Outside the annex, the newly appointed gatekeeper stood waiting at a distance, his demeanor as reverent as if receiving an honored guest.
Servants in aristocratic households were often snobbish. Had it not been for Cheng Jinzhou's tactics the day before, they would have shown superficial respect while slacking off in secret. The Cheng family, with its centuries-old legacy, had passed down this culture of servitude through generations—a workplace philosophy refined over hundreds of years.
Cheng Jinzhou showed no reaction to the gatekeeper's fawning. His expression remained cold as he ordered, "Find me a few skilled scribes—houseborn servants, the loyal kind."
Before Cheng Qizhong could respond, the carriage had already passed through the main gate.
The gatekeeper had no authority to allocate personnel on his own. After reporting to the second steward, who had no choice but to comply, the latter gathered several clerks from the accounts office and hurried over. After all, those entrusted with household accounts were relatively reliable, and with the additional requirement of good penmanship, the steward truly had no better candidates.
In the main hall of the Third Branch's courtyard, Cheng Jinzhou had already prepared himself and begun copying the Six-Year Primary School Mathematics Textbook, Volume 3.
"Perfect timing," he said upon seeing four or five men jogging toward him. Setting down the unfamiliar brush, he stepped out of the open-windowed room and gestured to the side chambers. "Steward, prepare five rooms for these men, each equipped with writing supplies. Gentlemen, please choose any room you prefer."
The five were second-tier accountants—men who had studied for three or four years, knew basic characters, could perform simple arithmetic, but had no hope of passing the imperial examinations. Their usual duties involved transcription, placing them just above second-tier laborers in status. Now, they murmured deferentially, "We dare not presume."
Cheng Jinzhou paid no heed. Clearing his throat, he said sternly, "You're all generational servants of the Cheng family, but I must emphasize: whatever I have you write today, whether useful or meaningless, if even a single word leaks out, it will be treated as divulging military secrets."
A child speaking so solemnly should have been laughable, yet the men in the courtyard kept their heads bowed. Yesterday, they had heard—or even witnessed—how the second steward had dealt with the gatekeeper. The once-respectable Gao Shiliu had been seen packing his belongings in disgrace. The annex staff rarely interacted with the main family's heir; keeping their distance bred caution, and they naturally sought to avoid offense. Moreover, the punishment for leaking military secrets was terrifying.
As the saying went: military merit builds families, civil service perpetuates them. Though noble houses had long abandoned strict military discipline, certain traditions remained. For instance, leaking "military secrets"—which primarily meant disclosing the master's words—would result in the offender being beaten to death and their family sold into slavery in the Far West. The Cheng family had employed such measures frequently in years past.
The clerks likely didn't believe a child like Cheng Jinzhou possessed any real military secrets, but they all complied. Whether any secretly resented the second steward remained unknown.
"Go inside," Cheng Jinzhou said with an air of authority. The men, unwilling to cause trouble, each selected a side chamber and settled in.
Truthfully, even if the Great Xia Dynasty's mathematics could rival Europe's during the Renaissance, these clerks understood little of it. Cheng Jinzhou was simply being cautious—he knew astrologists relied heavily on mathematics, especially for astronomy, but he wasn't sure to what extent.
With many such copying tasks ahead, he didn't want to stumble over something so simple.
The third-grade math textbook contained little substantive content. After skimming it, Cheng Jinzhou copied the numerical sections himself, then divided the rest into seven parts. He recited passages in each room while the clerks scribbled furiously, then hurried to the next.
The thin math book was fully transcribed in half an hour. Dismissing the clerks to rest, Cheng Jinzhou organized the copied pages and summoned Customer Service Representative 010.
The CSR, seemingly never asleep, promptly replied, "Would you like to purchase new books?"
"You're not even trying to hide it," Cheng Jinzhou remarked before making his request: "Give me something usable this time—no more primary school math."
His demand was ignored. "4,500 words. Confirm?"
"Confirmed." Resigned, Cheng Jinzhou walked to the storeroom and watched as nearly 20 dan of grain vanished without a trace. Big corporations really don't care—they deduct whatever they want, no questions asked. Might as well buy the cheapest grain next time.
Unaware of Cheng Jinzhou's thoughts, the CSR cheerfully accepted the goods and revealed the new book's contents.
"Seriously? English? British literature?" Cheng Jinzhou groaned at the ornate script on the cover. Unlike Playboy, where images conveyed meaning clearly, this was incomprehensible.
"Random selection," CSR 010 stated.
"Next time it's French, I'll lose it. Why not give me Penthouse or something? I thought I could choose categories."
CSR 010 replied indifferently, "Would you like to expand the selection to include all known civilizations in the universe?"
"Forget it." Wiping his brow, Cheng Jinzhou conceded that at least this book was period-appropriate. If he ever reached the Far West, it might earn him some renown. A 30th-century physics text or 80th-century chemistry manual would leave him utterly helpless.
Having endured years of exam-oriented education and plagiarized foreign papers, Cheng Jinzhou had decent English skills. Flipping through the book, he bargained, "Fine, I'll take literature, but randomizing the language is ridiculous..."
"Your Star Alliance rank is insufficient," CSR 010 said dismissively.
Cheng Jinzhou cursed. "What's my current rank?"
"Star Alliance points: 2. Rank: 1."
"So one point per transaction? When do I reach Rank 2?"
"10 points." Perhaps feeling slightly guilty, CSR 010 answered before adding, "For inquiries beyond transactions, we recommend purchasing—"
"Got it—that outrageously expensive manual, right? Copying premium services now?" Sighing, Cheng Jinzhou said, "I'll copy this first. We'll talk later."
The copied Roxana was riddled with errors, its squiggly letters unsuitable for delegation. Fortunately, it was short. After a hasty transcription, Cheng Jinzhou slumped in his chair and summoned the CSR again, adopting a telecom-complaint tactic: "Okay, swap it out. Give me another foreign book, and I'll file a malicious complaint."
"Your Star Alliance rank is insufficient..."
Sometimes, a single sentence could drive a man mad—like a glass of spilled milk.