Chapter 1807 - Zhang Yunmi Refuses to Be a Secretary
Lu Cheng responded to the summons and entered briskly—one glance revealed three officials occupying the office, including that particular young female Senator about whom considerable romantic speculation had been circulating through gossip channels. Regarding Liu Xiang specifically, Lu Cheng had already abandoned any personal aspirations after undergoing Mentor Du's intensive political training program. Of course, perhaps the more decisive factor was the persistent rumor that had spread virally after Guo Xi'er was formally taken as his concubine: that Elder Liu was an unrepentant "lolicon" with highly specific preferences. Clearly, Lu Cheng no longer qualified under any reasonable loli demographic standard. Moreover, by now she had genuinely lost most interest in pursuing marriage to a Senator purely for achieving "glory through association" and reflected status.
As the newly appointed "Women's Federation Director" for the Guangzhou municipal team, there existed surprisingly little actual women's advocacy work available to undertake in practice. In recently liberated Guangzhou, entrenched clan authority and traditional patriarchal power structures had not yet been systematically suppressed or dismantled. Meaningful women's liberation work simply possessed no viable social implementation context. Instead, this upcoming "liberation of fallen women" campaign happened to encompass responsibilities falling under both her Women's Federation institutional portfolio and her covert Political Security Bureau operational duties simultaneously.
Today she was formally submitting a detailed proposal report on establishing a comprehensive "Relief and Rehabilitation Institute" for rescued women. Having immediately sensed something peculiar and slightly tense in the office atmosphere upon entering—some unfinished conversation hanging in the air—Lu Cheng said nothing beyond her official business. She simply secured Liu Xiang's signature on a receipt acknowledgment form and voluntarily withdrew with professional efficiency.
Shortly after Lu Cheng's tactical departure, Ding Ding also astutely recognized his cue to exit: "Well, it appears Director Qiu indeed wasn't entirely on target in grasping the underlying policy spirit and messaging priorities. I'll return immediately and provide him with thorough remedial tutoring. You're clearly very busy here; I'll take my leave first." Then followed another ritualized round of polite bureaucratic courtesies. After finally seeing off the intrusive but now somewhat enlightened Ding Ding, the office returned to blessed tranquility. Work resumed its familiar rhythm: transcribing documents, reviewing files, maintaining the endless administrative cycle.
Snap! Zhang Yunmi finally completed copying the sensitive correspondence requiring secure "carbon copy" duplication. She meticulously compared her transcription against the original document to ensure absolutely no copying errors had occurred, then carefully folded the document's head and tail sections inward toward the middle to align them precisely. From her personal handbag she extracted her private authentication seal and stamped it firmly at the fold—Hong Huangnan's letter wasn't particularly lengthy, comprising only a single page, so multiple fold-stamps weren't technically feasible. She could only fold it in half and apply one authenticating stamp. Then on the copied text itself, she randomly selected several positions to mark with a small specialized "COPY" verification stamp. Only after these authentication procedures did she hand both copies to Liu Xiang for final review.
Liu Xiang glanced over both documents carefully to confirm everything was in order, then annotated the copying authorization reason on the reverse of the letter paper. Finally, he applied his own private seal beside his handwritten signature. With the authentication procedure complete, Liu Xiang stuffed the letter paper securely into a special inter-Senator confidential envelope already properly addressed, his mind already wandering toward other pending matters demanding attention.
"Uncle Liu?" Zhang Yunmi once again strategically deployed her lethal informal address calibrated appropriately to the delicate topic she was about to raise.
"Hmm?" Liu Xiang responded absently, still partially focused on the envelope.
"I want to undertake some genuinely practical substantive work." Zhang Yunmi decided to speak with direct plainness. Despite formally holding the impressive title "Deputy Director of the General Office," recent correspondence exchanges with her friend Lin Ziqi back in Lingao had revealed that public opinion there still contained considerable voices sarcastically claiming she was merely performing glorified secretarial work, subjecting her to sustained teasing from Lin Ziqi's pointed commentary.
"Huh?" Liu Xiang's characteristic engineering-trained mindset immediately fell into a predictable cognitive trap: "But the General Office Director's responsibilities already constitute very practical, substantive work. The position provides exceptionally deep and broad exposure to the full spectrum of governmental operations across Guangzhou Prefecture. Why would you characterize it as impractical or insufficient?"
"Well, I've observed that woman Lu Cheng conducting quite interesting field operations lately. I thought perhaps I could—how should I phrase this—go down directly to work at the grassroots implementation level?"
Liu Xiang heard this proposal and felt immediate alarm—young lady, do you actually comprehend what "rescuing fallen women" field work currently involves in concrete operational terms? Those reproductive system diseases don't necessarily spread only through direct genital contact! If you enthusiastically join that particular work assignment, a certain aggressively protective Germanophile won't merely come knocking at my door—he'll arrive armed! Little miss, are you here specifically to construct an elaborate trap for me?
