Madame Xiao

Beside two large tables stood two grand armchairs. The candidates for the selection were split into two lines, each overseen by a clerk-like figure registering them one by one. In the center loomed a tall sign: Xiao Family Servant Recruitment Registry.

Lin Wanrong paced back and forth, sizing up the scene. Half the crowd dressed like him—genuine applicants for the servant gig—while the other half were scholars with ulterior motives. All told, there had to be over a thousand people, all jostling to sign up, terrified of missing their shot.

A measly servant job drawing this many hopefuls? Looked like employment woes were a universal headache, no matter the era.

The thought of all these people as his competition made Lin Wanrong's head spin. That damn Old Man Wei was out to kill him with this stunt—no question about it.

Cursing Wei eighteen different ways in his head, Lin Wanrong weaved through the throng a few times. He'd figured out today and tomorrow were just a formality—simple registration. Since Uncle Wei had already signed him up, he skipped the line's misery and started scoping the place out.

Most of the servant hopefuls wore grim, furrowed brows, clearly fretting over their odds of getting picked. It wasn't much different from the job-seekers' anxiety back in his old world.

The self-proclaimed "elegant" scholars, though, wouldn't deign to mingle with the "lowly commoners." They clustered in little groups of three or five, chatting idly. Their shared tic? Every one of them clutched a fan, flicking it open with a flourish whenever they spouted a poem or couplet.

It was late autumn—were these clowns fanning themselves to ward off the chill? Lin Wanrong stifled a laugh.

Naturally, when scholars gathered, a little showmanship was inevitable. One guy near Lin Wanrong spotted three others, waved his fan, and strode over with a hearty laugh. "Well, well! Brother Wang, Brother Zhao, Brother Li—you're here too!"

The four exchanged bows and pleasantries, each echoing the others' greetings.

"We haven't been called to register yet, and sitting around is dull. How about a round of linked poetry to pass the time?" the first guy suggested. The other three cheered in unison. In this era, reciting poetry in public was the height of cool—much like how, in Lin Wanrong's old world, couples making out or groping in the open was peak fashion.

The proposer was unanimously crowned the "dragon's head," tasked with kicking things off strong.

He pondered for a while, then his eyes lit up at a few fallen leaves on the ground. Beaming, he swayed his head and chanted, "One leaf, two leaves, three or four—"

"Five leaves, six leaves, seven or eight—" Brother Wang picked up.

"Nine leaves, ten leaves, eleven—" Brother Zhao followed.

With the leaves all counted out, Brother Li, stuck with the finale, rolled his eyes and belted, "Falling into the thicket, all unseen!"

"Good poem, good poem!" The quartet clapped and crowed in harmony.

Lin Wanrong watched, helpless. I thought I was shameless, but compared to these four, my skin's still too thin. Shame on me.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted up front. Someone shouted, "Madame Xiao's here! Madame Xiao's here!" Lin Wanrong's heart jumped. Finally—the one I've been waiting for.

The crowd surged forward in a chaotic mess, everyone shoving to get closer. Even the smug, poetry-spouting scholars ditched their airs, squeezing in alongside the "riffraff" they'd sneered at—apparently hoping a head start might win the mother-in-law's favor.

The shameless quartet from earlier had already bolted ahead. Lin Wanrong hesitated for a split second. Screw it—strike first, or suffer later. Who's got time for gentlemanly crap now?

He elbowed through the four, barking, "Excuse me, coming through!"

Thanks to Old Man Wei's "enhancements"—er, no, "empowerment"—Lin Wanrong's strength had skyrocketed tenfold. Shoving the quartet aside was child's play.

The four gawked at his tattered rags, unable to muscle past him. They traded looks and shook their heads. "Purely a matter of character. I won't even bother calling you out."

Amid the crowd stood a striking middle-aged woman in a long palace-style robe. Her faint brows arched gracefully, her phoenix eyes gleamed, and her skin glowed with a delicate sheen—hardly the look of a mother, more like a radiant woman in her thirties. She carried herself with poised dignity, greeting the scholars and would-be servants alike with an air of refined elegance.

From the chatter around him, Lin Wanrong pieced it together: this was the head of the Xiao family, Madame Xiao. Married into the clan at sixteen, she'd borne two daughters and supported her husband with grace and wisdom, the perfect helpmate to Master Xiao.

Tragically, Master Xiao had passed young, leaving her and her girls to fend for themselves. Fortunately, the eldest Miss Xiao had a knack for business. In recent years, she'd poured her heart into managing the family's affairs. While not at its peak, the Xiao household still held steady—proof of a young woman worth admiring.

A dark thought struck Lin Wanrong. With just a widow and her daughters, what if they hired some wolf in sheep's clothing? A guy who'd snag the eldest, then set his sights on the younger sister—after all, didn't they say a little sister-in-law was a brother-in-law's "cozy jacket"? And if he ate the big fish and claimed the small fry, who's to say he wouldn't eye the old mother-in-law too? Damn, what a scandalous, thrilling fantasy—every guy's dream, right?

His pulse quickened. That kind of scenario was a jolt to his system. Back in his old life as a sales manager, he'd pulled every trick to hit quotas—shelling out big bucks for "first nights," roping in a couple of foreign girls for a 3P. Sure, most of it was under duress, but in that cutthroat world, you couldn't dodge the dirt.

To stumble into something like this here? If some scholar just picked one of the sisters, Lin Wanrong could stomach it. But to hog both and bask in a harem? That churned his gut. He'd had his share of rotten luck—seeing others happier than him sparked a jealous streak. No way I'm letting some bastard outshine me in bliss. I'm this shameless—deal with it! In this world, he feared no one.

He chuckled at himself. What the hell am I even on about? Someone marrying sisters or bedding a mother-daughter duo's got jack to do with me. Worrying over nothing when I should be figuring out how to survive here.

Speaking of surviving, a plan was brewing. The Xiao family was a big name in Jinling City. Sure, their glory days had faded, but a centipede doesn't die easy—they were still a sturdy tree. With no power, cash, or connections to his name, hitching to the Xiao clan was like leaning on a big trunk. It might not drop sweet dates, but shade was shade, and Lin Wanrong knew the value of that. From that angle, Old Man Wei shoving him here made some sense.

He'd been lukewarm about this dumb servant contest before, but now it clicked—he started taking it seriously. Back as a sales manager, he'd wined, dined, and whored with clients. It looked glamorous, but the hollow loneliness? Only he knew. If not for supporting his parents and his sister's tuition, he'd have quit ages ago.

Now, dumped into this strange world by some cosmic fluke, he was a lone drifter with no one to answer to, no goals to chase. Becoming a carefree servant didn't sound half bad.

Madame Xiao stepped onto a makeshift platform, her voice soft yet captivating. "Thank you all for your interest in the Xiao family. Rest assured, we'll conduct this recruitment with openness, fairness, and justice. Please line up orderly—no pushing. Everyone will have their chance."

Her tone was gentle, not loud, but the crowd hushed to catch every word, hanging on her clarity.