Li Xuanji spent the morning busy alongside his colleague, carrying out three enforcement actions and earning an extra three mao in bonuses — though he wouldn't see the cash until the next pay cycle, when it would be issued all at once.
Ordinary security officers drew a first-tier wage: two yuan a day. Half a day's work meant he'd earned one yuan and three mao.
"Old Li, let's go — time to eat."
"You got family nearby? Eating with them, or coming with me for fast food?"
Li Xuanji's colleague was young, around twenty, surnamed Liu.
Li Xuanji was thirty-four. Clean-shaven and well-kept, he looked more like twenty-four or twenty-five. But an identity card doesn't lie — thirty-four, plain as day. Everyone called him Old Li.
"No family here."
"Then come along."
The two made their way to the nearest fast-food eatery. The moment they stepped inside, they saw a long counter divided into many sections, each one labeled with a price.
Two mao, three mao, four mao, five mao…
The most expensive items ran eight mao or a full yuan. If you wanted a dish costing several yuan or more, you went to a proper restaurant — this was just fast food.
"Old Li, prices are right there on the labels. Take what you want, settle up at the far end, then sit wherever you like." His colleague said this while helping himself to a bowl of coarse-grain rice for two mao, then picking up a small dish of shredded potato for another two mao.
Li Xuanji had gone through a crash orientation at Jinyuan and had gained some grasp of the local currency — in fact a clearer grasp than he'd ever had of copper coins or silver, since he had never in his life actually bought anything with copper coins or silver.
After a moment's hesitation, he took a portion of white rice for five mao and a dish of vegetables with shredded pork for eight mao. Then he went to the cashier's window, awkwardly drew out his wallet, counted out one yuan and three mao, and handed it over. He followed the others' lead in ladling out a free bowl of thin, watery soup, then sat down at the table where his colleague had settled.
"Damn, Old Li, you're loaded! Eating like that, one day's wages won't even cover two meals."
"My family's fairly well off."
"Makes sense — you got placed in the security office straight off. Family must be doing alright." He paused. "Not like me. Born into hardship. Lucky I came across the Lord — I'm more than satisfied with the life I have now."
Li Xuanji took a bite of rice, a bite of the vegetables. It was mediocre, he thought — barely passable. His colleague across the table was eating something far plainer, yet wore the look of a man savoring a feast. Did he genuinely find it delicious?
"Old Li, I can tell you come from a good background. Let me tell you — this meal cost me four mao, which is four copper coins. A few years ago, four coppers was what fed a family of six for an entire day."
Li Xuanji stared at the bowl of rice and the meager dish across from him, astonished. "A family of six — for a whole day? That's impossible!"
"Ha — you really never lived hard, did you? Four coppers bought you close to a jin of coarse grain. Mix in a jin of wild greens, and that's roughly three liang of food per person, isn't it? Of course, you had to eat it all in the morning — eat in the morning and you've got the strength to work all day. When you finished and got hungry again, you just stayed hungry. Couldn't kill you, at least."
"This shredded potato — it's really something. I used to eat with no side dish at all."
So that was what life truly looked like for ordinary people. No wonder that person had said the people here were already living comparatively well.
That afternoon the two of them continued patrolling the streets, and Li Xuanji did his best to imitate his colleague's manner of enforcement and communication. There was no hard requirement to keep walking without pause, to cover a set distance, or to make a fixed number of rounds. When they were tired, they could rest at any time — though the work still had to amount to something, or the squad leader would have words for them.
"Old Li, shift's done — see you tomorrow!"
"Right, see you tomorrow." Li Xuanji stood there for a moment, slightly at a loss. Off duty — the rest of the time was his own. What was he supposed to do?
He sat for a while in the security office, then stopped at the nearby fast-food eatery for a bite to eat, and finally made his way back to where he was lodging.
He wore all black — black jacket, black trousers — the color of the court's law. Back in the capital, when he had slipped out of the palace in plain clothes, he had watched petty officials in black court robes swagger through the streets while commoners scattered before them in terror. Those same officials, however, would grovel and scrape the instant they crossed paths with anyone of rank, wealth, or fine dress.