He hurriedly deployed extensive biological and epidemiological terminology to explain comprehensively to Zhang Yunmi the genuine medical risks inherent in "going down" to this specific category of "grassroots" field work. This clinical exposition made Zhang Yunmi's face flush crimson with embarrassment, and she began harboring deep suspicions that this strange uncle was deliberately seizing the opportunity to engage in verbal harassment disguised as educational explanation.
After thorough and somewhat awkward communication clarification, Liu Xiang finally grasped that Zhang Yunmi fundamentally didn't want to continue performing work formally titled "Deputy Director of General Office" but functionally constituting "Chief Private Secretary to Mayor Liu." He couldn't suppress the reflexive urge to scratch his head again in bureaucratic consternation.
Liu Xiang's head-scratching stemmed not from little Zhang's new assignment request itself—his concern was far more practical: if little Zhang categorically stopped performing this particular work—and under the current highly flexible organizational system, Senators really could exercise exactly this degree of willful autonomy—then who precisely would assume responsibility for handling the accumulated confidential correspondence and classified administrative work?
Previously back in Qiongshan County, all confidential work had been routinely entrusted to Guo Ling'er—this represented entirely standard Senator operational practice throughout the regime. What arrangement could possibly be more inherently reliable than a trusted pillow-companion with absolute personal loyalty? Even if this romantic proposition didn't universally hold in practice, biological and psychological reality meant Senators still habitually entrusted classified sensitive matters to their personal life secretaries for management and handling. Now Liu Xiang's life secretary had fundamentally changed. Not only was Guo Xi'er a thoroughly inexperienced novice hand at administrative work, she was also someone who demonstrably "couldn't learn" complex tasks despite patient instruction.
When he'd initially attempted having her read routine administrative correspondence to produce basic content summaries, she would invariably fall asleep before completing even a single page. Furthermore, Guo Xi'er possessed what could only be described as a dangerously "loose tongue"—perhaps attributable to extreme youth and corresponding social inexperience, but her casual speech patterns could easily be maneuvered through simple questions to inadvertently reveal extensive secondary information she should have kept confidential.
For example, on the very first night Guo Ling'er had formally sent her to Liu Xiang's bed as his new concubine, during the post-coital refractory recovery period Liu Xiang had casually posed one or two seemingly innocent questions, and she had immediately let everything slip out in naive honesty, cheerfully revealing all of Guo Ling'er's previous private counseling advice about "you're still quite young, immediate childbearing isn't medically appropriate" and similar supposedly confidential "caring" guidance.
Another illustrative example: she maintained a physiological allergy to celery. When selecting food at the communal cafeteria, any normally discreet person would simply inform the serving staff "no celery please" as a simple preference. But Guo Xi'er habitually insisted on announcing "I can't eat celery"—apparently not recognizing that this phrasing unnecessarily revealed additional personal medical information beyond a mere taste preference. Even more problematically, if the cafeteria server added a curious "why not?", she would honestly, guilelessly answer "I'm allergic, physically can't tolerate it" with complete transparency, broadcasting private health details to virtual strangers.
Having carefully observed her behavior patterns throughout the entire journey from Lingao to Guangzhou, Liu Xiang had long since categorically excluded Guo Xi'er from any involvement in his official working hours and sensitive administrative tasks. Otherwise he genuinely wouldn't have withstood institutional pressure to reluctantly accept little Zhang as secretary-general in the first place—there simply existed no other "trustworthy" candidates available who possessed both political reliability and basic administrative competence.
But throughout their extended journey and working proximity, Liu Xiang had also discovered this girl actually harbored quite genuine interest and natural aptitude in fashion design and garment construction. The standardized pattern templates employed in Academy tailoring instruction she had already thoroughly mastered in practical cutting technique. She could even sketch original self-designed templates in confident freehand drafting—though certain peculiar hybrid designs like pairing a Zhongshan suit upper body with traditional deep-robe hemline styling left Liu Xiang utterly aesthetically baffled. But this professional incomprehension didn't prevent Liu Xiang from actively supporting her continued development of this creative interest as a productive outlet.
Back in Hong Kong, he had urgently dispatched correspondence to Lingao specifically ordering delivery of an experimental pedal-operated sewing machine. He had also written to several fashion-talented Senators and various Hanfu enthusiast Senators formally requesting pattern templates, instructional teaching materials, historical design drawings, and similar technical resources. These requested materials had all arrived promptly within the first week after entering Guangzhou. Now Guo Xi'er spent virtually every day contentedly ensconced in Liu Xiang's official residence pursuing her fashion design passion and garment tailoring projects, happily absorbed in genuinely fulfilling creative work that suited her talents and temperament.
