16 Selling Official Positions

“Master, that thing you mentioned—I just have a bad feeling about it.”

“I’m hesitant too. The key is that Wencai is still too young. If he were a few years older, I’d feel more at ease.”

“Yes, but I still wonder how the court could be involved in such a transaction.”

“I’ve told you twice already—it’s not the court. The money is going to Elder Yan’s family.”

“Does Elder Yan’s family really need those two hundred taels of silver?”

Wei Guangde had been practicing calligraphy all night, writing several sheets. He felt his handwriting had improved.

Stepping out of the room into the courtyard to stretch, he faintly overheard his parents talking inside. Curious, he quietly crept to the window to eavesdrop.

It was deep into the night, and the courtyard was silent.

Although he missed the beginning of the conversation, from the snippets he caught, Wei Guangde roughly understood the matter.

Two hundred taels, sent to Elder Yan’s family, and this would help his father get promoted—that was essentially buying an official title.

As for what kind of official rank two hundred taels could procure, or what position his father desired, the brief exchange left Wei Guangde still puzzled.

From what he had heard before, it seemed his father wanted a promotion but was reluctant to give up his current post at the Bengshan Hundred House, hoping his elder brother could inherit that position.

However, his elder brother was only sixteen, and inheriting an official post at that age seemed difficult.

The old couple continued talking for a while, but Wei Guangde sensed his father was still wavering.

During their recent stay in Zhenjiang, someone had approached his father to offer a promotion by one rank.

Having served twenty years at the Bengshan Hundred House, his father naturally wanted the chance for advancement.

Two hundred taels wasn’t much for a thousand-household official’s position, but there was a catch: the position had to be vacant. In other words, giving the money didn’t guarantee which thousand-household post would be assigned.

His father wanted the promotion but was unwilling to leave the prized post at Bengshan.

Normally, even without effort, the post earned over a hundred taels a year. So he hoped to rise in rank while having his eldest son inherit the current post.

As for internal promotions within the Jiujiang Guard, his father had long given up hope.

The official positions within the Jiujiang Guard were lucrative vacancies. Aside from the hundred-household posts below, any higher posts that opened were filled by outsiders parachuted in, making internal promotion impossible.

The conversation in the house ended quickly, seemingly without resolution.

Wei Guangde guessed his father hadn’t abandoned the idea but had too many concerns and was temporarily holding back.

After eavesdropping until his legs went numb, Wei Guangde quietly left the window and returned to the courtyard, casually stretching his legs and swinging his fists.

Coming from a military household, his family had no inherited martial arts secrets, but they had battlefield combat skills—straightforward, bold, and forceful techniques.

To be honest, Wei Guangde doubted such boxing could really strengthen the body; it was only useful in battlefield clashes.

Although he didn’t plan to excel at this style, it was good enough for relieving fatigue and loosening muscles.

After stretching, noticing the late hour, Wei Guangde returned indoors to rest. Upon entering, he saw a matchlock gun hung on the wall, with a medicine pot resting on a wooden table against the wall below.

After the recent gun trial, although Wei Guangde thought the matchlock had many flaws and was incomparable to future firearms, hearing his elder brother and Zhang Ji gush over it, and considering how centuries separated this weapon from those later guns, he had to admit the matchlock was the sharpest military technology of this era.

The two matchlocks taken out were kept by Wei Wencai and Wei Guangde respectively.

Though slower than bows and arrows, the matchlock’s power was impressive.

During the trial, although neither Wei Guangde nor Wei Wencai hit the target, Tang Sanwa managed two precise shots, knocking down two small birds, proving the matchlock’s name was well-earned.

This piqued Wei Wencai’s interest; he decided to keep one for further study.

Children raised in military families were naturally enthusiastic about weapons, especially new types.

Although they looked down on firearms, as his father said, well-made guns were popular among soldiers.

Moreover, firearm training was simple; recruits could become proficient within half a month.

Using firearms also avoided face-to-face combat, requiring less courage and killing skill, making them ideal for rapid army formation.

The current Ming soldiers’ dislike of firearms was mainly due to the Arsenal’s shoddy workmanship and cost-cutting, which was deadly.

Wei Guangde didn’t reach for the matchlock on the wall.

For a boy around ten, the matchlock was still heavy.

The matchlocks produced during the Jiajing reign resembled rifles seen in later eras, and online news showed similar muskets seized in mountainous regions.

In later times, which boy didn’t like guns?

The night passed quietly.

At dawn, Wei Guangde woke and followed his routine to brush his teeth and wash his face. Although toothpaste didn’t exist, they used toothbrushes dipped in salt and rinsed afterward.

Toothbrushes were already common—wooden sticks with pig bristles, inexpensive to make.

There were also herbal pastes similar to toothpaste, but Wei Guangde’s family certainly couldn’t afford those.

After breakfast, he took a few coins from Mrs. Wei and set off for school.

Though Wei Guangde had money himself, he inherited the habit of relying on his mother.

Under his bed was a box containing several hundred copper coins saved by his previous self.

He understood that perhaps his former self knew the main family estate would likely pass to his eldest brother, despite all being legitimate sons; age hierarchy mattered. So he quietly saved money.

Now, Wei Guangde had no way to save money himself, so he spent what he had and never touched the old savings.

At school, he sat down and began reading as usual.

The morning passed quickly. After lunch, a few students rested in the corridor.

“Master Sun is so rigid. He could easily allow students to rest their heads on desks during breaks,” Wei Guangde thought, feeling frustrated but knowing Master Sun would never agree.

School was a place for study.

During this rest period, the Taoist priest who had visited the teacher yesterday appeared in the front courtyard, silently watching the resting youths.