Stop Rushing Me, Hanlin Scholars Don't Work Overtime on Reports

“Mayor Zhao needs this tomorrow. Get it done tonight.”

Gu Huaijin looked at the pile of hopelessly botched reports on the desk and said nothing.

In his previous life, he was a Hanlin Academy Reader in the Great Jing dynasty, drafting imperial edicts for three emperors. In this life, he had been reborn as the lowest-ranking clerk in a township, treated like an errand boy.

Fine. He'd already died once. How hard could it be to write a report?

Six handwritten pages. The mayor read them the next day and said nothing. After the county officials read them, they kept asking who had written them.

Don't rush. This is only the beginning.