K.J.Clay
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Chapter 15 - Bureaucratic Hell
🕑 Added 2024-07-29 00:00:02 +0000 UTCIt wasn’t a joke.
There were a lot of things he missed from the Before. The internet was highly underrated, electricity was a marvel he hadn’t appreciated enough when he had it, and he could hardly even bear to think about hot showers for fear of spiralling into depression.
One thing he hadn’t missed was all the paperwork. It seemed like an inevitable step along the path of civilisation for any given group of people to quickly find ways to bury each other in mountains of superfluous minutia. As far as he was concerned it was one of the few redeeming aspects of suddenly finding himself living in a pre-industrial society.
Little did he know that the only reason he had escaped the terrible grasp of bureaucracies was that they had all decided to congregate in the cities.
Becoming an apprentice – an official apprentice, at least – was not merely a matter of meeting a prospective teacher standards and agreeing to learn from him, not at all. Instead, it required navigating a convoluted process that seemed designed to test not only the patience but the will to live of anyone who dared approach it.
First, there was the ordeal of obtaining a myriad of forms, each one somehow more complicated and less useful than the last. These forms demanded the same information repeatedly, almost like they expected his name to have suddenly changed from the last five times he had written it down. By the end of it, his hands were so stained with ink it looked like he had gotten tattoos.
Then came the endless waiting in stuffy rooms, punctuated by the occasional indifferent clerk who seemed to delight in finding the slightest error, ensuring another trip to the back of the line.
Verification involved another round of scrutiny and stamps in a different office, where the clerks’ lethargy suggested that speed was a concept lost to time.
The whole process could take days or even weeks, depending on the efficiency of the offices and the alignment of the stars. Zhujiao couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer inefficiency of it all.
Finally, almost begrudgingly, the clerks decided he had filled everything out correctly.
He didn’t know where Lao Yi had been the entire time, but he was praying that the old man had been subjected to a similar level of inefficiency. Misery shared was misery halved, after all.
Zhujiao pushed open the door to the clinic, the crisp papers of his official apprenticeship clutched tightly in his hand. The dim interior was filled with the familiar scents of herbs and medicine, a comforting contrast to the stale air of the Registrar’s Office. His relief at being back was tempered by a simmering frustration that threatened to boil over.
As he stepped further inside, his eyes fell on Lao Yi, reclining in a worn wooden chair, a serene expression on his face as he snored softly. The sight of his master napping peacefully while he had endured the bureaucratic nightmare was almost more than Zhujiao could bear.
“Lao Yi!” he called, trying to keep his voice level. The old man stirred slightly but did not wake. Zhujiao took a deep breath and called again, louder this time. “Lao Yi!”
Lao Yi blinked awake, stretching leisurely before turning a sleepy gaze on Zhujiao. “Ah, Zhujiao, you’re back. Where have you been all this time?” he asked innocently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Zhujiao stared at him, momentarily speechless. He felt his face flush with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “Where have I been? I’ve been navigating the ninth circle of bureaucratic hell, that’s where! Forms, lines, clerks, more forms! And you—” He waved the papers in the air, his voice rising with each word. “You’ve been here napping?”
Lao Yi’s smile widened, and he chuckled softly. “Bureaucracy can be quite the ordeal, can’t it? I remember my own apprenticeship registration. It’s a rite of passage, you see.”
Zhujiao spluttered.
Lao Yi stood, still chuckling, and patted Zhujiao on the shoulder. “And you passed, which means you’re officially my apprentice now. Congratulations.”
Zhujiao took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Think nothing of it,” the old man waved a hand dismissively. “Now then, onto the more important things. Firstly, no apprentice of mine will be wearing filthy rags like yours.”
Zhujiao flushed in shame. He had somewhat gotten used to the state of his clothing, but that didn’t mean he was happy with it. The children at the orphanage were responsible for taking care of their own clothes, which generally wouldn’t have been a problem for him. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter that he had the knowledge and skills of an adult when all of his spare clothes were stolen.
There was only so much washing that could be done before his single cheap outfit started to simply wear through.
“Uh, Master, I’m afraid that nice things don’t tend to last very long at the orphanage. If I get some nicer clothes some of the other children will just steal them as soon as I turn my back.”
Lao Yi’s expression turned thoughtful. “Hmm, that won’t do at all. If your clothes are stolen, we’ll simply have to find a way to ensure they aren’t.” He paused, rubbing his chin. “I suppose it’s time we moved you into the paid dormitories early.”
Zhujiao blinked in surprise. “The dormitories? I thought I had to wait a year before I could move into them. Besides, I… can’t afford that.” He frowned for a moment, suddenly realising that he had never actually asked exactly how much it cost. “At least, I don’t think I can afford to,” he amended.
“Come now, apprentice, are you telling me you filled out all of those forms without paying attention to what they said?”
Zhujiao shifted uncomfortably.
“Apparently so,” Lao Yi remarked dryly. “To summarise then, as your master, I have a certain amount of responsibility for your wellbeing. I am expected to ensure that you have adequate housing, food, and clothing. Nothing extravagant, mind, but at least the basics. I’m sure this old man can afford to pay for a single student to move into the dormitories early.”
