The kitchen was the perfect observation post. Information flowed through it like water through a sieve: gossip about disciples, complaints about elders, and rumors about clan politics. And me, the quiet boy in the corner with the potato peeler, I absorbed it all.
"Kenji, when you are finished with those, can you help me with the carrots?"
Lin, the young cook who had been so kind to me, approached with a basket that seemed to weigh more than she did. Her face was flushed from the heat of the stoves. I looked at my current pile. There are fifteen potatoes left. Approximately twelve minutes of work at my current pace.
"I will be there in ten minutes," I replied.
"Ten?" She blinked. "But there are still..."
"Ten minutes," I repeated calmly.
She shrugged and walked away. I heard her mutter something about how Kenji is very fast to another cook. Nine minutes and thirty seconds later, I finished. I carried my bucket of perfectly peeled potatoes to the prep area and found Lin struggling with her carrots. The problem was evident instantly: she was cutting them all the same size even though she would use them in three different dishes.
"Can I make a suggestion?" I asked.
Lin looked up, surprised. "Sure?"
"Those carrots are for the stew, the stir fry, and the garnish, correct?"
"How did you know?"
"I have been observing the meal preparation patterns. The stew requires larger cuts because they cook longer. The stir fry needs a medium julienne for fast and even cooking. The garnish should be thin slices for better presentation."
Lin looked at me as if I had just explained advanced mathematics.
"I... I just cut them all the same and let Chef Gou yell at me afterward."
"You waste time being yelled at, and Chef Gou wastes time recutting them. Both of you lose productivity."
I took a knife and demonstrated. Large chunks on the left. Medium julienne in the center. Thin slices on the right.
"See? The same work, but organized by end use. Chef Gou saves time, you avoid criticism, and the dishes are prepared more efficiently."
Lin watched me work for a moment and then, little by little, began to imitate my technique. After five minutes, she smiled.
"This actually makes sense. Why did no one teach me this before?"
"Because most people do not think about the system. They simply react to it."
"You are strange, Kenji. But strange and useful, not strange and creepy."
"I will take that as a compliment."
From that moment on, something changed. Lin started asking me questions. Then, other cooks noticed. One afternoon, Chef Gou himself passed by my station.
"You," he pointed at me with a ladle that had probably seen better decades. "The turnip pile in the warehouse. It is rotting from the bottom."
It was a test.
"Because whoever stacked them put the heaviest ones on top," I replied without looking up from my task. "The solution is to redistribute the weight: the largest on the bottom, the smallest on top, with vents every three layers."
Chef Gou's expression shifted between surprise, skepticism, and finally, something resembling respect.
"Can you fix it?"
"Yes."
"Then do it. After you finish those potatoes."
He walked away, but I heard him mutter to Uncle Wen that the boy has a brain. He said it was a shame I was built like a toothpick because he thought I would be a good cultivator.
The turnip warehouse was a mess that confirmed every supply chain nightmare I had ever diagnosed. Turnips were stacked haphazardly, the ones on the bottom crushed into a pulpy mass with a smell of rot so intense it was disgusting. I spent two hours reorganizing the entire storage system. I put the largest vegetables at the base, creating a stable foundation. The medium ones went in the center. The smallest were on top. I created ventilation channels using pieces of broken bamboo I found in the corner, which was waste repurposed as infrastructure.
When Chef Gou came to inspect, he stood in the doorway for an entire minute without speaking.
"This is..." he began, but stopped. "This is acceptable."
From Chef Gou, that was practically a love letter.
First principle of influence: solve problems people did not know could be solved.
The next day, Mei found me during the lunch break. She sat next to me in the service dining hall with her usual tired but warm expression.
"I heard you reorganized the warehouse."
"Word travels fast."
"I also heard you helped Lin cut carrots."
"It was a simple optimization."
"Kenji," she said in that maternal tone that somehow made me feel both comforted and slightly scolded. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why do you help people? You do not have to. Most servants here only do their job and nothing more."
I considered the question. The honest answer was complex: because helping others was the most efficient way to generate social capital, create a network of allies, and position myself to progress. But that would sound calculating and cold. So I gave her a simpler truth.
"Because if I can fix something with minimal effort, why wouldn't I?"
Mei studied my face as if trying to read a difficult text.
"You are a good person, Kenji. Even if you talk like a merchant sometimes."
"I am working on my vocabulary."
She laughed softly. "Do not change too much. Your strange way of speaking is starting to grow on people."
The pattern repeated over the following days. I taught a cook who was having trouble controlling the fire temperature how to use charcoal distribution to create heat zones. I reorganized storage for an older servant who could not reach the high shelves, placing frequently used items at accessible heights. I showed a laundress whose washing technique was destroying her hands a grip adjustment that reduced strain. Each solution was simple. Each person helped was grateful.
And I realized that Matriarch Feng was watching. I caught her twice that week. She never said anything and never approached. She only observed with those calculating eyes that missed nothing. On the tenth day, Uncle Wen took me aside in the kitchen.
"Boy, you have made a great impression."
"I am just doing my work."
"No," he said, shaking his head with a knowing smile. "You are doing everyone else's work better than them. That is different."
"Is that a problem?"
"For some? Yes. Xiong and his group think you are showing off."
I had noticed Xiong's increasingly hostile glares.
"And for the others?" I asked.
"For others, like me? You are the most interesting thing that has happened to this kitchen in years." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "But be careful. The tallest tree is the first to catch the wind."
"I appreciate the warning."
"Good. Because I would hate to see you cut down just when you are starting to grow."
