Rubbing his throbbing temples, Zhen Gui surveyed the villagers crowding his yard. There were barely eight of t…
Rubbing his throbbing temples, Zhen Gui surveyed the villagers crowding his yard. There were barely eight of them, yet they kicked up a racket fit for a hundred, chirping and squawking like a flock of startled sparrows.
"Lord Zhen, you gotta give us justice! My husband's third-uncle-in-law's second-cousin-twice-removed... well, that man went and stewed my best laying hen! Said he'd pay me back with a wooden eagle, but I haven't seen a splinter of it!"
They were treating him like some legendary magistrate, coming to him to settle their petty squabbles.
"Lord Zhen, you said you were done with this old plank, right? The wind is howling right through my shack, and I desperately need a patch..."
Wonderful. This one was just here to scavenge.
"Lord Zhen, that medicine you helped me get last time didn't work so well. Look, my leg is still limping!"
Great. This one was at the wrong door entirely.
The villagers' complaints and pleas poured out in a chaotic, endless stream. Zhen Gui's fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the peeling wooden table. He grunted the occasional hum to keep them going, but his gaze had long since slipped out the window, glued to the setting sun.
Three, two, one. Zhen Gui counted the heartbeats in his head.
Who would have thought his life would tumble into this godforsaken wilderness? His old passion had cooled to ash, leaving him with nothing but the strange talent of counting sunsets down to the second. Surely, that counted as a blessing in disguise.
The moment the sun dipped behind the mountain, Zhen Gui sprang to his feet. "Sun's down! I'm officially off the clock. Go on home, folks! Hey, you! Leave that plank alone! Can't you see the characters for 'Bureau of Relief' carved right there?"
"Bureau of Beef? Now that's a fine name! Lad, go tell your mother to stop messing with that ox. We'll just come here to borrow our beef from now on!" The villagers mumbled, wandering off with satisfied grins.
Bureau of Beef? What absolute nonsense. It was the Bureau of Relief, a place meant to solve the troubles that ordinary people could not. Zhen Gui climbed up a ladder, preparing to nail the wooden sign he had just snatched back from the villager.
If he had known he would end up rotting in this mountain crevice, why did his younger self ever work so hard? It was a mistake. A huge mistake.
All that talk about how the Special Office of Hidden Mountain needed a seasoned veteran to hold the fort. They told him that although Zhen Gui lacked mechanical ingenuity, his keen eye for detail and relentless pursuit of the truth were exactly what these wilds required. And where were the cases? Just endless trivial chores and zero resources. No manpower, no funding. He even had to carve the signboard himself.
And the people here... they simply lacked any sense of reason.
No matter how many times he corrected them, they still called him "Lord" as if he were truly some high dignitary. In reality, he was just a middle-aged head constable who had dug too deep into a major case, made enemies everywhere, and was forced to change his name and flee just to keep his head attached to his neck.
What a cruel irony. He had spent his entire life seeking justice for others, yet his own grievances had to remain buried forever in his heart. Enough of that. Had a certain someone not recommended him to Hidden Mountain, his head would be hanging from a city gate by now.
As his mind wandered, a stray splinter from the rough wood jabbed sharply into his index finger. A faint, throbbing ache followed.
I'm done with it! No more meddling! I won't lift a finger for anything ever again! Not the big cases, and certainly not the small ones!
Zhen Gui hammered the board home with a spiteful thud. From this day forth, he swore to be like those slippery, corrupt officials who never let a conscience trouble them. If the sky falls, let the tall men catch it. Let the petty trifles slide. As for the rest of the mess, if you stall long enough, it will simply rot away on its own.
Smart! That was the way. Half a lifetime of exhaustion was more than enough. Tomorrow, he would sleep until the sun burned his backside!
...
Night fell, bringing a chill mountain breeze. With the lamp lit, Zhen Gui held up his hand, grimacing as he tried to pry out the offending splinter. Suddenly, a faint rustle stirred outside the window.
He knew someone was out there. He always knew. Hmph. Ever since he had crawled into this forgotten corner, he had not enjoyed a single night of peace. There were no grand cases here, only endless family drama. God knows whose ancient history he would have to endure until midnight this time.
He swung the door open, only to find a few children nudging and shoving one another, creeping forward with timid steps.
"L-Lord Zhen... my dad asked me to bring you this... medicine oil. He saw you rubbing your forehead this afternoon, and said this works great for headaches..." The boy at the front spoke in a voice smaller than a mosquito's.
A night breeze drifted past, carrying the raw, herbal scent of the oil into the quiet mountain darkness.
Zhen Gui froze. He reached out and accepted the crude earthenware bottle, then turned back inside to fetch his oil lamp for the children.
Standing at the threshold, he watched that tiny speck of light sway and bob until the vast night finally swallowed it whole. Right then, a few birds called out nearby.
Zhen Gui looked up. Beneath the crumbling edge of the eaves, a new nest had appeared. It was small, yet firmly nestled against the wooden beam.
Strange. He could have sworn the hot blood in his chest had long since turned to ash...
Yet at this very moment, why did that old, familiar warmth come flooding back?
Fine. Perhaps he could tolerate this Bureau of Relief for a few more days. Just a few.