by CarrieVS » Wed Feb 21, 2018 1:36 am
Baozi stares numbly at his - former - master, before he realises how rude he is being and lowers his gaze. He cannot say anything, and simply leaves.
Governor Liu must have been displeased by the discovery of Liu Bei's ancestry. Perhaps he genuinely disliked him, and had only seized on the excuse, which he has now lost. Or maybe he had wanted to dismiss Baozi anyway, and is just accepting Colonel Liu's recommendation now. He gets - got impatient with Baozi's stumbling and hesitation; probably he is glad to replace him.
Baozi feels the hot pricking of tears in his eyes, and dashes a hand over his face to wipe them away. He has work to do after all. He cannot bring himself to go to the library or anywhere he might be noticed and spoken to. He hurries back to his apartment and his desk there, mercifully not seeing anyone on the way.
He is a fool. A blind, ignorant fool. He had thought himself so clever over this. And how will he face De Wang again, when he will have to tell him what has come of their labours. De Wang will probably be too kind to laugh at his naivety, but he will be thinking it for sure.
He finishes the memorial to the Court, sets it aside, and takes a fresh page.
Being dismissed by Governor Liu is a bitter disappointment, but he can understand it. There are surely many other officials who are just as good at dealing with the letters and archives and schedules, without being so hopeless when their duties call on them to speak to someone. This Zhang Shiping - not a name he recognises - will probably serve him much better than Baozi.
He has written nothing so far.
Somehow, that Colonel Liu should have advised the Governor to replace him seems to hurt more. He had seemed to take such a kind interest in Baozi lately. How stupid he is. He was lucky, very lucky, to get this post, and now he has ruined everything.
What can he possibly write to recommend himself? He has just proven his ignorance and stupidity. He has not yet set brush to paper, and his inkstone has gone dry. He had better deal with the memorial first of all; if he is late with the other thing then it is only he who will suffer for it. He manages to instruct a messenger to take it to the Governor, and then retires back to the sanctuary of his room.
He will have to write to his parents as well. How can he possibly explain to them how he has come to lose his post? That at least can wait, but he must do something about the recommendation. He sits at his desk again, trying to find words.
He realises that he cannot see the page in front of him any more - though there is still nothing on it - and gets up to light a lamp. It ought to be time for dinner, but he is not hungry. He abandons his efforts for the day, but finds that he cannot concentrate on reading any of his books, or on anything else. It it much too early to go to bed, but he lies down anyway, though he does not sleep.
A Combustible Lemon wrote:Death is an archaic concept for simpleminded commonfolk, not Victorian scientist whales.