Yet now he walked these streets in a uniform of the same nature, and the people around him carried on as though he weren't there at all, going about their business as usual.
Well — there were some whose eyes darted away, not daring to look at him.
Shit — someone pissing in the street!
Li Xuanji moved on instinct, striding over.
"That's a fine!"
"Sir, sir, I'm sorry — I just got here, I didn't know—"
"Identity card, now. Otherwise I'm blowing the whistle."
A few bystanders nearby grinned and watched with amusement. One man called out, "That corner's pretty dark — people are always pissing there. Walk back and forth and the whole stretch reeks."
"I bet this isn't his first time. How about it, officer — confiscate the instrument of the crime?"
"Right — seize the offending tool! Ha ha!"
It was all in jest, of course. But Li Xuanji found himself laughing along with the rest of them.
He imitated his colleague's routine, pulling out the palm-sized notepad he had just been issued, along with an oil-ink pen. He still remembered what to write: reason for the penalty — public urination; location — the number of the nearest street or building, in this case Jinyi Street, No. 138; time of the infraction — approximate was fine; then the nine-digit identity number. Tear off the copy for the offender, keep the carbon for yourself.
The trouble was, he could barely recognize simplified characters — and only some of them at that — let alone write them. He fell back on traditional script, and with the unfamiliar pen gripped awkwardly in his hand, it took him several times as long as it would have taken his colleague — and he still wasn't done.
By now the man he'd caught in the act was visibly impatient. "Can I just hand you the money? Did you never go to primary school?"
"Yeah — looking at that handwriting, you definitely never went to primary school. How did you even get into the security corps? Did you pull strings to get in?"
"Tell you what — don't fine me, I won't report you, and we'll call it even. How's that?"
The onlookers would have none of it. One called out, "What the hell — someone got in through connections? I'm going straight to the Lord to report this!"
Li Xuanji stood there bewildered. Were the people here really this eager to get involved? Were they truly that unafraid of his black uniform?
"Hey — what's going on here?" Another figure in black approached; Li Xuanji vaguely recognized him as someone from the office.
The man listened to a quick summary of events, then waved his hand. "Alright, break it up. This is my colleague — he just started today. What's this about pulling strings? Didn't the security office announcement say it clearly? Priority consideration — never said you had to be a graduate. What else do you want to say? You've got a hell of a lot of opinions, don't you?" He turned to the would-be complainant. "Fine, you want to report me? Go right ahead. Here — let me give you my number. Knock yourself out."
After the matter was sorted, Li Xuanji thanked his colleague and made a mental note of the phrase everyone kept mentioning: primary school graduation.
He walked back to his lodgings.
It was a three-story building. Looking along the facade, doors appeared every few meters. This was an apartment block — every unit identical, each room barely a dozen or so square meters. Enough for a bed, a table, and a few chairs, with little floor space left over. No cooking allowed; the toilets were communal, located at either end of each floor and in the middle. Suited for one or two people on a short-term let. Unremarkable in every way, but cheap — roughly two mao a day.
He reached his door, was about to fish out his key, and noticed it wasn't fully locked.
He pushed it open and found Lin Zhenghui sitting in one of the chairs, staring at nothing — the father of Lin Xuejin, our Governor of Jiangxi.
"Your Majesty — you're back!"
"Mm. I've already said: I'm done being emperor."
Li Xuanji paused to think, then, recalling how his colleague had greeted a superior that day, clasped his hands and gave a slight bow. "Li Xuanji pays his respects to Governor Lin."
Watching his sovereign so plainly resolved to throw down the mantle and walk away, Lin Zhenghui felt his breathing grow unsteady, his head faintly light.
"No rush, no rush. Your Majesty is already much improved — at least there's been no more talk of becoming a monk. We'll take it slowly, slowly…"
"Hm? Why is the door open? Cousin—" Jinyuan came breezing in with Mingwu, a bright smile on her face. But the moment her eyes landed on Lin Zhenghui's old, weathered face, that blooming expression vanished at once. She let out a sharp, deliberate *hmph*.