The news of Kenji's promotion spread through the servant's quarters like a plague. There was no formal announcement in a grand hall, but something far more effective and humiliating: Matriarch Feng herself appeared in the service courtyard the next morning, just as the insipid rice gruel for breakfast was being distributed.
Silence fell like a guillotine. The slurping and murmuring ceased. Even the steam rising from the bowls seemed to freeze in the cold dawn air.
"As of today," Matriarch Feng announced, her sharp voice sweeping over the bewildered crowd of servants, "Kenji, formerly of the cleaning staff, will assume the temporary position of Operational Efficiency Analyst."
A collective murmur went through the crowd. Analyst of what? It sounded like a made-up disease.
"He will have the authority to restructure workflows in the laundry and the kitchens," Feng continued, her hawk-like eyes fixed on the crowd, daring anyone to show disagreement. "His directives are to be obeyed as if they came from me. Lao Wang, you will oversee his implementation. Is that clear?"
Lao Wang, standing beside her, looked as though he had just swallowed a toad. He nodded stiffly, a single jerk of his head.
"Crystal, Matriarch."
Feng swept the courtyard with one last icy glare, one that promised swift and efficient pain to the insubordinate. Then she departed, her figure vanishing like a stern ghost.
For a moment, the silence held. Then, the dam broke. All eyes turned to Kenji, who remained standing beside Lao Wang, his bowl of gruel in hand and an expression as neutral as a stone. The looks were not of admiration. They were a toxic mix of disbelief, resentment, and pure contempt.
Xiong, the burly thug whose petty reign of terror was built on brute force, was the first to react. He let out a dry, mocking laugh.
"Efficiency Analyst?" he crowed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "What are you going to analyze, brainiac? The most efficient way for us to beat you to a pulp?"
A few of his cronies laughed with him. Kenji didn't even look at him. He simply finished his gruel with methodical slowness. To him, resistance wasn't an insult. It was a predictable variable.
Situation Analysis: The existing informal power structure, based on physical intimidation (Xiong), perceives the new structure, based on meritocratic authority (me), as a direct threat. Active resistance is expected. Recommended Protocol: Do not engage the emotion, but rather demonstrate the system's superiority through quantifiable results.
"Your first day, Analyst," Lao Wang said in a low voice, a hint of panic in it. "What… what do we do?"
"We will proceed with Phase One of implementation in the Laundry Pavilion," Kenji replied, as if discussing the weather. "Please summon the division staff. We need to review the new operating protocols."
His first day as a manager was an orchestrated disaster.
When Kenji entered the Laundry Pavilion, he wasn't carrying a basket of dirty clothes, but a scroll of parchment under his arm. The servants, led by a defiant Xiong, deliberately ignored him. They continued to work in the old, chaotic, and inefficient way, bumping into each other and splashing water with blatant passive aggression.
"Hey, Xiong," one of his friends shouted. "Don't you think this tub would be better… here?" And with a great heave, he moved a heavy wooden tub to block the aisle Kenji had designated as the new "optimized exit route."
Kenji stopped and observed the obstacle. He showed no anger. He gave no command. He just stood there, motionless, as his brain processed data.
Active resistance via minor physical sabotage. Threat level: low. Impact on opposing team's morale: high. Opportunity for demonstration: excellent.
"Xiong," Kenji said, his voice calm but audible over the noise, "your current method of transporting wet laundry to the drying yard is suboptimal."
Xiong turned, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"Oh yeah? And how would you do it, stick-figure? With your mind?"
"No," Kenji replied. "With logic. The weight of that basket is approximately forty kilograms. The distance you travel via the old route is one hundred meters, including two sharp turns. The required effort places an unsustainable strain on the lumbar muscles and increases the risk of injury by sixty percent."
The other servants stopped working to stare. Kenji's jargon was so foreign it was hypnotic.
"Furthermore," he continued, "it takes you, on average, three minutes and twenty seconds per trip. Today, with ten heavy loads, that amounts to over half an hour of your workday spent on transport alone. A waste of human capital."
Xiong laughed.
"Human capital? I'm a man, not a coin! I get the job done!"
"You do more work than necessary," Kenji corrected. "And you get worse results. I propose a demonstration."
The word "demonstration" hung in the humid air. This was new. It was a challenge.
Kenji turned to two of the oldest laundresses, women whose faces were lined with wrinkles and whose backs were permanently stooped from decades of labor. They were known as Auntie Li and Auntie Mei. They were respected, and everyone knew they suffered from constant pain. They were his key allies, though they didn't know it yet.
"Auntie Li," Kenji said, his tone shifting to one of functional respect. "Could you please describe the feeling in your back after carrying a full load to the drying yard?"
The old woman, surprised to be asked, hesitated.
"Well… it hurts, young Analyst. It hurts like a thousand fiery needles."
"Thank you for your testimony," Kenji said. He then turned back to Xiong. "Xiong, please demonstrate the traditional route. Take that basket to the yard. We want to time your 'efficiency'."
Feeling he was the center of attention and confident in his own strength, Xiong grinned arrogantly. He hefted the heavy basket with a theatrical grunt.
"Watch and learn, you weaklings."
He stomped off, swaggering along the long, winding path. Kenji watched him go, his expression unreadable.