Liu Xiang's wandering thoughts had somehow drifted from Zhang Yunmi's career ambitions to Guo Xi'er's domestic activities, then naturally jumped associatively to contemplating that youthfully innocent and delightfully... Ahem. Forcibly yanking his meandering thoughts back to professional present reality, Liu Xiang shifted position on his seat to move closer to the desk, adopted a serious contemplative expression, tapped his forehead thoughtfully, intoned a preparatory "Well then..." before pulling a manila document folder from the desk's right-hand drawer and extending it toward Zhang Yunmi.
"There actually exists one particular assignment that might genuinely interest you, though it requires formal submission to the State Council first for institutional approval. Once authorized, then the implementation team can be properly formed and staffed. Take a preliminary look at this proposal first." Liu Xiang reflected for a moment, then conscientiously added the bureaucratic disclaimer: "Also, according to established organizational principles and personnel regulations, I can currently only assign you to 'primarily oversee' one designated area of policy work in advisory capacity. I fundamentally cannot unilaterally transfer you to command a specific operational department. If you absolutely insist on that level of direct authority, you'll need to process the appointment through the Organization Bureau's formal procedures and approval channels."
Zhang Yunmi responded with an exaggerated big-eye-little-eye style contemptuous eyebrow raise, visually communicating unclear whether she was mentally protesting against ossified bureaucratic work styles or simply processing the information. She reached out to accept the folder Liu Xiang proffered, and immediately registered the proposal title emblazoned across the folder cover: "Proposal for Establishing Comprehensive Cadre Training Institutions in Guangzhou."
"You're certainly aware that our current administrative cadre corps remains stretched dangerously thin across all operational levels. Most current mid-level and senior cadres are shouldering responsibilities genuinely incommensurate with their actual professional capabilities and experience. Yet even with such systematically underqualified cadres struggling in positions beyond their competence, we still face acute personnel shortages." Liu Xiang explained earnestly. "This pervasive underqualification manifests across both dimensions: practical professional technical competence and foundational political ideological thinking. You've presumably observed these deficiencies directly in reviewing this past week's batch of submitted field reports."
Zhang Yunmi nodded agreement, her expression confirming she'd indeed noticed precisely these problems.
"And immediately now, we urgently need to supplement our ranks with substantially more grassroots civil servants to extend administrative reach. These personnel all must be recruited locally from the Guangdong native population. These incoming people differ fundamentally from the carefully trained cadres we brought with us from Hainan—our institutional influence here in Guangzhou remains comparatively limited, the transmitted ideological information inevitably suffers distortion through social distance. So whoever we successfully recruit will unavoidably arrive deeply steeped in traditional old thought patterns and obsolete conceptual frameworks shaped by imperial Confucian society."
Back when their operations were confined to Hainan Island, "grand strategy" formulation and direction had always been tightly controlled by transmigrator Senators. Even numerous specific tactical implementation tasks were personally handled directly by Senator supervision. Naturalized cadres, apart from following directives motivated by personal gratitude, professional ambition, and similar individual psychological factors, possessed remarkably little genuine understanding of the deeper questions: "why we implement policies this particular way" or "the ultimate purpose driving these specific administrative approaches."
More fundamentally, essentially all naturalized cadres chronically lacked conscious awareness of the most basic foundational question underlying the entire political project: "What kind of country and society are we collectively trying to construct here?"
Agricultural sector cadres might understand they were assigned to develop their designated rural areas to visually resemble the idealized scenes depicted in propaganda posters. Factory naturalized cadres might grasp production quota targets and similar quantitative directive plans, might understand some technical processes and operational procedures. But precious few among them could coherently explain why they'd been assigned such specific production tasks and industrial sector arrangements—they fundamentally lacked comprehensive understanding of the overall Australian Song national development vision, of the entire ambitious industrialization endeavor's ultimate objectives.
This systemic conceptual gap hadn't been operationally obvious when the Council of Senators remained geographically confined to compact Hainan Island, because transmigrator Senators personally directed virtually everything and naturalized cadres only needed to competently follow the conductor's baton. Questions they didn't understand could receive authoritative Senator explanations virtually anytime—nearly every significant industry and government function maintained Senators physically present on front lines directly guiding and participating in substantive work.
But across vastly larger Guangdong Province, the extreme acute shortage of qualified administrative cadres not only demanded that everyone develop multi-skilled versatility and operational flexibility. To ensure Hainan Island—currently the world's singular industrialized zone and technological development center—could maintain stable output capacity and continue critical technological advancement, the overwhelming majority of Senators actually capable of effectively guiding complex industrialization processes and sophisticated nation-building had to remain stationed on Hainan Island itself.
The newly liberated Guangnan East Circuit territory, despite possessing far greater population density and vastly larger geographic extent than compact Hainan Island, could muster only approximately thirty-some transmigrator Senators scattered thinly across its expanse. Even including those Senators currently working in Hong Kong's operations, the total barely exceeded forty individuals attempting to govern millions.
(End of Chapter)