Lao Yi paused for a moment before smirking. “Not to mention that the lovely Madame Liu is sure to give me a… discount.”
Zhujiao winced at the amount of innuendo the old man had managed to pack into the last word. That was a mental image he really didn’t need.
Still, this was far better than he could have hoped for. Having his accommodation, food, and clothing paid for meant that even if his actual wage was a pittance, as long as he was careful he should be able to start actually saving money. It was something of a background stress – he was acutely aware of how quickly circumstances could change, and even though money didn’t solve every problem it could certainly solve most of his problems.
“Thank you, Master. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t think this is charity, young man. I fully expect you to work hard enough to make up for this investment!”
The words were mercenary, but the twinkle in the old man’s eyes was gentle and warm. He was so annoying most of the time that Zhujiao occasionally forgot that Lao Yi chose to work in the slums, he wasn’t forced into it. He could be making a fortune working for one of the more affluent families, but instead, he toiled day in and day out to help the poor and disenfranchised.
“I will strive to be worthy of it, Master,” Zhujiao affirmed, bowing his head slightly in respect.
Lao Yi mumbled something about that not being needed, but he couldn’t hide the pleased gleam in his eye. “I’m sure you will, boy. Now, off you go. Get yourself settled and return here in the morning, ready to work. We have much to do, and I expect you to be prepared.”
Zhujiao stood outside the door to his shared room at something of a loss. He had returned here mostly on autopilot, and it was only just occurring to him that… there was nothing for him here.
He didn’t even have a blanket or pillow to pick up.
The realisation was sobering. He’d never been the most social of people – not in the Before and certainly not in the village, but this was rather extreme even by his standards.
Lao Yi was literally the only person he interacted with on a regular basis. That was… really sad, now that he thought about it.
He was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of the door creaking open. His roommates, Wen and Kai, stepped out, their expressions immediately shifting from curiosity to a flat sort of irritation when they saw him.
He’d managed to reach a sort of wary equilibrium with his roommates – they still stole all of his stuff, but they didn’t actually bother him beyond that. It was hardly ideal from his perspective, but while he could easily use his cultivation to beat them up or something, that wasn’t the sort of person he wanted to be.
Not to mention he’d honestly just… been too busy to really bother with them, more concerned about dealing with Lao Yi’s latest attempt at humour to worry about what were ultimately just annoyances.
It wasn’t like he needed a blanket or anything, and even the bare timber of the bed frame was comfortable enough to sleep on once he got used to it. There were many advantages to being a cultivator, after all.
If anything, his lack of response had seemed to annoy them further, but never enough for them to do anything about it.
“What are you doing just standing there?” Wen snapped, his eyes narrowing.
Zhujiao shifted uncomfortably. “I… I was just thinking.”
“Thinking about how you’re getting out of here, huh?” Wen’s tone was accusatory, his irritation evident. “Must be nice to have someone like Lao Yi to take care of you.”
Kai folded his arms, his expression hardening. “Yeah, some of us don’t have old masters looking out for us. We have to fend for ourselves.”
A flicker of irritation stirred in his gut, and he was responding before he could think better of it.
“Oh yeah, such hardship stealing all of my stuff. I can’t imagine how tough it’s been with two pillows and blankets.” He swept into a mocking bow. “My deepest condolences to you both.”
Kai’s eyes flashed with anger and bitterness as he sneered. “We’ve been here longer than you, and we worked harder than you ever did. You didn’t deserve to just walk in and be handed everything on a platter.”
Zhujiao bit back a snarl, somewhat surprised at the strength of his emotions. Apparently, he wasn’t as okay with the situation as he had thought.
It wasn’t until Wen took a wary step back that he realised his hands were clenched into fists at his side. The temptation to reach out and force them to apologise, to admit they were wrong was almost overwhelming.
But no.
At the end of the day, they were a bunch of petty kids. He had better things to do with his time.
He spun on his heel and marched towards Madame Liu’s office, ignoring the jeers behind him. If nothing else, the confrontation had knocked him out of his previous funk.
So what if he didn’t have much in the way of connections right now? He had a job – a good one, at that. He was moving into better accomodations, where he would hopefully be safe from having his stuff stolen all the time. He would be earning money and learning a highly prized skill, the ticket to real independence.
Connections would come with time, and more than ever, he was reminded that for all of his maturity, he was physically a little under twelve right now. Any friendships he could realistically make would be with, well, children.
No, better to focus on his studies right now. Though, that did raise the question… why was Lao Yi willing to do so much for a twelve-year-old? To the old man, he should have appeared to be a particularly mature or precocious child – and kind nature or not, an apprenticeship wasn’t something to offer on a whim.
Not to mention the old man’s unusual ability to procure as many herbs and regents as he needed despite there being almost no way he was earning enough to pay for it all. Healers in general might earn a lot, but Lao Yi’s clients were living in the slums – even those that could afford to pay at all would be paying a pittance.
He forced the thoughts from his mind, reminding himself that he should be grateful for the opportunities he had been given, even if they came with strings attached. He had enough to deal with without inventing problems.
Besides, what were the odds he was unlucky enough to be part of some grand conspiracy?
