Chapter 7

As the one being “pursued,” Ye Manzhi herself was completely unaware.

Two days later, just as she’d hoped, she received notice from Director Mu — she could now report for duty at the subdistrict office!

The air at 8 a.m. had never felt so fresh.

With a notebook tucked under one arm and ink, a tea mug, and a large lunchbox in the other hand, Ye Manzhi strode energetically through the doors of her new workplace.

She looked more vibrant than the tall sunflowers blooming outside in the front yard!

After everyone finished their onboarding procedures, Director Mu held a small welcome gathering for the four new trainees.

On behalf of the People’s Committee of Zhengyang District and the Guangming Subdistrict Office, she welcomed the new comrades.

Then, she gave a brief introduction to the Guangming Subdistrict Office.

The jurisdiction covered 2.5 square kilometers — exactly the same area overseen by the neighboring police station. Wherever the police had authority, the subdistrict office had jurisdiction too!

With a population of 18,000 — once again, exactly matching the police station’s records!

Ye Manzhi felt that this double emphasis was highly effective. In her mind, the new workplace instantly rose to heroic status!

Director Mu said with a smile, “Many ordinary folks confuse the subdistrict office with the residents’ committee, but they’re not the same at all. The residents’ committee is a mass-based autonomous organization, and most of its members are enthusiastic neighbors elected by the community.”

“But our subdistrict office is a local government body, a grassroots arm of the state. We’re responsible for promoting Party policies, implementing administrative regulations, guiding the work of the residents’ committee, and raising the socialist consciousness of the community! Put simply, we are the most grassroots level of state cadres!”

“…”

“…”

“Well then, no need to say more. Charging ahead and resting last — that’s the tradition of our team! Since you’re all now quasi-state cadres, you must abide by the ‘Three Major Disciplines and Eight Points for Attention’ for Party and government officials. Get used to the subdistrict’s work as quickly as possible, and strive to be diligent stewards for our 18,000 residents. Let’s all contribute our bricks and mortar to the great cause of communism!”

Director Mu’s speech was uplifting and morale-boosting. Paired with the bold calligraphy behind her reading “Serve the People,” it stirred Ye Manzhi’s spirit.

Just yesterday she was an unemployed young woman — today she had become a quasi-state cadre!

At this point, Deputy Director Zhang Qinjan cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Director Mu has already covered things thoroughly. I’ll just add one more point. As subdistrict cadres, we all need to pay close attention to our appearance and dress! We promote a style that is hardworking, frugal, dignified, and modest. Some comrades still need to improve in this area…”

Ye Manzhi glanced down at her blue-and-white plaid dress with lace-trimmed cuffs — simple and tasteful.

“Some comrades” clearly wasn’t referring to her.

The other three new recruits seemed to think the same. They all looked at Deputy Director Zhang with wide, confused, and innocent eyes.

Zhang Qinjan had clearly overestimated their level of political awareness and had to spell it out more clearly.

“We serve the people face-to-face. If you’re drawing on your eyebrows today and getting your hair permed tomorrow, how do you think the masses will view us as cadres?”

At this point, Ye Manzhi finally realized the deputy director was calling her out.

True, she hadn’t drawn her eyebrows — but she had permed her hair!

Feeling a little guilty, she was just about to offer an explanation when Liu Jinbao, standing nearby, spoke up first…

“Deputy Director Zhang, my curls are natural, I was born with them — I didn’t get a perm!”

Ye Manzhi looked in shock at the baby-faced speaker, full of admiration for his boldness in lying so confidently without fear of being exposed.

She was somewhat familiar with Liu Jinbao — back when she did some tailoring for extra income, he was her only male customer, and also the most fashion-forward, appearance-conscious man she had ever met.

His hair had been perfectly straight back then!

Deputy Director Zhang Qinjan had barely seen anyone with permed hair in his life. He scrutinized Liu Jinbao’s curls for a moment, unsure whether they were real or not, and shifted his focus to Zhuang Ting, who had drawn on her eyebrows, and to Ye Manzhi, who had indeed permed her hair.

“Xiao Ye, what’s going on with your hairstyle?”

Ye Manzhi didn’t dare lie. She admitted honestly, “I went on a blind date a few days ago. To look prettier, my sister took me to get a perm. If I’d known I was going to work at the subdistrict office, I definitely wouldn’t have done it!”

At that, the two directors — who had just been going on about “state cadres” and “communism” — simultaneously asked, “So, how did the date go?”

“…It didn’t work out,” Ye Manzhi replied.

In an instant, the subdistrict office’s image in her mind dropped from the lofty stature of a police station right back down to the level of a residents’ committee.

Director Mu consoled her: “It’s rare for blind dates to succeed on the first try. You’re still young, no rush!”

She then deliberately ignored Deputy Director Zhang’s earlier remarks about dress and grooming and moved on to assign tasks.

Following the “mentoring the new” principle, each of the four veteran staff members would take on one newcomer.

Since civil affairs work involved direct interaction with the public — like registering marriages and issuing new ration books — and required a great deal of paperwork, Director Mu pulled out the four newcomers’ résumés and handed them to Feng Chaoyang, who was reading the newspaper like no one else was in the room.

