Chapter 175

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

The people coming to apply arrived in waves.

At first there were only a scattered few, then they came in groups and clusters.

Registering the roster took no little time; one had to write clearly the person's name, conduct, residence, distinguishing features, the street and alley they belonged to and the headman's name, and also take a fingerprint, and issue that stamped paper with the matching serial number.

Listening to it, it sounds like just a few steps, but actually doing it is extremely tedious; therefore once a crowd gathered, the queue would pile up and not move very fast.

Fortunately Song Miao had earlier set the tables out in a row, maximizing the number of lines that could queue, so it did not become overly congested.

Seeing the crowd now, she went out with Kong Fuyang and walked through the process once; the two of them quickly detected where the main bottleneck lay.

"The transcription takes too long!" Kong Fuyang was so anxious his eyes turned red. "Why not call that carving master to help carve some more seals, carve the streets and alleys on them too, so one stamp does it all."

Song Miao shook her head: "No time to carve so many; moreover Hua Prefecture has many streets and alleys, and here we have ten-odd lines — how many seals would we need to carve in the end?"

Speaking to this point, she suddenly hit on an idea and proposed: "Hua Prefecture's major streets and alleys are just those; most applicants are concentrated in a few areas, and the headmen's names correspond accordingly. Why not make a register, assign a sequence number, transcribe that sequence list, post a copy at each table, give each registrar a copy — then they only need to fill in a Jia Yi Bing Ding Zi Ugly Yin Mao serial number, and do the sub-entries afterward; wouldn't that save some time?"

Kong Fuyang clapped his hands: "Good method!"

After praising it, he pondered briefly, then drew inferences and said: "Better yet, when they form lines, guide people to queue by street and alley; that way those from nearby streets and alleys are on the same sheet, the registrars also save time, and grouping later will be convenient too!"

Song Miao immediately nodded, praising: "This is good!"

Just as they spoke, she looked up and saw Wang Shuji standing a few steps away; she at once went forward, mentioned the idea the two of them had just come up with, and asked: "Does Master Wang think it feasible?"

Wang Shuji had long since heard their earlier conversation; now he stroked his beard and smiled: "Quite proper; only who will you have do the dividing of the lines? I see manpower is not quite enough."

Song Miao pointed at the many queuing people behind: "Find a few who have already registered; now pull two out for each different street and alley to help divide the lines — it can maintain order and identify people; we'll just treat it as them starting work today, pay daily wages; don't know if that works?"

Wang Shuji nodded: "Feasible; go do it."

He added a reminder: "Only you must first do a headcount; some streets and alleys have many people, some few; best to allocate according to expected numbers — few can be merged into one line, many can have two extra lines; if changes occur, adjust again."

Song Miao listened, yet did not leave, but stood in place, performed a bow, and said politely: "Many thanks for Master Wang's reminder; only right now manpower is tight, we really cannot spare enough people to transcribe the streets, alleys, and headmen's names; could we…"

As she spoke, she glanced toward the back at Wang's nephew who had just returned carrying a tray.

Wang Shuji was still stroking his beard; his hand paused — how could he not guess Song Miao's meaning? But seeing his own nephew darting about energetically, he felt quite complex — both amused and sighing — and finally said: "You two work it out with him yourselves."

When Song and Kong found Wang Er Gongzi, he agreed almost at the first call.

Thus when Feng the clerk came forward, he saw him full of enthusiasm, following the prefectural students to each transcribe a portion, copying the existing streets, alleys, and headmen's names; when the prefectural map arrived, he hurriedly helped organize and transcribe again, then went to ask each queuing applicant in turn — simply busy to the point of not wanting to stop, truly a bit unbearable to watch.

The man endured and endured, but in the end still sought out Wang Shuji, saying: "Vice Commissioner, how can you let Second Young Master toil like this, doing work for free?"

Wang Shuji shook his head: "Let him be; following me these past half year, he hasn't had a few peers to interact with, only pressed to study — long confined; letting him truly handle some miscellaneous affairs is also good."

He had been an official for many years; his experience could not be called narrow, and he had seen much. He made a round here, gave a few pointers, and indeed saved considerable effort. When he finished his round, he did not linger, returned to the official post house, just sat down and picked up his brush to write a letter; halfway through the letter, he heard thump-thump-thump knocking at the door — it was his nephew entering with a document in hand.

"Uncle, take a look at this!"

Wang Shuji took the manuscript; one glance and he saw it was a personnel allocation method; he asked casually: "Where did this come from?"

Wang's nephew said: "Song Xiaoniangzi gave it to me — she asked if I could help follow this regulation to group today's recruits."

