Back in the dorm, Zhao Zhi opened the test paper. At first, she was delighted, but by the end, she was stunned.
There were three questions in total.
The first: write a product introduction for the factory to be used for publicity and promotion.
The second: design a promotional poster for the factory.
The third: imagine it is September 1975, and prepare a simple monthly financial budget for the factory.
The first two questions weren’t difficult for Zhao Zhi. Even if she didn’t know the factory’s products in detail, she had already heard Xu Jianguo’s general explanation and the group’s discussions. They were nothing more than small furniture and household items—wooden buckets, basins, foot tubs, cutting boards, spoons, chopsticks, pen holders, stools, and the like.
There were too many products to introduce one by one, so she planned to write a piece emphasizing that, under the peasants’ re-education, the sent-down youths had established a factory and were building the brigade together. Such a publicity draft would surely be eye-catching, even worthy of the newspaper.
As for the poster, this was perfect for Zhao Zhi. She had studied art, and a few of the other youths had. That alone would give her a clear advantage.
The third question seemed simple at first glance. A monthly budget for September, half a year later.
She had never studied finance, but she assumed most others hadn’t either. It was just a matter of listing income and expenses.
What were the factory’s daily expenses? She recalled Han Dongyuan explaining why Cheng Ning could be Office Director—early costs included workers’ wages, materials, tools, transport, and the master’s fees. By September, it would be much the same.
Workers’ wages weren’t hard to estimate—she had a rough idea. But materials, tools, and transport?
Her brow furrowed. She didn’t know what tools were needed for woodworking, how much material was required, or the cost of each. Still, she thought, by September the factory would already be running for half a year—surely they wouldn’t need to buy new tools anymore?
Then came the question of September’s income. By then, would the factory even have revenue?
Zhao Zhi looked up at her dorm mates and saw that they were frowning at their papers. Only Jiang Shanshan was making a racket—whether packing or throwing things, no one could tell.
Liu Lina tapped her finger on the test sheet and sighed: “This is too hard, it’s practically designed to trip us up. Writing a publicity draft, drawing a poster, and now this budget. It looks simple, but the details—we don’t know them at all. The male youths must be more familiar with this stuff, they’ll have the advantage.”
She glanced at Shen Qing and Zhao Zhi: “Forget it. Writing and budgeting aren’t my strengths, and I can’t draw at all. You two can draw—ask your boyfriends to help. Two people answering is better than one. Anyway, for the boys, doing technical work isn’t worse than being an office assistant.”
Shen Qing shook her head. “No, I’ll ask others tomorrow.”
Cheng Ning had said: you can consult others if you don’t understand, but you mustn’t reveal factory information or technology. If she asked Sun Jian, wouldn’t that put him in a bind? Even if she only asked about material prices, others might wonder what they’d discussed. Better to avoid that from the start.
She realized she could ask the villagers who worked at the lumberyard, or even the brigade leader, about what materials and tools were needed, how much, and the prices.
Once she thought it through, she felt calm. It was already late; she would ask the villagers or the brigade leader tomorrow during work.
She even prepared some gifts—red sugar, sunflower seeds—to bring along. After tidying up, she sat at the table, took paper, and began organizing her thoughts. She listed what she didn’t know, so she could ask everything at once tomorrow without missing anything.
Meanwhile, Liu Lina and Zhao Zhi also sat down to work. But less than half an hour later, Gu Jingwen knocked on their dorm door, handed Zhao Zhi a sheet of paper, and left.
Zhao Zhi glanced at it, and her whole expression relaxed. It was a financial budget. With this, she believed no one could outperform her.
By now, Liu Lina had completely given up. Seeing Zhao Zhi’s look, she couldn’t help teasing with a laugh: “So someone just delivered it to you without you even asking? Shen Qing, I used to think your Sun Jian was the best, but now it looks like he’s been outdone.”
Shen Qing looked at Zhao Zhi, biting her lip, her face flushed with embarrassment. She wanted to say something, but held back.
Zhao Zhi had only been in the dorm for about ten days, so she wasn’t very familiar with everyone yet—talking too much could even be annoying.
This dorm was one way, the next dorm another.
Wang Xiaojuan grinned and asked Cheng Ning: “Ning Ning, Director Cheng, we really can’t ask each other about this test, huh?”
“Mm-hmm,” Cheng Ning replied. “And don’t ask me either—we have to keep it fair and just.”
“That’s right, Sister Xiaojuan, don’t pester Ning Ning and make things hard for her,” Min Ran chimed in to support Cheng Ning. “Honestly, I think doing product finishing is already good enough—lettering, oiling, polishing. That’s way better than racking your brains writing all the time… Right, Ning Ning? It’s not that I don’t want to help you, but I think I’m more suited to that kind of work, less mental strain.”
