Sheriff King's words were very tactful; what he actually meant was that he was afraid County Magistrate Bolton would notice that he too had taken money from Mr. Thompson, and thus suspect he had some connection with Deputy Thompson. In fact, his acquaintance with Mr. Thompson was entirely due to frequent dealings during grain collection, and he had absolutely no connection with Deputy Thompson. But since he was one of County Magistrate Bolton's people, he had to be cautious about this point.

William Thompson couldn't figure out the various relationships within the Linhuai county yamen, including the stance of the Sheriff King before him. Not daring to ask too much, he changed the subject with a smile: “Second Brother King, I don’t know where I’ll be living, how I’ll eat, or how to report for duty and such. I’ll need your guidance on all these matters.”

Seeing how clever he was, Sheriff King liked him even more. He chuckled and said, “There’s one thing I must tell you first. Though your title is yamen runner, you’re actually a clerk. Yamen runners are servants or hereditary workers, and their status is quite low, but you’re not one of them. You’re a minor clerk in the county, my deputy. I’m in charge of arrests and criminal cases, and you’re in charge of public order in the county seat, preventing trouble from unruly people. Although there is a yamen runner’s dormitory, you can’t live there; you’ll have to find your own place, as long as you report for duty on time every day. As for meals, the yamen provides lunch, but you’re on your own for dinner. Lastly, about your duties: our county yamen has six departments, each with its own clerks and runners, under the county magistrate’s assistant and the registrar. But you and I are directly under the magistrate’s command. County Magistrate Bolton has already assigned you to me, so from now on, just stick with your big brother!”

Suddenly, William Thompson understood his position. This Sheriff King was like the chief of the county public security bureau in modern times, a formal government post, while he himself was the much-maligned head of the city management squad.

……

Today was William Thompson’s first day at work, just reporting for duty, basically just meeting his superiors and getting familiar with the situation, with no specific tasks. After lunch, a yamen runner named Samuel Williams took him to look for a place to live. Along the way, Samuel Williams tried hard to please him, and only then did he gradually learn some secrets that Sheriff King hadn’t told him. His position was originally held by the brother-in-law of Clerk Young, but because he extorted the shops too harshly, Deputy Thompson caught him and reported him to the magistrate, so Clerk Young’s brother-in-law was dismissed. Deputy Thompson wanted to recommend his own nephew to take over, but his nephew was only nineteen, not yet of age. To secure the position, Deputy Thompson temporarily put him in as a stand-in, and could also collect a sum from Mr. Thompson. In other words, he could only be the head of the city management squad for at most half a year; after that, he’d have to pack up and leave, or really become a yamen runner, spending his days holding up signs reading ‘Silence’ and ‘Make Way’ and beating the gong to clear the road.

Although he now saw the darkness of society more clearly, William Thompson didn’t really mind. He had only wanted to use this probationary period to adapt to the Ming Dynasty, and then look for his own opportunity. With six hundred years more experience than the locals, how could he be content to be a lowly city management squad leader without even an official title?

Because of his status, he quickly found a place to live, not far from the yamen, a single courtyard by the river. The landlord was a wealthy merchant who only charged him three hundred wen a month, including one dinner. On his first day in office, William Thompson experienced the bittersweet flavors of life again and again.

As dusk fell, a man who looked like a steward came to find him—his distant second uncle, that is, Deputy Thompson, had invited him to dinner.

……

Deputy Thompson's full name was James Thompson, a licentiate by background, and of course a local. His family was well-off, and he seemed to have some distant kinship with William Thompson's family, though even they couldn’t say exactly what the relationship was. But as the saying goes, “the rich have distant relatives even in deep mountains.” Since he had become the county assistant, Mr. Thompson was naturally happy to know this distant clansman.

Perhaps due to his position, Deputy Thompson always cared a lot about money. In other words, this dinner he was hosting was the first time in three years he’d spent money to treat someone. In his own words, it was to catch up with his distant nephew and talk about the way of being an official.

Since it was among family, Deputy Thompson’s hospitality was very frugal: a plate of stir-fried bean sprouts, a plate of stir-fried greens, a bowl of stewed radish, and a bowl of tofu boiled in plain water. Of course, the soup in the “four dishes and one soup” couldn’t be left out—a big pot of clear broth with a single green onion, grandly named “Green Dragon Crossing the River.” As for drinks, Deputy Thompson said his health was poor and the doctor had repeatedly told him not to drink, so they had two cups of tea instead, using tea in place of wine—a kind of elegance, perhaps!

“Sigh! The salaries of our Ming officials are so meager, I’m sorry for the poor hospitality, dear nephew, please don’t mind.” Deputy Thompson sighed, picked up a piece of tofu and put it in his mouth, mumbling, “If we don’t economize, we’ll really be left with nothing but the northwest wind to drink.”

Although Deputy Thompson was indeed a bit stingy, William Thompson didn’t mind much. He wasn’t really there for the food, after all. The man had given him a cushy job; even if there was some element of using him, he had still done his father a big favor. A favor owed should be repaid—that’s only right. Looking further ahead, Deputy Thompson was a high official in the county, and though he would eventually strike out on his own, he still needed to leave his father some connections.

William Thompson smiled, and quietly slipped an envelope containing one hundred strings of cash under the bowl of boiled tofu. He then raised his teacup and sincerely complimented, “Second Uncle, your reputation for integrity is well known; I’ve heard of it long ago, and now that I’ve met you, it’s truly deserved. Come! I toast you, Second Uncle.”