Wang Shuji laughed: "This young lady — the Water Supervisor spends one share of money to hire someone, asks her to do two shares of work, and she actually exerts herself so; truly a bargain!"

Wang's nephew added: "I read it; the meaning is all clear, done in quite fine detail, only it's rather verbose, and not a trace of literary grace. Originally wanted to help polish it, but however I revised, it never felt right; knowing my own writing is no good, I simply brought it for Uncle to check over."

Wang Shuji nodded, leaned back in the armchair, and skimmed the manuscript roughly.

But only halfway through, he unconsciously sat upright, turned back to the first page, and read carefully from the start.

Holding these many manuscripts, he had felt they were somewhat too thick; reading them now, he realized this looked like one document but was actually one covering three — separately used to arrange recruits of different scales.

One covered how to allocate and arrange if under a thousand recruits; another for under three thousand; yet another for five thousand and above — how to allocate and arrange.

From Wang Shuji's perspective, he could naturally discern the level of this piece.

"Who did this?" he couldn't help praising, "Done very practically!"

When he got his nephew's writing, Wang Shuji only glanced hastily, and in his heart he sighed once.

His nephew had been by his side nearly a year; temperament gentle, quite patient, could endure hardship — only a pity that in the way of writing, he truly had no gift.

Elder Brother sent him over early; he naturally knew the intention, and spent considerable heart-power — first sent him into the county school, hoping he'd test into the prefectural school, then see if he could advance to the Taixue.

Alas the boy took the prefectural exam several times and failed; no choice, he used his son's father-in-law's connection to place him in Jixiang Academy where his in-law taught.

Alas he stayed only half a year; his in-law sent word suggesting he take him back, only saying his own ability was limited, truly couldn't bring him out; leaving him here would only delay the younger generation.

When Wang Shuji opened the letter and saw his nephew's attached writings, seeing almost no progress, he was also helpless; hurriedly took him back.

He searched everywhere, truly no suitable place — not to mention his nephew Wang Ji'an himself could no longer bear it; he carried thorn branches on his back, knelt in the ancient manner of carrying thorns to apologize, only saying he truly was not material for study; reciting books and writing essays was more painful than visiting a grave; asking if he himself could stop entering academies and stop the examination path.

Elder Brother's family had only this one son; if he doesn't study, what else can he do? They have a few mu of land, a few shops — but truly go farm and do business?

He dared not say this to Elder Brother; but seeing his nephew's state, he truly loathed reading, and couldn't force him; so he kept him by his side, let him see what odd jobs were like, whether it wasn't still better than studying.

Who knew this odd-jobbing would last half a year, and his nephew would relish it, like a fish in water.

Wang Shuji recently often spoke with him of officialdom's ways, just to see if there was still hope.

Now seeing what the other party wrote, and comparing it with the original version Song Xiaoniangzi gave, his heart finally lost the last thread of hope; he could only sigh, but it was his own nephew after all — he had to break it down and explain.

"You only read, feel this piece is verbose and lacks literary grace; but you look at your own revision…"

As he spoke, he placed the two manuscripts side by side with the same content, pointed for his nephew to see: "You read this sentence of yours; though it cuts seven or eight characters, doesn't it create ambiguity?"

Seeing his nephew frowning in comparison, Wang Shuji's brows couldn't help but knit as well; he sighed: "I told you before writing should be concise — not that all writing is better with fewer words. This piece you call a regulation; better called a process; its purpose is to teach people how to do it, by what steps; it never values literary elegance, only that reading it produces no ambiguity."

"This isn't written for literati; it's written for the runners and clerks below; as long as they follow it, they won't err, and won't create chaos."

He spoke to here, then added: "Moreover you think this text has no literary grace; but if one were to revise, even I would have nowhere to start — if one hasn't truly done it, only relying on a slap-of-the-head wild writing, one cannot produce such a thing."

Wang Shuji already quite appreciated this manuscript; now the more he analyzed, the heavier his admiration; he added: "You go ask Song Xiaoniangzi who did this — right now from Sanmen Zha to Tianmen Zha the canal transport is congested, precisely the time to employ people; I'll see if I can bring this person along back."

"Ah?" Wang Ji'an never thought that just delivering a manuscript back would suddenly land him another errand.

He couldn't help but say: "One can't rule out that it was done by some official of the Du Shui Jian; how can we just walk away from this?"

Wang Shuji didn't take it to heart, waving his hand: "Here we're just digging a canal; who can't dig one? The Du Shui Jian and the Transport Commission, anyone would choose them — the whole realm depends on the grain transport; capable people should go do truly important things."