That afternoon, while I was helping reorganize the spice warehouse, which was another disaster of epic proportions, Supervisor Liu approached. She was the stern woman who had intervened when Xiong tried to intimidate me on my first day.
"Kenji."
I turned, wiping dust from my hands. "Supervisor Liu."
"Matriarch Feng wants to see you."
My stomach tightened slightly. In any organization, being summoned by senior management could mean a promotion or a termination.
"When?"
"Now. Follow me."
I walked behind the supervisor through the labyrinthine corridors of the clan complex. We passed training courtyards where disciples practiced their forms, administrative buildings where clerks reviewed papers, and finally, we arrived at a section I recognized from my interview: the Matriarch's office. The supervisor knocked twice.
"Enter," Feng's dry voice said.
I went in. The office was exactly as I remembered it: sparingly efficient, with ledgers stacked in precise order. Feng was sitting behind her desk, her back as straight as a sword. She studied me for a moment that stretched uncomfortably.
"Sit," she said finally, pointing to a simple wooden chair.
I sat down, maintaining a respectful but not subservient posture. In business negotiations, body language communicates as much as words.
"You have been here a month," Feng began without preamble.
"Yes, Matriarch."
"In these days, you reorganized my warehouse, improved the kitchen according to Chef Gou's reports, and somehow made yourself indispensable to half of my staff."
She pulled out a ledger and opened it to a marked page.
"Spending on brooms is down. Vegetable waste is down. Staff complaints about warehouse access are down as well." She looked up. "Do you know what that tells me?"
"That the systems were operating below their optimal capacity?"
A slight smile appeared on her lips. "That you are wasted peeling potatoes."
I said nothing. In business negotiations, silence is often the most powerful tool.
"I am reassigning you," Feng continued, "with immediate effect."
Here it comes. Either a promotion or a firing disguised as a reassignment.
"Your new duties will be... specialized."
She closed the ledger and folded her hands on the desk.
"Tell me, Kenji. What do you know about Young Lady Xiao Yue?"
The name hung in the air like a question on a final exam. I opted for carefully measured honesty.
"The daughter of the Clan Master. As I understand it, she has been practically ignored since her mother's death. She eats alone. The servants speak of her with respect."
"Accurate summary." Feng's expression remained unchanged. "What you do not know is that Xiao Yue has requested, no, demanded, a new assistant."
"Was her previous experience unsatisfactory?"
"The one before lasted three months before requesting a transfer. The one before that lasted five weeks. The first one lasted eleven days."
High turnover. Either the position has inherent problems or the woman herself is difficult.
"What happened to them?" I asked.
"Xiao Yue found them... annoying. She is very demanding regarding silence and discretion. Most servants talk too much, work too slowly, or gossip about her situation." Feng's gaze sharpened. "I have observed you. You are serious and you seem to master the art of being present without being intrusive. In short: nobody notices your presence."
"You want me to be her meal assistant."
"More than that. You will be her personal assistant for meals and certain household tasks. You will work alongside her head maid, Liling, who handles her quarters and personal care."
Feng pulled out another ledger, this one smaller and more worn.
"The position includes improved housing: a small private room in the service wing. Your meals will be of better quality. Your stipend increases to forty five copper coins per week."
Better compensation. Private room. Direct access to the clan master's daughter. This is the opportunity.
"But," Feng's voice hardened, "you will remain silent unless spoken to. You will be invisible unless needed. You will maintain absolute discretion regarding anything you see or hear in Lady Xiao Yue's quarters. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Matriarch."
"If you fail, if you displease her, or if you give me any reason to regret this assignment, you will return to the kitchens. Or, more likely, to the street. Understood?"
"Understood."
Feng stood up, and I quickly followed suit.
"Liling will brief you on Lady Xiao Yue's preferences and routines. She is... protective of her mistress. Do not give her reason to doubt you."
"I will not."
"You may leave. Report to the Lady's courtyard tomorrow at dawn. Supervisor Liu will escort you to your new quarters tonight."
I bowed and turned to leave.
"Kenji."
I stopped at the door. "Yes, Matriarch?"
"I am entrusting you with something important. Do not make me regret it."
"I will not let you down."
Outside, Supervisor Liu was waiting for me. She led me through another section of the complex to a modest building I had not seen before.
"These are the upgraded servant quarters," she explained. "Reserved for those with specialized tasks: personal assistants to the elders, domestic staff for the Clan Master, that sort of person."
She opened the door to a small room. It was perhaps double the size of my previous bedroom. A real bed with clean sheets, a small desk, a washbasin, and a window with real glass. To my old CEO self, it would have been ridiculously minimalist. To Kenji the servant, it was a palace.
"Tomorrow, report to Lady Xiao Yue's residence. Liling will be waiting for you."
"Thank you, Supervisor."
She watched me for a moment. "For what it is worth, I think the Matriarch made a good choice. You are strange, but competent. Lady Xiao Yue needs someone competent."
"May I ask why?"
Supervisor Liu's expression softened slightly. "Because that girl has been invisible for too long. Perhaps it is time she had some quality company."
With that cryptic statement, she left. I stayed alone in my new quarters, analyzing the day's events. At my old desk, I would have had three monitors displaying real time data. Here, I had a single window showing the darkening sky. But the principle was the same: I had just been promoted from a general labor role to a specialized position with direct access to a key asset.
My new goal: build a relationship with Xiao Yue.
I sat on the bed and allowed myself a small smile. I closed my eyes, mentally preparing for tomorrow's performance. Silent but present. Efficient but discreet. Competent but humble.
The perfect servant.