HNYWEF -Chapter 147 Occupational Habit Acting Up

It was three quarters past the hour of the Snake (around 9:45 a.m.).

The gate of the Ministry of Works was taller than expected. Blue bricks, grey tiles, and above the entrance hung a plaque reading “Directorate of Imperial Workshops.” The ink was fresh, the lacquer still shining.

Zhou Xiong stood at the entrance and looked up.

Cheng Yaojin stood beside him but did not go in.

“You go in yourself. I won’t join the fun.”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Cheng Yaojin looked at him, opened his mouth as if to say something, then swallowed it back.

He patted Zhou Xiong on the shoulder.

“Let’s drink tonight.”

Then he turned and left.

Zhou Xiong stood there, watching his back disappear at the corner of the street.

Then he turned and stepped over the threshold.

He walked inside.

Beyond the gate was a courtyard. Several officials stood there in official robes. When they saw him enter, they all froze for a moment.

Then they reacted and quickly bowed.

“Lord Marquis Zhou.”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“Where is the Administrative Hall?”

One of them pointed deeper inside.

“Go straight ahead, through that moon gate, turn right. The third room is it.”

Zhou Xiong thanked him and continued walking.

Through the moon gate, then right, third room.

The door was open.

The room was full of people.

Zhou Xiong stood at the doorway and glanced inside.

All of them were officials—old and young, tall and short—packed tightly into the room. Some were even secretly sizing him up.

His gaze swept across their faces and landed on a man at the very back.

That man stood behind a long desk, holding a document and reading it.

Zhou Xiong assumed he was the head official here.

He walked forward.

The officials in the room instinctively stepped aside, forming a path.

He reached the long desk and stopped.

The man looked up at him.

Zhou Xiong looked back.

Then Zhou Xiong moved.

He bent down.

Deeply.

Almost a full 180 degrees.

His forehead nearly touched his knees.

The room instantly fell silent.

The supervising official froze, the document almost slipping from his hands.

He hurriedly threw the document aside, came around the desk, and grabbed Zhou Xiong’s arm.

“Your Lordship! Absolutely not!”

He helped him up, his face full of panic.

“We are of equal rank. How could I accept such a grand bow?”

Zhou Xiong stood straight and looked at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m late.”

The supervisor opened his mouth.

He looked at Zhou Xiong’s face—an expressionless face.

He paused.

Then quickly withdrew his gaze and forced a smile.

“You are too serious, my lord. It is only the first day. There is no such thing as being late.”

He stepped back and cupped his hands.

“I am Yan Lide, sent by imperial order to receive Your Lordship. If you need anything in the Directorate of Imperial Workshops in the future, just give the word.”

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

Yan Lide.

He had heard this name before.

The elder brother of Yan Liben, skilled in painting and architecture, an official of the Ministry of Works.

At present, he was also a Deputy Director of Imperial Workshops—indeed of equal rank.

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“Director Yan.”

Yan Lide smiled and pointed to the side.

“Your Lordship, your desk is over there. We’ve already had someone prepare it. Please see if anything is missing.”

Zhou Xiong followed his finger.

Near the window stood a long desk. On it were brush, ink, paper, inkstone, a teacup, and a candle holder—neatly arranged.

He withdrew his gaze and looked at Yan Lide.

“Alright.”

Just one word.

He walked toward the desk.

Behind him, the officials of the Ministry of Works began whispering among themselves.

Their voices were very low, but the room was too quiet. The faint murmurs still drifted into his ears.

“Did you see that? That bow just now…”

“That’s not how equals should salute. That’s a subordinate greeting a superior…”

“Wasn’t there a rumor the Marquis was suffering from some kind of madness?”

“Hush! Keep your voice down!”

Zhou Xiong reached the desk and stopped.

He heard everything.

Fragmented voices, slipping into his ears.

But his face showed nothing.

He sat down in the chair.

Looked at the blank sheets of paper, the brush resting on the inkstone, the steaming cup of tea.

Sunlight streamed through the window and fell on him.

He sat there, motionless.

Behind him, the whispers continued.

“Mental illness… seems it’s not unfounded…”

“There were already rumors in the Ministry of Rites…”

“And the Emperor still sent him here…”

Zhou Xiong placed his hands on his knees, unmoving.

He looked out the window.

Outside was a courtyard. A tree stood there, its leaves long gone, bare branches reaching toward a grey, overcast sky.

He stared for a long time.

Yan Lide walked over and stood beside him.

“My lord.”

Zhou Xiong did not move.

Yan Lide waited a moment.

Then called again.

“My lord?”

Zhou Xiong finally turned his head to look at him.

Yan Lide wore a smile—something hidden within that smile.

“My lord, don’t take those words to heart. People in the Ministry of Works are talkative, but not malicious. You’ll understand after staying here a while.”

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

Two seconds passed.

Then he nodded.

“Mm.”

Just one word.

He turned back and continued looking out the window.

Yan Lide stood there, his smile freezing for a moment.

He glanced at Zhou Xiong’s profile, then at the whispering officials in the room.

He sighed.

And said nothing more.

He turned and left.

The murmurs in the room slowly quieted.

Eventually, they faded completely.

Only the wind outside the window remained, occasionally brushing past with a soft rustling sound.