Liu San arrived late at night carrying his bedding roll on his back.
He dropped to his knees the instant he stepped through the gate.
“Young Master!
I cannot stay in the main manor any longer!
Liu‑shi regained authority, and the first thing she did was assign me to curry horses in the stable.
After currying horses she would ‘talk’ to me, pressing for every piece of news I passed to you… I only told the truth, yet she wants to dock three months of my wages!”
Shen Xian hauled him to his feet.
“Foolish man.
Why answer every question she asks you?”
“I did answer!
I told her I relayed every question you asked and every reply I gave!
She smashed her teacup in rage…”
“…” Shen Xian patted his shoulder.
“Third Brother Liu, with your wits you are only alive thanks to solid imperial laws.”
Liu San was taken on.
Post: Residence guard‑captain and liaison agent.
Monthly pay one tael‑two mace, food and lodging included.
He swore on the spot to give his life in repayment.
Shen Xian stuffed a chicken drumstick into his mouth to shut him up.
And so the Willow‑Branch Lane residence obtained its core staff: Wangcai handled purchasing (he volunteered to be the yard‑dog, which was rejected); Lai Fu managed the kitchen and odd‑jobs; Liu‑San handled security and errands.
On the day the team expanded, Shen Xian called a meeting in the courtyard.
“Our guiding principles are three‑fold.” Standing in the yard, he painted grand visions for his three subordinates.
“First: lie down whenever possible, do not stand.
Second: resolve problems with words whenever possible, avoid blows.
Third: extra pay applies when blows become necessary.”
Wangcai raised his hand.
“Young Master, what sort of organisation exactly are we?”
“Excellent question.” Shen Xian pondered briefly, chest puffed out.
“Publicly, we are employees of Shen’s Ghost‑Writing Service.
Privately…” He drew himself up proudly.
“We are Qinghe County’s number‑one civilian think‑tank and unofficial constable agency.”
“Matters that officials cannot be bothered with, or dare not touch because they will offend powerful people — we handle those.” Shen Xian spoke gravely.
“Naturally, we charge fees.”
After the meeting Liu San leaned close to Lai Fu and whispered: “Lai Fu, somehow I feel our work is drifting far from mere ghost‑writing.”
“What is it like then?”
“Like… a government yamen.”
“Shhh.” Lai Fu stuffed a dried meat‑strip into his mouth.
“Young Master says this is a civilian think‑tank, superior to the yamen.
The yamen only handle cases.
We handle both cases and human hearts.”
Liu San half‑understood.
He suddenly felt the chicken drumstick in his hand weigh heavier.
For wage‑labourers the worst thing is not heavy work, but having no idea what their work is for.
Give them a grand purpose, and they will move mountains for you.
Shen Xian leaned back in his chair, watching his three subordinates bustling about the yard, and narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
His team had been assembled.