Chapter 007: A Righteous Helping Hand

There was nothing particularly technical about sorting the candidate registers.

With Liu Jin’s notebook in hand, Xue Rui felt his efficiency soar, as if he’d grown wings, and even found spare time to inquire about the other hereditary students.

Before long, Xue Rui had learned quite a bit, much to his surprise. The unassuming Liu Jin turned out to be the son of Liu Xin, the Summer Chief Officer of this bureau. The capable and composed Chen Li was the son of Chen Miao, a seasoned officer of the Five Divisions, and most of the remaining few were also sons of officials from the two bureaus, North and South.

As for the other group—people like Fan Yan and Liu Hui—over a dozen in all, they were mostly sons of former bureau officials or astronomical students.

"No wonder the two sides can’t see eye to eye; it seems the hereditary students are split into two classes," Xue Rui thought to himself.

In his conversations with Liu Jin, Xue Rui noticed veiled grievances toward Director Hu Deqing, as if some deep-seated resentment lay there. Moreover, Liu Jin showed little deference toward Peng Ying, suggesting a strained relationship between the Summer Chief Officer and the Director, which explained why their offspring clashed so fiercely.

Yet, for Xue Rui, this was a good thing. After all, the enemy of his enemy was his friend. With Liu Jin’s overtures, he was more than happy to accept the alliance.

In truth, there was another reason—one Xue Rui did not yet know. The discord among the older generation alone was not enough for Liu Jin to seek him out so deliberately; it owed more to the goodwill his father had sown.

Before his imprisonment, Xue Yuanhao had served three years as a registrar in the archives, teaching many hereditary students, including Liu Jin and his peers who entered this year. Xue Yuanhao was gentle with others, skilled in every discipline, and never withheld knowledge; he answered all questions diligently and was highly respected.

Liu Jin, as a hereditary student, had been exposed to astronomical and calendrical studies from a young age, his foundation far stronger than others his age. Still, he was troubled by one thing: such expertise was typically passed down from father to son, but after Liu Jin’s father was promoted to Summer Chief Officer, he was burdened with both calendar compilation and many additional duties assigned by the Director, leaving little time to teach his son.

Advanced astronomical computation was not something one could master alone; it required a true mentor. Thus, Liu Jin’s progress had stalled in recent years. Fortunately, upon entering the bureau this year, he met Xue Yuanhao, a dedicated teacher—a godsend for the knowledge-hungry Liu Jin.

Over the past half year, Liu Jin’s skills had advanced by leaps and bounds, leaving his peers far behind and making him the undisputed leader among this year’s cohort. His respect and gratitude toward Xue Yuanhao grew ever deeper.

Regrettably, good fortune was short-lived. Barely six months had passed before Xue Yuanhao was sent to prison, leaving the studious Liu Jin deeply disappointed and longing for his teacher’s swift release.

No one expected that, almost as soon as Xue Yuanhao had been taken away, the Director would appoint Peng Ying as the new registrar.

Had it been any other student, they might have accepted it, but Peng Ying was impossible to tolerate. Though the Director’s son, his talents were mediocre at best, his knowledge shallow, and he was both lazy and gluttonous. As registrar, he did little but sleep in the office; his rare lectures were rote recitations, devoid of substance.

Worse still, Peng Ying had a foul temper. If things didn’t go his way, he would curse the hereditary students, and he relished smacking their palms with a ruler, much to their misery.

At first, Fan Yan and his group hoped to curry favor with Peng Ying, thinking they might scrape through the year-end exams. But their flattery was met with scorn. Not only did Peng Ying refuse their overtures, he berated them mercilessly, calling them useless wastes unable to pass the exams and unworthy of the provisions they received.

Fan Yan and his friends were, in fact, “repeaters” who had failed last year’s exams. After the public shaming, they couldn’t swallow their pride to approach Peng Ying again.

In the Imperial Astronomy Bureau, genuine talent was the currency of advancement—those with true ability stood out, so the officials’ knowledge generally surpassed that of the students. Likewise, the sons of officials typically outshone ordinary hereditary students.

Fan Yan and his companions, limited in talent and learning, had no connections to rely on. To pass the exams, they would have to resort to the traditional method handed down among their predecessors: copying.

Naturally, their targets for copying were the top students sitting the same exams. Thus, Liu Jin’s veiled threats were highly effective against Fan Yan and his group. Who would dare offend a scholar who could help them pass?

Learning all this, Xue Rui was relieved. Fortunately, Peng Ying was unpopular and lacked the clout or means to deal with him. Otherwise, with just a little scheming, he could have persuaded the others to ostracize Xue Rui, leaving him truly isolated and helpless.

With Liu Jin’s county register, Xue Rui’s sorting progressed much faster, yet the sheer volume was daunting. By the fifth quarter after the hour of Si (10:15 a.m.), nearly half remained. Seeing this, Liu Jin rolled up his sleeves and pitched in.

“There’s no time. That Peng fellow will be up at the hour of Si (11 a.m.) sharp. If you’re not done by then, he’ll surely keep you from eating. Let me help you,” Liu Jin said as he set to work.

“If you’re so generous, Brother Liu, I shan’t refuse. Thank you,” Xue Rui replied, wiping the sweat from his brow in gratitude.

“It’s nothing.”

Liu Jin handled the registers with practiced ease, and with his help, the work sped up considerably. Several other young officials, after watching for a while, joined in, prompting Xue Rui to thank them repeatedly.

Seeing this, the other group of hereditary students hesitated. Someone whispered to Fan Yan, “Should we help too? After all, we’ll need to copy their answers for the exam—it wouldn’t do to be too distant.”

“Yes, it’s just a bit of work. It’s not as if we can’t do it,” another chimed in.

Fan Yan hesitated, struggling with his pride. By the time he finally decided to help, Liu Jin and the others had finished and scattered.

“Well, no need now,” Fan Yan said helplessly, spreading his hands. “I guess that goodwill won’t be earned.”

But his eyes lit up as he thought of something else. He loudly instructed the others, “Even though we didn’t help, we shouldn’t add insult to injury. If the registrar asks, none of you are to say anyone helped Xue Rui, understand? If anyone acts as a traitor, don’t expect us to include you in the future!”

“Don’t worry, we won’t say a word,” everyone promised, some even swearing solemn oaths.

This little commotion had been quite deliberate, and Xue Rui and the others heard every word.

Liu Jin brushed the dust from his sleeves and snorted, “Good that you know your place.”

“My thanks for covering for me,” Xue Rui added politely, bowing to the group.

Many hands make light work; after a few rounds of mutual praise, the atmosphere grew much more congenial, and laughter filled the archive room.

As he chatted with the others, Xue Rui noticed an older youth sitting in a corner, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. He’d noticed him upon arrival—the young man had kept his head down, scribbling on paper, barely looking up except to frown at the noise. He seemed like a wooden post, utterly out of place in the lively room.

Seeing Xue Rui’s attention, Liu Jin whispered, “That’s Guo Heng, a silent gourd who does nothing but write and calculate. He won’t say a word to anyone, so don’t worry.”

“That’s good,” Xue Rui replied, letting the matter drop and joining in the laughter.

As the hour of Si approached, the hereditary students, as if trained, quietly returned to their seats and pretended to study.

Xue Rui did the same, taking the empty seat in front of Guo Heng.

Sure enough, at the stroke of Si, the snores from the inner office ceased.

Soon, Peng Ying emerged, bleary-eyed. Seeing the pile of candidate registers gone, his face darkened, and he fixed Xue Rui with a chilly glare. “Who helped him?” he barked. “Step forward, now!”