From all angles, this letter of recommendation suggested that Luo Cheng was no ordinary person. With his technical skills and education, his future prospects seemed promising.

However, there was something peculiar about the letter—it didn’t specify a workplace for him to report to. This was why Luo Cheng had come to the local committee for clarification. Yet, one particular sentence in the letter left the staff uneasy:

“Relevant authorities are requested to prioritize assigning this individual to a suitable unit based on their expertise.”

A simple sentence, but its implications were far from ordinary in this context. The staff handling the letter couldn’t recall ever seeing a recommendation phrased this way. It felt less like a suggestion and more like a directive. The vague term “relevant authorities” added an air of mystery to the letter.

This letter… Could it be fake? But the stamp and the paper are unique to certain official departments. If it’s genuine, I’ve never seen anything like this before.

The staff member, Wang Fen, found herself at a loss. While she had no military background, her work at the township level had exposed her to other recommendation letters for retired soldiers. Most were fairly standard.

When soldiers retired, their units would document their details and discuss potential career paths with those possessing specific skills. Generally, veterans would be placed in roles near their hometowns, if not directly within them.

For ordinary soldiers, the process was straightforward: report to the local office, like a street committee, which would then coordinate with relevant departments for job placement. Skilled personnel often had their placements pre-arranged by the military, with the receiving unit clearly stated in their recommendation letters.

Such placements were also part of state obligations during this period, a political task assigned to various organizations annually.

But Luo Cheng’s letter was different. Its content was brief but intriguing upon closer examination.

Wang Fen decided to escalate the matter to the town committee director for further clarification. Sending Luo Cheng directly to the city office without investigating seemed premature.

“Comrade, please wait a moment. There might be an issue with your referral letter. I’ll consult our director for you. Can you wait a bit?”

Her tone grew more respectful. If the letter was legitimate, Luo Cheng’s credentials—his education and technical skills—warranted a higher level of consideration.

Luo Cheng didn’t mind waiting. He had read the letter himself but lacked a reference to compare it with. His high school education might not seem impressive in modern times when university graduates were common, but it was a decent qualification in this era. The listed skills matched his training, and the recommender was someone he recognized—the vice principal of his technical school.

This vice principal, a portly middle-aged man in his fifties, was less an educator and more an enthusiastic tinkerer with cars. Luo Cheng had often skipped classes to join him in experimenting with vehicle modifications.

The vice principal’s techniques weren’t groundbreaking—he was a school shareholder who happened to enjoy tinkering. His projects were often absurd, such as turning a van into a convertible or attaching a functioning engine to an electric bike, only for the wiring to burn out.

Luo Cheng, on the other hand, genuinely enjoyed the science of modifications and preferred experimenting with data-backed approaches. Though they often achieved little practical success, their experiments were entertaining.

Now, seeing the vice principal’s name on the letter, Luo Cheng wondered how this amateur tinkerer had transitioned into a military officer in this alternate world.

The town committee director, a minor local leader, was equally perplexed. Without a designated workplace, was Luo Cheng free to choose his posting? Could this letter grant him a job in the capital if he wished? It seemed implausible. However, forging a military-issued recommendation letter was a serious crime.

The director used his office phone to contact higher authorities in the city, relaying the letter’s details. He lacked the authority to investigate further.

The city’s response came swiftly. Upon verification, it was confirmed that the letter was genuine and issued by the military. Typically, such letters were reserved for personnel at the regimental level or higher, yet Luo Cheng didn’t match that rank. Further inquiries about the recommender revealed sensitive information, prompting the city official to break out in a cold sweat.

The final directive was clear: cooperate fully. If any unit refused to accept Luo Cheng, the military would intervene directly.

Half an hour later, Luo Cheng left the town committee office with new instructions. His letter couldn’t be processed locally, but arrangements had been made for him to report to a specific office in the city: the HT District Street Committee at 1XX Road, where he should ask for Director Li Hong.

“This era’s public servants sure are efficient,” Luo Cheng thought, feeling impressed. “Although I still don’t have a job, at least I know what to do next. Even the town committee director got involved. If I could leave a five-star review, I would!”

He chuckled at the thought, contrasting it with how bureaucracies functioned in his previous life. But some topics were better left unspoken.