Cheng Ning laughed. “That’s the right way to think. Doing what you enjoy and are good at is most important. Look at these test questions—drawing is fine, it’s not like you’ll be drawing every day. But the office assistant, especially in the early stage of our factory, will definitely have lots of writing work: packaging introductions, product publicity, even promotional material for the commune and Wushan. Then there’s personnel structure and management. We have no experience, no templates—we’ll have to figure it all out and build a database ourselves. It’s really not easy. If you find writing painful, then you’re simply not suited for this job.”
She knew this from seeing the piles of documents on Han Dongyuan’s desk in her previous life.
Everyone gaped, then several voices spoke at once: “Forget it, too scary. If answering one test question feels painful, imagine doing this every day!”
Realizing the assistant role wasn’t so easy, they stopped obsessing over it and relaxed, even turning to gossip.
Ma Tingting snorted: “That Jiang Shanshan, always acting like everyone owes her hundreds of yuan. And saying Ning Ning isn’t qualified to be Office Director? Just listen to what Ning Ning explained—Shanshan, with her nose in the air and her sulky face, only ever thinks of things that stab her own lungs. She couldn’t even grasp the basics. If Ning Ning weren’t Office Director, would she be?”
Wang Xiaojuan added to Cheng Ning: “Don’t bother with her. She’s not really bad, just hot-tempered, always strutting like a fighting rooster. No need to get angry over her.”
Cheng Ning shook her head and smiled: “Why would I be angry with her? Life has so many things to do, so many things worth doing—why waste energy on someone irrelevant? Besides, didn’t I already shut her down directly?”
****
The next evening, between eight and nine, Cheng Ning placed the paper box in the hall and sat there under the kerosene lamp, reviewing each test paper as it was submitted. She checked them one by one.
By nine o’clock, the hall was completely quiet. All the papers had been handed in—except Gu Jingwen’s. He hadn’t submitted, but came over to explain: “This job might be more suitable for girls. I won’t compete with them. I’ll focus on mastering the technical side. If you need help with business later, you can come to me.”
Cheng Ning gave a cold “oh,” not even bothering with polite words, just nodded and let him leave, then continued reviewing the papers.
At nine o’clock, Han Dongyuan came to check on her. “Chosen yet?” he asked.
Cheng Ning handed him a test paper. “They each have their strengths. All are good,” she said.
Han Dongyuan opened them. One was from Xu Dongmei, one from Shen Qing, and one from Sun Jian. He knew Shen Qing and Sun Jian were a couple. But their answers were completely different in style and detail, not like they had discussed them together beforehand.
Cheng Ning explained: “Of the three, only Shen Qing has a foundation in drawing, so for the poster, she’s clearly the best. But drawing isn’t the most important skill for the assistant role—it’s just a reference. The main focus is the other two questions.”
“For those, Xu Dongmei’s work is steady and thorough. Her product introduction is plain but concise and practical. Her budget report covers all aspects and clearly outlines various expenses. That requires not only math and logic but also life experience.”
“Shen Qing’s writing is strong, her calligraphy neat, her introduction well-structured, and her poster attractive. Her budget isn’t as detailed as Xu Dongmei’s, but she put effort into investigating—yesterday I saw her asking the brigade leader and several villagers. Her standout skill is summarizing: she presented the budget in a table, clear at a glance. She’s talented.”
“As for Sun Jian, he’s strongest in what men usually excel at—familiar with woodworking processes, tools, and business logistics like transport.”
Han Dongyuan chuckled. “I’d already planned for Sun Jian to handle business, yet he still went and answered the test. For your assistant, choose between Xu Dongmei and Shen Qing. Or take both—it’s your money and coupons anyway.”
Cheng Ning: “……” She glared at him. “Your factory isn’t even running yet, but you’re already spreading the net wide.”
Han Dongyuan laughed. “They won’t take office right away. For now, let them learn the technical work with everyone else. If you need help, just call them.”
That worked too. She wasn’t focused on administrative details, and once the factory grew, the office would definitely need more hands.
Cheng Ning nodded, then suddenly looked at Han Dongyuan again. He was puzzled by her gaze when she said: “You look very handsome when you smile. You should smile more often.”
It was true. He was already striking—sharp features like carved stone, a bold, fierce aura. But when he smiled, that fierceness softened, and warmth appeared.
Her words made her unexpectedly sad. She remembered him in the later years. She had watched him for decades in his grand mansion—luxury house, expensive goods, even a private plane, admired by countless people. Visitors prepared endlessly just to meet him, terrified of saying the wrong thing. He seemed to have everything. Yet what she saw was a vast, cold house with one eternally lonely figure. In all those years, she had almost never seen him truly smile.
Han Dongyuan couldn’t understand her sudden sadness. He stared at her, his ears burning, lips pressing then parting. After a long look, he sneered:
“Cheng Ning, do you like me? Is that why you said you couldn’t rest easy unless you came down here too? Missing me so much that one day apart feels like an autumn’s length?”
Cheng Ning: “……” Her sadness vanished instantly. She rolled her eyes, snatched the test papers from his hand, gathered the rest of the documents, and walked out without looking back.