outside — if I may ask, where is your posting, and what is your position?”

Zhù Ying said, “Oh, I’m hardly worth calling an official. Just an Evaluating Censor at the Court of Judicial Review.”

The manager offered more compliments: “At your age, already an official — a limitless future ahead of you!”

Zhù Ying said, “Thank you for the good words.”

Zhù Ying had not yet served a full year, so the grain was prorated to fifty shi — not much. The manager asked whether she wanted to have it recorded as new rice by account to be drawn on as needed, or converted to coin. Zhù Ying thought a moment and said, “Record it by account. My family will come and draw it as needed.”

“Certainly!”

The manager wrote up the voucher on the spot and produced a pair of matching counterpart tablets: “Keep one — bring both halves together to draw your grain.”

The ticket read: new rice, forty shi. Eight-tenths exchange rate.

Business concluded. Zhang Xiangu inwardly ached: ten shi of rice — ten shi! And the old grain was changed out anyway — ten shi of rice, enough to last several months!

She was desperate to scratch her daughter on the back — but couldn’t make a scene in front of “outsiders” and undermine the standing of a child who had just become an official. She could only endure it, keep smiling, and say, “You’ve worked hard, all of you!” Zhù Ying added something about inviting them to dinner, but Lu Chao could see that Zhang Xiangu’s heart was hurting, and that Zhù Da also looked like he had things he wanted to say. He quickly said, “I’ll see you home — I need to go and pick up the seventh young lord.” Jin’s wife also declined, claiming she had other things to do that evening.

The three of them separated. Zhù Ying got home and received her first scolding since becoming an official — both parents complained about how much had been lost. Every time Zhang Xiangu thought about those ten shi of grain, her chest hurt.

Zhù Da said, “I can dig too, I can do carpentry and bricklaying. Build our own storage, and think how much grain we’d save.”

Zhù Ying said, “When have we ever had more than one shi of grain at a time? We don’t know how to store it properly, and grain can go moldy. Officials get fined and prosecuted every day for grain that wasn’t stored right. It’s much safer to leave it with them. And storing grain doesn’t come free — it needs space, labor, and protection from thieves and mice. Right now we only eat what we need. A little deduction is a little deduction. Next month there’s more coin; next year there’s more grain.”

Zhang Xiangu inhaled sharply: “Another twenty guan off for rent! And then all the social calls… do all officials in the capital live on thin air?!”

Zhù Ying said, “Our family of three won’t go through eighty shi of rice in a year. Next year I won’t exchange it all for grain — some I’ll convert to coin. And there will be other rewards here and there — I’ll save all of that, and we’ll put some aside.”

Zhang Xiangu said, “All right, all right. Go sleep. Oh — let me heat up some water. My, even an official’s life isn’t easy! First thing tomorrow, I’m going out to buy some chicks. Leftover food scraps can raise them up, and every day an egg — no more buying eggs…”

…—

Zheng Xi had given Zhù Ying two days of leave, but on the second day she did not stay home — she went back to the Court of Judicial Review, cleared her leave, returned to her desk, and considered what files she would want to look at next.

The senior censor rubbed his forehead: “Didn’t you request two days of leave? Why are you here already today? Stay home a day, get your affairs in order — what’s wrong with that?”

Zhù Ying said, “I couldn’t sit still. It’s quieter here.”

The senior censor began a very un-quiet string of questions: “Did you sort everything out? Did you get a manservant? What about your bedding? Why haven’t you brought it? What about your grain stipend — did you take care of it?”

Evaluating Censor Wang also came over and said, as if suddenly remembering: “Your grain — did you handle it properly? I forgot to tell you — the quality they issue isn’t great.”

Zhù Ying said, “Right — stale grain.”

Evaluating Censor Wang said, “Don’t haul it all home — you need to exchange it with a merchant.”

The senior censor joined in: “Exactly! Why didn’t you ask us? Now you’ll have to hire a cart to take it over.”

Zhù Ying said, “It’s all been arranged — got the counterpart tablets, eight-to-ten exchange rate.”

The tone was so matter-of-fact and practiced that the censors felt slightly awkward: “Young people — so efficient.”

Zhù Ying said, “I didn’t know much of it myself — left it all to my mother to handle. Good new rice every month now.”

Evaluating Censor Wang shook his head: “The merchants’ rice doesn’t come in fresh until autumn either — what you’re eating now is still old stock, just slightly better than what we received…”

“Not bad!”

A voice at the doorway cut in: “Now the Court of Judicial Review has become a dining hall! You’re discussing food instead of trying cases!”

Pei Qing’s gaze swept the room. Every senior hand instantly returned to their place, sat up straight, with a stack of files in front of each of them, all saying in unison, “My lord.”

Only Zhù Ying’s desk was bare. Pei Qing’s face went dark: “Where are your case files? What have you been doing all these days?”

Zhù Ying said, “Learning how things are done here.”

Pei Qing said, “And have you learned?”

“More or less.”

Pei Qing said: “‘More or less’?! The Court of Judicial Review handles only major cases and capital cases! How many people’s lives and fates hang on what passes through our hands?! A hairbreadth’s deviation, and the error is a thousand li! ‘More or less’ — how much harm could those words cause?!”

All the censors fell silent, everyone wondering: What happened to him — is he taking it out on a child?

Zhù Ying was thinking the same thing. Either Zheng Xi had done something to offend Pei Qing, or Pei Qing had come in from outside having been offended by something. Otherwise, given his attitude toward her the last time, he hadn’t actually seemed to dislike her that much.

She stood properly at attention and said, “Yes. Your subordinate understands.”

“You understand what? So young, and already so careless! How many days have you even been at the Court of Judicial Review? And you’ve already taken leave! Going directly to Zheng the Presiding Judge to request leave!”

That shout could probably be heard three li away!

While everyone was trying to make sense of it, without warning Leng Yun reappeared: “Old Pei, what are you doing? So you got reported by the Censors — let’s come up with an approach and smooth it over!”

Pei Qing turned to face him, and gave him no face at all as he launched into a tirade: “Smooth it over?! Is smoothing things over what you came to the Court of Judicial Review to do? It is exactly this kind of ‘more or less,’ this ‘smoothing over,’ that has brought us to today’s disgrace! You and I have been assisting Presiding Judge Zheng in taking charge of the Court for only a few months — we haven’t seen a single commendation yet, and we’ve already been impeached by the Censors!”

So they had been impeached by the Censors…

Zhù Ying thought: So the Censors have their time to spare too. Could it be that Deputy Judge Pei was caught eating a meat cake in front of the Court?

The senior censor and others were now genuinely anxious. He had lived through the last time the Court of Judicial Review was called to account — he himself had been taken in and held for several days before being released. The Censors could not be taken lightly.

Leng Yun said coolly, “Just now at morning court, if you had this kind of vigor, we wouldn’t have been badgered with questions by those Censorate people like that. It was still the seventh young lord who came and smoothed it over in the end. Come on — the seventh young lord is asking for us. You may not want to smooth it over, but give us an explanation! Get the case through!”

He flicked his sleeve and swept out. Barely past the threshold, he turned once more: “Things are going to get interesting.”

Pei Qing followed, with a dark expression.

The remaining censors were left uneasy. The senior censor said, “I’ll go find Yang Liu — he has good intelligence!”