New Ming Calendar, Year 2.
Inside the Prime Minister's office, Flat Rabbit sat stiffly in his chair as if the cushion were stuffed with needles instead of cotton. His eyes drifted helplessly over the mountain of documents piled on the desk in front of him, each stack thicker than the last, each page more incomprehensible than the one before.
This, quite frankly, was a disaster.
It was not entirely accurate to say he was illiterate. He could recognize a few essential characters like "one," "two," "big," "small," and "king," which was just enough for him to determine whether a document was upside down. Beyond that, however, the vast ocean of bureaucratic text might as well have been ancient runes carved by ghosts.
Flat Rabbit clutched his head with both hands and groaned, "I'm finished. Completely finished. Why in the world did they elect me as Prime Minister? I am a man whose sword light once chilled forty provinces and whose qi stretched thirty thousand li. I am not someone meant to sit in an office and read paperwork all day."
The clerks in the room exchanged awkward glances but said nothing. There was, after all, no polite response to that.
At that moment, a young man stepped in from outside and greeted cheerfully, "Uncle Rabbit."
The extra "uncle" made everyone turn their heads. It sounded wrong in a way that was hard to explain, yet oddly natural once you knew who was speaking.
Liu Maopao.
Flat Rabbit made a face. "How many times do I have to tell you, stop calling me uncle. I am not your uncle."
Liu Maopao grinned as if the correction meant nothing. "Uncle Rabbit, you look troubled by state affairs."
Flat Rabbit slumped deeper into his chair. "Of course I am troubled. I don't even know why everyone voted for me. I cannot read, and now I am supposed to run a country."
Liu Maopao clasped his hands behind his back and spoke with calm confidence. "That is because what people know about you is not what you think they know. Your illiteracy is something only the old villagers from Gao Village Family are aware of. To the rest of the world, you are something else entirely."
Flat Rabbit blinked. "What am I, then? A great swordsman?"
The clerks nearly choked at that answer.
Liu Maopao continued smoothly, "A founding hero. A great philanthropist. A man who fears no power, who lives cleanly, who stands for justice, who is unmoved by beauty and untouched by greed."
Each title landed like a polished brick, building an image far grander than the man sitting in the chair. The clerks, after recovering from their initial shock, found themselves nodding along. From an outsider's perspective, that image was not wrong at all.
Of course, those who had known him longer were also aware of his less admirable qualities, such as his inability to read, his tendency to brag, and his occasional flair for dramatic nonsense, but those details did not travel far beyond close circles.
Flat Rabbit scratched his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "Even if that is true, it does not solve my problem. These documents are my responsibility. I cannot just ignore them because I cannot read them."
Liu Maopao stepped forward and placed a hand lightly on the desk. "Then the solution is simple. Ask for help. Invite Shan Shier to assist you, and bring in Tan Liwen as well."
Flat Rabbit hesitated. "That feels wrong. I took the position from them, and now I go crawling back to ask for help. That sounds like an insult."
Liu Maopao shook his head. "If anyone else did it, perhaps it would be. But you are different. No one believes you have ill intentions. Besides, this is collective governance. The country was never meant to be run by one man alone. Asking others to participate is not weakness. It is the system working as intended."
He paused, then added with a hint of personal ambition, "And if you allow them to come, I would also like to learn from them."
Flat Rabbit thought about it for a long moment before finally nodding. "Fine. I will go."
And so he did.
When Flat Rabbit personally visited to extend the invitation, there was no sense of humiliation on the receiving end. Shan Shier agreed without hesitation, and Tan Liwen joined soon after. Liu Maopao naturally followed along, securing himself a junior position within the Prime Minister's office.
From that point on, the structure became clear. Flat Rabbit remained the face of authority, while the actual governance was handled by Shan Shier, Tan Liwen, and a growing group of secretaries.
Among them, Liu Maopao stood out.
Where others occasionally slowed down or took breaks, he worked relentlessly. When there was a task to be done, he was always the first to step forward. While others rested on weekends, he continued working as if time itself were chasing him.
Even Shan Shier could not help but remark one day, "Some people use connections to secure a position where they can idle away their days. Liu Maopao uses connections to gain a stage where he can prove himself. These two types of people cannot be compared."
Years passed.
By New Ming Calendar Year 13, Shan Shier had served two terms as Prime Minister. Age had begun to weigh on him. His hair showed streaks of gray, and his posture was no longer as straight as before.
Everyone understood what that meant.
The next election would bring change.
The question was not whether Shan Shier would step down, but who would replace him.
One year before the election, something unusual began to appear on the streets of the capital.
A massive steam-powered vehicle rolled slowly through the city, drawing curious stares from every direction. Standing atop the vehicle was Liu Maopao, holding a metal megaphone, his voice ringing loudly across the streets.
"Listen, everyone, listen. My name is Liu Maopao. I was born in Heyang County, Shaanxi. Years ago, I traveled to Gao Village Family. I later joined the village council and participated in administrative governance."
The novelty of the scene alone drew a crowd. People gathered quickly, curious about this man who dared to introduce himself so openly in public.
Seeing the growing audience, Liu Maopao's energy only intensified.
"I have experience in administration, in diplomacy, and during the founding war I contributed significantly to the movement of collective governance."
The crowd listened, some nodding, others whispering among themselves. His credentials, laid out so directly, began to reshape how people viewed him.
Then he shifted tone.
"Next year, I will participate in the Prime Minister election. If elected, I will address the following issues for the people."
He launched into a detailed list of policies and reforms, each one aimed squarely at real problems the common people faced. He did not speak in vague ideals. He spoke in practical solutions.
His voice carried conviction, and his words struck their mark.
"I promise that if I become Prime Minister, I will bring a better life to all of you."
Applause erupted.
Days later, the same scene played out in Luoyang. Then in Xi'an. Then in Chengdu.
Liu Maopao traveled from city to city, using trains and steam vehicles, repeating his speeches, refining them, amplifying them, until his name began to spread across the land like a rising tide.
For the first time, the people saw something new.
Not a hero chosen by fate.
Not a ruler born into power.
But a man standing in the street, speaking directly to them, asking for their support.
And whether they realized it or not, the rules of the game had already begun to change.