Chapter 12

After the head steward left, the atmosphere among Zheng Fa and the other two became strange.

Gao Yuan turned his face away from Zheng Fa, gripping the corner of his robe tightly, his posture tense.

Although Zheng Fa’s expression remained calm, he too felt a flicker of unease inside.

Ironically, Han Cheng, who had been the most dejected moments ago, now seemed to have given up entirely, his gaze shifting constantly between Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan, wearing an expression of eager anticipation.

No one spoke.

Silence was the hardest to bear; Zheng Fa didn’t know how long it lasted before the head steward hurried back.

Zheng Fa clearly saw Gao Yuan’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

“I’ve already reported to Lady Zhao,” the head steward said at once. “Lady Zhao has decided on the young master’s new attendants:”

He glanced at the three of them, paused slightly, then said:

“Gao Yuan.”

Gao Yuan beside him couldn’t help but sway slightly.

“And Zheng Fa.”

“Two?” Xu Zheng asked, surprised.

“Two.”

The head steward confirmed.

He himself was puzzled—Lady Zhao had originally only intended to find one more attendant for the Seventh Young Master, and may even have already favored Gao Yuan. But when he reported Zheng Fa’s exceptional talent, Lady Zhao changed her mind.

He still remembered the faint voice drifting from behind the curtain as he left:

“Interesting!”

Zheng Fa couldn’t help glancing at Han Cheng’s face.

Indeed, it was hard to describe.

Two out of the three had been chosen.

Who wouldn’t feel awkward?

Zheng Fa could imagine how Han Cheng’s emotions had exploded.

“The two of you return home today to pack your things. Come to the Zhao residence tomorrow.”

With that, he gestured for Zheng Fa and the others to leave.

As they departed, Han Cheng walked off quickly, clearly resentful.

Gao Yuan, however, deliberately walked beside Zheng Fa; Zheng Fa sensed he had something to say.

Sure enough, once Han Cheng had faded into the distance and was clearly out of earshot, Gao Yuan spoke: “Brother Zheng, from now on, we must work together.”

The tone of those words carried deep meaning.

Zheng Fa turned to look at Gao Yuan and saw only sincerity on his face—no trace of the earlier wariness or caution.

This shift in attitude was too sudden.

Even if the position of Seventh Young Master’s attendant was especially unique within the Zhao residence.

But now Gao Yuan was also an attendant—why such a drastic change from arrogance to humility?

“Brother Zheng, you probably don’t know—we aren’t the Seventh Young Master’s first attendants.”

“I know. The son of Wang, the steward of our Tian Village, was his previous attendant. He was beaten and sent back.”

“No, not just him.” Zheng Fa watched Gao Yuan extend five fingers straight: “Five people, since the Seventh Young Master began his studies, have served as his attendants. All were dismissed by Lady Zhao. The unlucky ones, like the steward’s son you mentioned, were beaten as well.”

Zheng Fa couldn’t help grinning.

He now understood why Gao Yuan wanted to ally with him.

Before the difficult Seventh Young Master, their status had shifted from rivals to allies.

As for rivalries among colleagues—

We haven’t even sat down yet; what’s the point of fighting?

Thinking of this, Zheng Fa asked the question he’d wanted to ask earlier: “Brother Gao, I heard you have a scholarly title?”

“By luck—I passed the Tongsheng exam three years ago.”

“A scholarly title qualifies you for office, doesn’t it?” Recalling his history lessons, Zheng Fa couldn’t understand why Gao Yuan was competing for such a lowly position: “Why come here to vie for a mere attendant’s post?”

“Office?” Gao Yuan looked as if he didn’t understand Zheng Fa’s question: “Who said it qualifies you for office? A Tongsheng must take the Xiusheng exam; a Xiusheng must take the Jinshi exam. Yes, once you pass the Jinshi, you may be appointed as an official clerk—but that’s not an official position.”

“Clerk?”