While Xiong was away, Kenji acted. With surprising speed and the reluctant help of a profusely sweating Lao Wang, he moved the tub blocking the aisle. Then, from a corner, he produced his "innovation": a simple wooden wheelbarrow he had seen rotting behind a shed. He had spent the previous night tightening its wheels and greasing the axle with tallow.
When Xiong returned, panting slightly, his chest puffed with pride, he announced:
"Three minutes and fifteen seconds! Beat that!"
"We won't," Kenji said. "We will make it obsolete."
He pointed to the wheelbarrow.
"New transport protocol, version 1.0." He then turned to the two old women. "Auntie Li, Auntie Mei. Please load the next basket into the wheelbarrow."
The two women, confused but intrigued, complied.
"Now," Kenji said, "use the service route. The one we just cleared."
The two old women, pushing the wheelbarrow together, which glided with surprising ease, disappeared down the short corridor. The silence in the pavilion was total. Everyone waited.
They returned in what felt like both an eternity and an instant.
"One minute and forty seconds," Kenji announced, having timed them with his own pulse. "A 49.2% improvement."
But it wasn't the number that struck the servants; it was the look on Auntie Li and Auntie Mei's faces. They weren't panting. They weren't rubbing their backs. In fact, Auntie Li wore a strange expression of… awe.
"My back..." she whispered. "It doesn't hurt."
That sentence was more powerful than any order from Matriarch Feng; it was a logic bomb that demolished Xiong's wall of resistance.
A young servant, who until then had been on Xiong's side, looked at the wheelbarrow and then at his own basket. His expression shifted from mockery to pure, simple thought. Hard work was one thing; stupid work was another.
"See, Xiong?" said Auntie Mei, her normally trembling voice now firm. "The boy isn't a brainiac. He's the first man in thirty years who has thought about our backs instead of his own muscles."
Xiong's face went from red to purple. He had been defeated, not by force, but by the crushing logic of ergonomics. He had been made to look like a fool who defended the right to suffer needlessly. He muttered a curse and retreated to a corner to furiously scrub a sheet, his social dominance shattered.
That was the turning point.
Kenji didn't stop there. He didn't give orders; he asked questions.
"Lao Wang, you have more experience with the drying cycles. Where do you think we should place the folding station to minimize steps?"
The supervisor, stunned at being consulted, stammered out a surprisingly sensible suggestion.
"Auntie Mei, you know the fabrics best. From now on, you will be in charge of quality control at the sorting station. Your judgment is the standard."
The old woman stood up straighter, as if ten years had been lifted from her. She had been given responsibility. Respect.
By the end of the day, the Laundry Pavilion was a different place. The chaos had been replaced by a hum of organized activity. Servants moved with purpose, following the new routes marked with chalk on the floor. There was less shouting, fewer collisions, and, above all, less wasted labor. The younger ones found they finished their tasks sooner, giving them more time to rest. The older ones discovered they ended the day with fewer aches.
Kenji had won. He hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't invoked the Matriarch's name. He had simply proven, irrefutably, that there was a better way. He had turned the servants not into subordinates, but into stakeholders in his new system.
As he made his final supervisory round, his mind was already drafting the day's report.
Laundry Restructuring Project, Day 1. Initial resistance overcome via demonstration of empirical value. Key allies secured within the workforce. Morale among veteran staff increased by 70%. Preliminary productivity up 18%. Acceptable results. Tomorrow: Phase Two, the kitchens.
He was about to leave when a shy young servant named Liling, whom he recognized from the kitchens, approached him nervously.
"Analyst Kenji..." she said quietly, giving a clumsy bow.
Kenji stopped, his face impassive.
"Yes?"
"The Young Lady Xiao Yue sends her greetings. I heard about your… new position from the other servants. Everyone is talking about it. She said..." the girl hesitated, as if the words were foreign in her mouth, "...she said that the 'investment' seems to be yielding 'unexpected dividends.' And she asked me to give you this."
Liling held out a small object wrapped in a silk leaf. Kenji took it. It was light. He unwrapped it with his precise fingers.
Inside, resting in the center of the silk, was a single pill. It was not like the low-quality ones he had seen on Xiao Yue's tray. This one was a pearlescent white, almost luminescent, and emitted a faint scent of mint and ozone, like the air after a storm.
Kenji's mind analyzed it instantly. His vast knowledge, acquired in the library, identified the components by scent and energetic texture.
Asset Analysis: Mind-Clarifying Pill, mid-to-high grade. Main ingredients: Jade Spirit Grass, Snow Lotus Root, Condensed Morning Dew. Estimated effects: 30% increase in cognitive processing efficiency and mental calculation speed for a period of three hours. Side effects: negligible.
Xiao Yue, upon receiving better resources due to her own progress, had decided to reinvest in her "consultant."
"Tell the Young Lady that her contribution to the project's capital is received and will be allocated to maximize future results," Kenji said, his voice as monotone as ever, as he carefully put the pill away.
The girl nodded, though she didn't understand a word, and scurried off.
Kenji stood alone in the now-silent corridor. He looked at the pill in his hand. A tool. A valuable resource that would accelerate his own plans. His alliance with Xiao Yue wasn't just working; it was creating a positive feedback loop. His success fueled hers, and hers fueled his.
An almost imperceptible smile, as fine as a razor's edge, touched his lips in the darkness.
The hostile takeover project had just received its first injection of external capital. And the kitchens had no idea the typhoon of efficiency that was about to hit them.