Chapter 10 Reporting for Duty

Chapter 10: Starting the Job

Hearing this, Lin Nanshu’s face seemed to flush even redder, but he stayed surprisingly calm.

"Are you alright?"

Cheng Ge braced himself on the stone table and barely sat down, but the second his butt hit the stool, he jumped right back up.

"Ah... sss..." Cheng Ge’s face twisted in pain as he yelped.

Lin Nanshu quickly stepped forward to steady him, worried he might fall again.

"I’ll have a doctor come check you out and do today’s acupuncture too."

Cheng Ge’s back and butt were both killing him now, and he didn’t dare tough it out alone.

"Okay, make it fast."

Lin Nanshu helped him back to his room, and Cheng Ge scrambled onto the bed and carefully lay on his stomach.

He really didn’t dare mess around anymore—another fall or two and he’d be toast.

Soon, a doctor rushed in with his medicine box.

The doctor took a close look at Cheng Ge’s injuries, shaking his head and sighing. "The old injuries aren’t healed, and now there are new ones. It’ll take even longer to recover."

Lin Nanshu came in from outside, his eyes briefly landing on Cheng Ge’s back before he quickly looked away.

The area around Cheng Ge’s tailbone was red, swollen, and bruised purple, standing out against his pale skin and looking pretty scary.

The doctor started applying medicine and inserting needles, and Cheng Ge winced. "Hey old man, take it easy, that hurts!"

Lin Nanshu picked up a piece of red bean cake, gently placed it in Cheng Ge’s hand, and said softly, "Just bear with it, it’ll be over soon."

Cheng Ge took a bite—it was sweet and sticky—and his face instantly relaxed. "Give me another one."

Lin Nanshu sat by the bed, didn’t hold back, and handed him another piece.

With the red bean cake in his mouth, Cheng Ge stopped thinking about anything else. The room was filled with calming incense.

After about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, the doctor started removing the needles, and Cheng Ge was already fast asleep.

"Apply this ointment twice a day, morning and night, to reduce swelling and pain." The doctor held out a small jar of ointment, talking to Cheng Ge, only to realize he was asleep.

Lin Nanshu took the ointment and said softly, "I’ll take it."

The doctor packed up his medicine box and left.

Lin Nanshu sat by the bed, quietly watching Cheng Ge’s sleeping face, his long lashes fluttering a little.

He let out a soft sigh, reached out to take the half-eaten cake from Cheng Ge’s hand, and wiped it clean with a handkerchief.

He leaned over, draped the clothes over Cheng Ge’s back, and his eyes fell on Cheng Ge’s wet hair hanging off the bed, looking totally helpless.

Cheng Ge looked young—even though he was an adult, he seemed more like seventeen or eighteen, still with a childish air.

He must have been pampered at home, careless about a lot of things.

But his body was really fragile, prone to bumps and bruises, and coughing up blood was no big deal.

Lin Nanshu thought, if he had a little brother like this, he’d probably have to take care of him forever, even tying him to his belt when going out to feel safe.

For now, he couldn’t wake him up, but sleeping with wet hair would be bad.

So Lin Nanshu resigned himself to drying Cheng Ge’s hair for him.

Cheng Ge stayed in bed obediently for two days because of his butt injury, and the reason for exactly two days was simple:

He had to go to work.

Even though he rested well, he wasn’t fully healed.

But that wasn’t the worst part—what scared Cheng Ge more was being broke. He really didn’t have a single coin to his name.

If some beauty suddenly fell for him at first sight, crying and insisting on marrying him, he couldn’t even afford the bride price.

Cheng Ge’s ranking in the imperial exam was pretty high, and the court usually picked the best from the second and third tiers to enter the Hanlin Academy as Hanlin Bachelors, basically national reserve talents.

Among the Grand Secretaries of past dynasties, nearly ninety percent came from the Hanlin Bachelors, which is why it’s called the "Cradle of Chancellors."

But the Hanlin Bachelor role was still an internship, with daily structured training and dedicated teachers.

After three years, they had to take the "Dispersion Exam," where about thirty percent would be weeded out and sent to local posts.

The rest would either stay in the Hanlin Academy as "Reserve Chancellors" or get assigned to the Six Ministries.

Cheng Ge was totally confident in himself; with his eyes closed, he could dream of standing at the top of power, looking down on everyone.

That feeling of being second only to the emperor and above everyone else had woken him up laughing in his dreams countless times.

Of course, he knew he had to take it step by step. For now, his biggest goal was to get his salary.

The salary for a Hanlin Bachelor wasn’t much—just four taels a month base pay.

With extra allowances like grain subsidies or seasonal bonuses, his annual income could hit around two hundred taels.

If he did well, three to five hundred taels wasn’t impossible.

That might not seem like a lot, but in this era, an average farming family only earned about a dozen taels a year.

And at the bun shop on Fukuang Road where Cheng Ge often went, a big meat bun only cost two coins. By comparison, Cheng Ge was in the high-income bracket.

Right now, he was living off Lin Nanshu’s generosity, and while it was pleasant, as a mature man of noble character, he had sternly reminded himself that this wasn’t right.

On his first day of work, Cheng Ge got up early, planning to make a good impression first. Once he became a veteran, he could slack off.

Since his back was still stiff, Lin Nanshu arranged for a carriage to take him.

That wasn’t unusual—around here, most who could afford to study and become officials came from wealthy families.

For a poor family to produce a high-ranking official was nearly impossible.

But when people saw the Lin family’s carriage, they instinctively stepped aside.

The power of aristocratic families was deeply entrenched, not to be trifled with, and even the current emperor had to tread carefully.

Cheng Ge was sound asleep in the carriage when it suddenly jolted, nearly throwing him off balance.

"Master Cheng, we’ve arrived," a servant called softly from outside the carriage.

However, silence was his only answer.

Seeing that the time was almost up, the servant started to panic—being late on your first day was a huge no-no.

Cheng Ge faced constant evaluations, large and small, often colored by the examiners' personal biases, and since the ancients placed great importance on reputation, it was crucial to make a good first impression.

The servant had no choice but to steel himself and tap on the carriage, calling softly, "Master Cheng, it's time to report for duty."

Cheng Ge blinked groggily, muttering, "Just two more minutes."

The servant's face turned red with worry; though he didn't know what "two minutes" meant, the tone suggested trouble.

"Master, we're already at the Hanlin Academy. Being late would be disastrous."

Hearing this, Cheng Ge's eyes snapped open, and he quickly poked his head out of the carriage.

Only then did he fully wake up, rubbing his eyes as he stepped down.

The sky had not yet brightened, and the servant led the way with a lantern, the occasional clatter of horse hooves echoing around them.