“Old Feng, here’s a helper for you — pick one.”

Holding the newspaper up with both hands, Feng Chaoyang tilted her head to glance at the résumés, then quickly looked away.

“You’re the director. You decide.”

She didn’t comment on anyone’s handwriting, but her dismissive attitude said it all.

Director Mu tried to smooth things over: “Old Feng is the district’s calligraphy champion — her standards are quite high. In my opinion, everyone’s writing is pretty neat… except maybe Liu Jinbao’s.”

Liu Jinbao, unfazed by criticism of his messy handwriting, quickly chimed in with flattery: “No wonder people always line up to get letters of introduction from Auntie Feng. Turns out she’s a calligraphy master! We all have to learn from her!”

From behind the newspaper, Feng Chaoyang chuckled twice. “I’m the only one left doing civil affairs. Who else would they come to?”

The flattery had clearly backfired. Scratching his “naturally curly” head, Liu Jinbao decided to stop trying to please her.

Anyone with eyes could see that Auntie Feng wasn’t easy to get along with. So, when Director Mu asked if anyone could draw, everyone stayed silent.

An awkward hush fell over the office. Someone even opened the door to stamp a form, saw the tense scene, and quietly backed out.

Director Mu’s gaze swept across the group. When her eyes landed on Ye Manzhi a second time, Ye raised her hand.

“Director, I only know how to draw some clothing patterns — is that good enough?”

“Draw a couple of strokes and let’s take a look.”

Ye Manzhi took a pencil and sketched a plum blossom on the edge of a newspaper. Feeling it was a bit too simple, she quickly added a…

…a peony.

“What do you think?” she asked. “I think it looks pretty good.”Director Mu turned and called out, “Old Feng, come take a look?”

Feng Chaoyang gave it a light glance, let out a noncommittal grunt through her nose, and said, “Is there anyone else besides her? She’ll do for now.”

“Alright then. Xiao Ye, from now on you’ll work with Auntie Feng. Her calligraphy and painting skills are among the best in the city — learn from her!” Mu Lan finalized the decision with a wave, like tossing off a burden. “Civil affairs and publicity work will be handled by you two!”

Ye Manzhi nodded eagerly. She was quite pleased with the assignment.

Auntie Feng’s duties were a mix of desk and field work — issuing letters of introduction, registering marriages, and occasionally going out with chalk and paint to write or draw on bulletin boards and walls.

It meant not being stuck in the office all day, nor running around constantly — very flexible.

As for Auntie Feng, whom others found intimidating… heh.

Ye Manzhi had never met a middle-aged woman she couldn’t handle in her whole life.

She figured it wouldn’t be a problem!

At that time, she hadn’t yet realized that Comrade Feng Chaoyang was not your average middle-aged woman — and certainly not someone you could sum up with just the word “difficult.”

But that’s a story for another day.

—

After the welcome meeting, Ye Manzhi was assigned the desk near the door, sitting beside Auntie Feng — convenient for helping visiting citizens.

It happened to be a great day for weddings, and newlyweds arrived one after another to register.

Marriage certificates required hand-written names, ages, and the registration date. Everyone wanted a good omen, so they’d ask for the auntie with the beauty mark between her eyebrows — she had nice handwriting.

Ye Manzhi didn’t yet have the same public reputation as Auntie Feng, so she took the initiative to check everyone’s documents and occasionally stamp the booklets.

In just half a day, she was given an orange candy, a preserved plum candy, and had even collected a small handful of wedding sweets to take home for her parents.

These joyful, sweet days went on for two days. On the third day, just before the lunch break, a young couple walked in with three children in tow.

Feng Chaoyang didn’t just treat her coworkers with indifference — she treated the public the same way. “It’s already lunchtime. Why didn’t you come earlier?”

The man responded gruffly, “I just got back from out of town. Lunch break isn’t until twelve, right? Still five minutes left — can’t you make an exception?”

Feng Chaoyang locked the official seal in the drawer. “Five minutes isn’t enough. Come back tomorrow.”

“How long does it take to just write a few words on a marriage certificate?” the man snapped.

He had a fierce scar running from the corner of his eye down to his chin — clearly not someone to mess with.

Ye Manzhi was genuinely worried Auntie Feng would provoke the man and get hit. After all, there was precedent — according to Liu Jinbao, she had been assaulted just last year.

So Ye Manzhi quickly stepped in with a big smile, congratulated the couple, and brought them over to handle their paperwork.

The bride was Guo Erni, a rural commune member. Her household certificate and introduction letter were both issued by the Agricultural Cooperative.

The groom, Zhao Zhenhua, was unemployed and a resident of Guangming Street. He had brought his resident ID, but no household register — he would need to get a proof of residency from the police station before registering.

Ye Manzhi explained the situation clearly, asked the man to fill out the form at the empty desk in the back, and got the idle Liu Jinbao to go next door to verify the household information.

Then she returned to processing the rest of the paperwork.

She had just gotten the hang of civil—

She was new to civil affairs work, so her review process was slow and meticulous — she read every line, word by word.