Wang Ji'an didn't dare defy his Uncle, so he could only agree; but once he went out the Door, where could he still find Song Xiaoniangzi? Asking around, he only then learned she had long since taken a group of Young Ladies and Aunties out of the city.

The river section to be dug lay to the Northwest of Hua Prefecture City, about seven or eight li of Road; because this batch of hired people were all going for the first time, time was tight, and there were still many newly prepared things to bring, Song Miao simply arranged mule carts.

The kitchen was a temporarily erected shed, set up at a village entrance outside the city; although it was still two or three li from the river section to be dug, the benefit was that there was a shared village Well there.

Even a clever housewife can't cook without rice; equally she can't cook without water; for the sake of the water source, all other difficulties can be overcome.

Because she had written out the list early on, and also drew the layout of the kitchen she wanted and the stove arrangement into a diagram and gave it to Han Li, and came by several times midway to check progress, Song Miao was not unfamiliar with this place.

Bringing Ma Shenzǐ and a group of people, they had just arrived at the spot; entering the Room, almost everyone let out a cry of surprise.

A huge shed; inside, rows of stoves were joined together; at a glance, the stoves were simply dense, no fewer than several dozen.

The stoves were new; the rest — pots, basins, knives, cutting boards — were also new; the firewood had only been transported in recently, airing in the back courtyard, still rough logs, not yet split.

Song Miao, together with Dabing, led everyone to split firewood, light the stoves, wash the cutting boards, knives, basins, and so on; while doing it, she also reviewed the Fifty-Two Rules once more.

By the time they were busy until nearly noon, she asked who among the crowd was skilled at making wheat food; those who raised their hands came out to knead dough together, and she brought people to use the new stoves and new griddles to bake some biscuits on the spot.

The biscuits were baked; Dabing also called two Aunties, and together they carried the two pots from the mule cart through the Door, opening the lids respectively.

One pot held sliced, braised pig head; because the weather was warm, it was still somewhat warm at this time; the other pot held vinegar pickled lettuce stem and lettuce stem skin; additionally there was a small covered basin holding scallions and green onions.

Song Miao now asked about knife skills, got five or six Aunties and Young Ladies, and asked them to either slice pig ears and pig face meat, or slice the washed scallions and green onions.

Everyone chose the wooden-handled knives and cutting boards farther away; the sliced meat and scallions alike were all considered evenly sized.

The remaining bit of pig cheek meat, Song Miao cut herself into extremely thin slices.

Once everything was tidied up, Song Miao had them step aside, called out a few names, first asked those present about dietary restrictions — indeed no one had any — then let these few people help clip the biscuits.

She then watched everyone's hands and feet move nimbly stuffing the fillings.

Several people all knew this was an assessment, and the atmosphere had arrived; everyone exerted themselves, each movement crisp, practically vying to be first, reincarnation couldn't be this tense — not only that, when stuffing they gave a bit of everything, neither shaking nor giving too much, terrified a single drop would fall and make Song Miao think they did poor work.

The biscuits were baked according to headcount, slightly larger than a palm, two per person.

Once clipped, the crowd then lined up to receive them and eat.

Song Miao also took two, put some vinegar pickled lettuce stem and lettuce stem skin in a small bowl, called Dabing, and the two went to the next Room.

The shed's sound insulation wasn't good; the two had just sat down when they heard faint voices from the Room just now.

Dabing pinching a biscuit, couldn't help but ask: "Young Lady, why must we fuss? These two biscuits, two or three bites and they're gone; eaten, there's still much to do — in a bit we still have to test reciting the rules one by one?"

Song Miao smiled: "If you and I sat in that Room, who could eat well? When you were in the yamen before, did you like eating with your master?"

Dabing muttered: "Before was before; now I truly like eating together with Young Lady!"

Song Miao held back a laugh, but pushed the vinegar pickled lettuce stem toward him: "Just eat your biscuit; if it gets greasy, mix in a bite of this."

Dabing happily agreed, taking big bites of the biscuit.

In the neighboring shed, Ma Shenzǐ was also biting into a biscuit.

The piping hot thick biscuit, both outer layers baked to a burnt fragrance, inside soft and slightly chewy, layers very distinct, hollow in the middle, already stuffed with much meat and vegetables.

The meat and vegetables inside were half-warm; Song Miao had braised the pig head that morning and brought it over to soak for half a day, already thoroughly flavored; after everyone sliced it thin, they packed it seriously, each biscuit having a bit of everything.

Pig head is troublesome to make; not boiled through it's hard to pull the meat off; boiled through takes too much firewood; handled poorly it still carries a rank smell; Ma Shenzǐ rarely ate it normally; this made her even somewhat stunned when she bit the first mouthful.

Pig head meat, is it this delicious?