“So much to do.” As soon as this was mentioned, Henry Cooper’s face lit up with excitement: “Once you enter the garrison, there are basically four things you can do. First, you can join the Records Office, handling all the paperwork and correspondence within the garrison—in plain terms, you become a clerk! Of course, that’s not what we’re here for. Second, you can go to the Northern Investigative Office, just like the two of us, and become an imperial guard. Look at us here in the capital, so impressive that everyone has to look up to us.”

Respect?

James Bolton thought to himself, it’s more like fear, isn’t it?

Henry Cooper continued, “Being an imperial guard is a cushy job—not only is it prestigious, but there are plenty of perks. Look at these merchants, which one doesn’t try to slip us a little ‘tea money’?”

“Corruption?” James Bolton couldn’t help but say.

Edward Smith glared at him and emphasized, “Tea money is just their way of showing appreciation for our hard work patrolling the streets.”

“Oh.” James Bolton nodded. “Got it, so you don’t have to pay for eating melon.”

Edward Smith wanted to argue, but after a long silence, he seemed to find it quite fitting, and then said, “Of course, it’s not just the imperial guards who have it good. Next, you can work in the Southern Investigative Office’s imperial prison. That’s where our foster father is now. On the surface, a garrison officer in the imperial prison is just a jailer, but think about it—anyone locked up in the imperial prison is either rich or powerful. To get a little extra care from the officers, they’re willing to spend as much silver as it takes. So, even though guarding the imperial prison is dull, the perks are even greater.”

In his heart, James Bolton silently thought, this Ming Dynasty is hopeless—military officers only care about money.

He sighed inwardly, but couldn’t help wanting to hear more: “And what else?”

“What else?” Henry Cooper coughed, and his expression turned sour. “The worst job in the garrison is called ‘Great Han General.’”

Great Han General…

That name actually sounds quite impressive!

But Henry Cooper said with disdain, “The title may sound grand, but in reality, it just means being an attendant to His Majesty. After all, the garrison is the emperor’s personal guard, so some of us have to serve in the palace. These so-called Great Han Generals may get to enter the palace and see the emperor at any time, but think about it—outside the palace, people are afraid of the garrison, even ministers have to show respect. But inside the palace, you’re surrounded by the emperor, nobles, and eunuchs—the lowest of whom are still eunuchs. Which of these people can the garrison afford to offend? And the guard duty is grueling—like standing posts all day, no talking, no whispering, even moving around is strictly forbidden. Tell me, is that a job for a human being?”

Edward Smith chimed in, “Exactly. So it’s best to become an imperial guard, second best to work in the imperial prison, but you should never become a Great Han General.”

While they were talking, James Bolton had already finished a cup of tea and eaten a pastry. He knew that his two sworn brothers were warning and advising him in advance, afraid he’d take the wrong path.

But…

What should he do with his future?

Suddenly, a thought popped into his mind.

“Why are you so quiet? I’m talking to you.” Edward Smith glared at James Bolton. “What kind of job do you actually want?”

James Bolton grinned. “I know, I know, let me think about it some more.”

Edward Smith, having rested enough, stood up and said, “Let’s go, time to head home.”

Right after, Edward Smith called out, “Shopkeeper.”

The tea stall attendant hurried over on tiptoe. In fact, while the three of them had been sitting there, business at the tea stall had plummeted. Just a moment ago, the place was packed, but in the blink of an eye, all the customers had settled their bills and left, and no new passersby came to drink tea. The stall now looked deserted.

Edward Smith raised his nose and said, “We’ve finished our tea.”

The attendant, looking like he understood perfectly, quickly pulled out a handful of coins from his sleeve and stuffed them into Edward Smith’s sleeve, saying, “Yes, yes, thank you, sirs, for your hard work. Here’s some tea money, please accept it.”

James Bolton stared in amazement. So this is how the garrison drinks tea…

Damn, this is way better than living off a woman.

You earn money just by standing here.

It was a complicated feeling. He could sense the attendant’s desperate will to survive. From his own perspective, this feeling of being feared and respected was strangely satisfying. This was something a project manager in modern times could never experience. Even in his previous life, when he led a big team, the kind of power trip triggered by the attendant’s groveling was a completely different sensation.

Just as Edward Smith was about to accept the money as a matter of course—

James Bolton suddenly stepped forward and said, “What tea money? Shouldn’t we be the ones paying you? We drank your tea, so of course we should pay.”

As he spoke, he took a few coins from his sleeve and pressed them into the attendant’s hand.

Edward Smith and Henry Cooper looked at James Bolton with a strange expression.

Truly a hopeless case.

You pay the shop for tea?

And you still call yourself a garrison officer’s son?

Chapter Eight: Memorial Report

But Edward Smith and Henry Cooper didn’t stop him. Instead, they watched the whole thing with half-smiles.

James Bolton pressed the money into the attendant’s hand.

He thought that after paying, they could just leave.

Who would have thought, the attendant’s face suddenly changed.