Chapter 68: Niu Fangli’s Troublemaking
“Thank you, Director. I will definitely work hard at my post.”
Sheng Wanyan spoke with the perfect poise of a dutiful subordinate. The factory director nodded with visible satisfaction, then signaled that she could head back.
Before leaving, she considerately pulled the heavy office door shut behind her. It was a small, tactful move, but in a world of high-stakes office politics, such attention to detail saved her from a great deal of unnecessary friction in the future.
As she emerged into the hallway, Secretary Fang immediately set aside his ledger and offered her a bright, welcoming smile. Still thinking about the impressive meeting minutes from their city trip, he called out to her.
“Comrade Sheng Wanyan, could I have a word with you?”
Sheng Wanyan paused, looking at him with a hint of confusion. What now? she wondered. Did I accidentally step on a landmine?
“Of course,” she replied.
Secretary Fang gestured toward the stairwell, leading her less than ten steps away. It was a very literal way of “taking a step to the side” for a private chat.
“Comrade Sheng Wanyan, it’s like this…” he began, looking a bit flustered. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to share how you take your meeting minutes.”
He looked quite sheepish. He knew a person’s professional skills were their private trade secrets, and he felt awkward asking so boldly. However, he couldn’t help himself; ever since they’d returned from the city, the matter had been eating at him. He was terrified that the factory director would eventually grow dissatisfied with his own work, seeing that his secretary’s notes weren’t nearly as efficient as those of a new hire from Propaganda.
Seeing Secretary Fang’s embarrassment, Sheng Wanyan immediately saw right through him.
“If it’s inconvenient for you to share, please, just forget I asked,” Secretary Fang added quickly. He knew it was a big ask; who would give away their edge for nothing?
“There’s really nothing to hide,” she said with a dismissive wave. “It’s actually quite simple. I use a partition method to organize the information.”
“Partition notation?”
“Yes. I can write down a quick guide on the method for you.”
“This… I really don’t know how to thank you. It’s quite embarrassing.” Secretary Fang scratched his head, his face reddening. He would have been satisfied with a few verbal tips, but her offer to write out a guide for a twenty-five-year-old man like him made him feel genuinely shy.
“We’re all comrades,” she said with a light laugh. “We should help each other out.”
She certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth: that she was doing this because he was the factory director’s right-hand man. Improving their relationship now meant he might say a few good words for her later or tip her off when opportunities arose.
Am I taking advantage of him? she wondered briefly.
She looked at him with a serene smile, and Secretary Fang, completely oblivious to her tactical maneuvering, simply decided that Comrade Sheng Wanyan was the kindest, most selfless colleague he had ever met.
“Then I’ll be in your debt, Comrade Sheng.” He was deeply grateful and mentally resolved to be the first to notify her if any juicy news or benefits came across his desk.
“You’re very welcome.”
Sheng Wanyan finally left the administrative building with a satisfied smile. The trip had been more than worth it. She had secured the favor of both the factory director and his secretary; as long as she didn’t commit some massive error in principle, this job was hers until retirement.
By the time she finished, the workday was over and her colleagues were heading home. Sheng Wanyan packed her bag and followed suit. Her parents were well aware that the propaganda departments were under a lot of pressure lately, as every factory in town was scrambling to win the approval of the municipal leaders for the upcoming campaign.
Whenever Sheng Wanyan arrived home late, her mother always had a warm meal waiting in the pot.
Since she had agreed to hand over the easel blueprints as a “favor” to the factory, the director had Secretary Fang deliver the three hundred yuan to her the very next day. His decisiveness suggested he might have even fronted the money himself. He was clearly afraid she might have second thoughts, so he chose to cut the Gordian knot and secure the ownership immediately.
Sheng Wanyan pocketed the cash without hesitation. Her businesslike attitude of “cash for goods” made the factory director even more satisfied with the deal.
For the next two weeks, her life revolved entirely around the publicity project. She translated articles at home by night and led the team in drawing and painting by day.
“I just can’t imagine what they would say to each other!” Niu Fangli complained.
It was nearly the end of the month, and although ten days had passed, Niu Fangli was still struggling with the dialogue for the characters in the paintings. Everyone else was buried in their own tasks and had no time to coddle her.
Niu Fangli didn’t dare ask the group for help anymore. She had previously tried to get Sheng Wanyan to switch tasks with her, only to be sharply rebuked by Director Li. She had insisted on doing the writing herself, so now she had to finish it.
The deadline was only three days away, and the city leaders were due for their inspection. Niu Fangli was panicking, but after the scolding she’d received, she didn’t dare complain. She sat at her desk, racking her brain over what a painted worker might say to a painted farmer.
“Comrade Niu Fangli, those dialogues must be finished by tomorrow,” Director Li barked.
“Director… I’m only halfway there. Could everyone maybe… help me brainstorm?”
Director Li’s expression soured. He glanced at her and said, “Fine.”
“Really? Thank you, Director!” Niu Fangli’s face lit up, and she moved to dump her unfinished work onto the central table.
“Of course,” Director Li added coldly. “And when the leaders praise the work, I’ll be sure to tell them that the Propaganda Department as a whole is responsible for the writing.”
Niu Fangli’s face went pale. If the credit was split among everyone, her long hours of “hard work” would be for nothing.
“Comrade Niu, think it over carefully,” he warned.
“Director, I… I can do it myself,” she stammered, pulling her papers back.
Apparently, some people just need a push. Under the threat of losing her individual credit, Niu Fangli managed to finish the task in those final three days. The results were simple—daily conversational topics one could figure out with a bit of effort. When she truly got stuck, she fell back on slogans like “Labor makes me happy,” “Labor is the most glorious,” and “I love to work.”
“Everyone, come in half an hour early tomorrow to set these up,” Director Li ordered, rubbing his neck. It was stiff and aching from days of bending over the canvases to color.
“Yes, Director.”
He had them hand over all the finished paintings, which he carefully locked in a cabinet. He intended to guard these honors with his life.
The next morning, Sheng Wanyan arrived ahead of schedule. The second the team was assembled, Director Li led them out. Sheng Wanyan worked with Wu Jiaxiu and Lin Hongjie to carefully mount the paintings onto the thirty new wooden brackets.
Director Li had originally planned to line them up in two grand rows in the open space at the main entrance to look majestic. However, Sheng Wanyan suspected the timber factory would probably do the exact same thing with their own display.
“I think we should place them at key locations instead,” she suggested. “The canteen entrance, the office buildings, the workshops, and the main gate. That way, the workers are constantly inspired wherever they go.”