“Brother Zheng, don’t you truly know? In our imperial court, from county magistrates to prefectural governors—all must be disciples of the Immortal Sects. They’re too lazy to handle mundane affairs, so they rely on us Confucian scholars to serve as clerks and do their bidding.”

“As for this ‘mere’ attendant position—the Zhao family has deep ties to the Immortal Sects. Besides, the Seventh Young Master’s elder sister is an Immortal Sect disciple. What right do I, a mere Tongsheng, have to look down on this post?”

Watching Gao Yuan’s retreating back, Zheng Fa continued pondering his words.

Even passing the Jinshi exam only grants you the status of a clerk? And only because those Immortal Sect disciples look down on mundane affairs and delegate tasks to people like him.

Only now did he understand the difference between the Xuanwei Realm and ancient history.

In history books, ancient dynasties had power structured like a great pyramid—imperial authority, ministers, commoners—with power flowing downward.

But in the Xuanwei Realm, everything revolved around the Immortal Sects, like concentric circles.

The Immortal Sects were the largest circle; their disciples became local lords, controlling nearly all power, answering only to the Sects, not to higher-ranking lords.

When they formed families, each became a smaller circle, which then expanded into clerks, servants, and other even smaller circles.

It resembled more closely the feudal lords of Western textbooks.

Thus, for people like Gao Yuan, serving a powerful clan like the Zhao family was already an excellent opportunity.

At this moment, he truly understood how precious his position as an attendant was.

Yet his understanding of this world was still shallow—he wasn’t sure if his conclusions were correct—but he was certain: in the Xuanwei Realm, the Immortal Sects reigned supreme; there was no room for imperial authority.

He exited through the back gate and found the old cart driver still waiting there.

But he didn’t see Huang Yu.

“Young Master has arrived?” The old driver immediately jumped down, pulled out a low stool from behind him, and extended his hand to help Zheng Fa onto the cart.

Zheng Fa instantly understood—the old man had heard he’d become the Seventh Young Master’s attendant.

The Zhao family had been established for a thousand years; even their servants’ relationships were tangled. News sometimes reached the servants before it reached the masters.

He quickly waved his hand and hopped onto the ox cart himself.

The cart had changed too. When Zheng Fa arrived, the floor had been plain wooden planks, scattered with a few vegetable leaves.

Now, thick black woolen rugs covered the planks.

And the old driver was smiling respectfully at him.

“Young Master, shall we depart?”

After patiently waiting until Zheng Fa was seated, the old man asked in a deferential tone.

“Old man, just call me the same as before,” Zheng Fa finally couldn’t hold back: “Call me Xiao Zheng. Let’s go.”

The return journey was swift. Amid the wind, Zheng Fa suddenly heard the old man speak to him:

“Young… Xiao Zheng, the food box beside you—it’s some snacks I bought for myself at Juxing Restaurant in the city. Take it home with you.”

Zheng Fa had already noticed the food box—black lacquered wood, tightly sealed, clearly valuable.

“Old man, I can’t accept gifts without merit…”

“What merit? Didn’t I get your mother’s cured pork and buns today? Don’t laugh at me, Xiao Zheng—your mother’s cooking is better than the head chef at Juxing! These snacks are a small return—I’m the one who got the better deal!”

Zheng Fa could swear that on the way here, the old man hadn’t shown any particular fondness for his family’s cured pork.

“They’re just home-cooked things.”

“Don’t refuse, Xiao Zheng. You came all the way to Jingzhou City—you must bring something back for your little sister, right?”

Remembering how reluctant Zheng Shan had been to let him go, Zheng Fa fell silent.

As evening fell and smoke began rising from the small huts beside the fields, Zheng Fa finally returned to Tian Village.

Before he even stepped down from the cart, he heard his little sister Zheng Shan’s voice beneath the big elm tree at the village entrance:

“Wait till my brother comes back! See if you dare bully me anymore!”

Zheng Fa’s heart tightened. Though Zheng Shan was a crybaby at home,

she never cried in public.

Yet now, her voice carried a faint tremble of tears.