So when she saw the bride’s letter of introduction stating her marital status as “married,” she thought she must’ve misread it.

“Comrade Guo, you’re already married? Are you two here to reissue a marriage certificate?”

Some couples who got married before the founding of the country would later apply for official certificates, and since they had brought kids, that’s what Ye Manzhi assumed.

“No.” Guo Erni’s gaze was steady and unflinching, her tone firm and righteous.

“Nonsense!” Aunt Feng slammed her tea mug on the desk and scolded, “You’re already married — what are you doing applying for a marriage certificate? That’s just ridiculous!”

“Who says you can’t register if you’re already married?”

Aunt Feng frowned. “That’s the national policy!”

That was exactly what Guo Erni had been waiting for!

She pulled a brand-new marriage certificate from her coat and slammed it down in front of Aunt Feng.

The pen holder and inkwell on the desk clattered to the floor.

Guo Erni was like a volcano that had lain dormant for years, finally erupting.

Pointing at the marriage certificate, she demanded, “Isn’t this certificate issued by your subdistrict office?”

Aunt Feng wasn’t affected by her emotions. She unfolded the certificate and calmly verified the official seal. “Yes, this was issued by us. What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem?” Guo Erni laughed in disbelief. “This man is already married — he has a wife and kids! Why would you issue him another marriage certificate?”

While rummaging through the drawer for registration documents from the past few days, Aunt Feng refuted, “Impossible. Marriage registration requires a household register, resident ID, and an introduction letter. If he were already married, there’s no way we would’ve issued a marriage certificate!”

Guo Erni pushed her three children forward. “If he wasn’t married, where did these three kids come from?”

Seeing that her finger was about to poke Aunt Feng’s face, Ye Manzhi quickly stepped out from behind the desk and tried to calm things down. “Comrade Guo, let’s sit down and talk this through. The kids are here — don’t scare them!”

Guo Erni shook off her daughter’s little hand, her emotions completely unraveling. “I can’t even survive myself anymore — how could I possibly care about the kids!”

The three children burst into frightened sobs, trembling like baby chicks, huddled together and clutching at her clothes, crying, “Mama!”

Others in the office rushed over — some tried to soothe the children, others asked what had happened. Everyone was stunned. They’d thought this couple came to register for marriage — who would’ve guessed they were actually here to settle a score?

The office was in a noisy uproar as Aunt Feng finally found the archived registration files.

Bride: Sun Xiaoyue, 24, widowed, unemployed.
Groom: Zhao Guodong, 32, single, employee at Factory 656.

Aunt Feng laid all the materials out in front of them. “Zhao Guodong’s household register lists only him. The ‘marital status’ section is blank. The introduction letter issued by the workshop office at Factory 656 confirms he is unmarried. According to regulations, we’re allowed to process his marriage registration.”

“I’m registered as a rural resident. The kids’ household records follow mine, so of course they’re not on his register — but we’ve been living together all along.”

While tidying up the items on the desk, Aunt Feng spoke in a voice as cold and flat as her expression. “The household register is issued by the police station. The introduction letter came from Factory 656. If you think there’s a problem, go deal with them first!”

Guo Erni, like a woman gone mad, swept everything off the desk and onto the floor — even Ye Manzhi’s desk wasn’t spared.

“The marriage certificate was issued by your subdistrict office, so you should be responsible for it! If you were able to give him a certificate, then why won’t you process my registration?”

Only then did Ye Manzhi remember the other party involved in this marriage registration. She turned to look for him — and there he was, Zhao Zhenhua, still at the back quietly filling out forms like nothing was happening!

Just as she was about to call out to him, the office doors were suddenly flung open.

Zhao Guodong barged in with his newlywed wife in tow.

“I came home from work and couldn’t find you — I figured you must have come here!” Zhao Guodong picked the marriage certificate up off the floor and tried to persuade her in a low voice, “Erni, didn’t we agree? Whatever it is, we talk it over behind closed doors! Why won’t you listen again? Come on, let’s go home first!”

“Talk it over?” Guo Erni slapped him hard across the face. “What was there to talk about — did it end with you talking your way into your sister-in-law’s bed?”

Everyone: “……”

Oh. Wow.

Director Mu, who had been about to step in and mediate, zipped his lips.

Zhang Qinjan, who had prepared to break up the fight, also froze in place.

Ye Manzhi, who had just started her role as a junior cadre three days ago, was completely captivated by this non-stop drama — she totally forgot she was supposed to act with some level of authority and wished she had an extra pair of eyes to take it all in.

“Xiao Ye! Xiao Ye!”

As she craned her neck to keep watching, Ye Manzhi’s sleeve was tugged by Liu Jinbao, who had just slipped through the door.

“What? If it’s not urgent, wait till later!”

“We can’t wait!” Liu Jinbao held up a resident ID with trembling fingers, his voice shaking. “Old Sun from the police station helped me check it just now. That guy Zhao Zhenhua, the one who was registering for marriage earlier — his record is marked as deceased! He was removed from the registry at the beginning of the year!”