"What do you suggest we do about this?" President Zhou asked Fang Wenjun.
Fang Wenjun shook her head—this was indeed a tricky situation.
The construction team had their own difficulties, but the creative team had poured over a month of effort into this project.
Forcing them to switch to an alternative plan now would undoubtedly leave them disheartened.
Ultimately, everyone shared the same goal: to bring this mission to a successful close.
Yet, fate seemed determined to complicate things.
Since both teams had their own challenges, the responsibility now fell to their painting team.
With this thought, Fang Wenjun turned her gaze toward Jiang Si.
Despite the young woman’s age, Fang Wenjun had sensed from their very first meeting that she was someone destined for greatness.
Noticing Jiang Si jotting something down in her notebook, Fang Wenjun suddenly had an inkling.
"Comrade Jiang, do you have any ideas?"
Jiang Si did, in fact, have a solution. But just as she nodded and prepared to speak,
Qiu Yashu curled her lips and cut in, "President Zhou, I believe the current plan is the most fitting for the New Year’s theme. Switching to a backup would only compromise the final result."
"In that case, it’s better not to change anything at all."
Her words struck a chord with the creative team.
Voices of agreement rose around the room. "Exactly! The unity of fifty-six ethnic groups—what better symbolism could there be?"
Encouraged by the support, Qiu Yashu didn’t hold back. She produced several sketches she had been working on over the past few days.
"President Zhou, these are some drafts I’ve done at home. I know my current skill level may not meet your standards yet," she said humbly.
"But given the circumstances, I’d like to volunteer myself."
"If you find them acceptable, I’m willing to assist the large-scale mural team however I can."
"At the very least, I’ve studied painting for over a decade—I have the fundamentals down."
Her proposal was tactfully presented, striking a balance between humility and practicality.
Unsurprisingly, most of the group endorsed her suggestion.
However, a few remained silent.
These were the same individuals who had seen Jiang Si’s work at the sports event.
Having witnessed something far superior, they couldn’t help but feel Qiu Yashu’s sketches fell short.
Fang Wenjun also examined her apprentice’s drawings.
While Qiu Yashu might not be ready to lead, she was certainly capable of supporting the team.
With this in mind, Fang Wenjun shared her thoughts with President Zhou—only to be met with an unexpected response.
"I’ve seen both their works," President Zhou said. "Their techniques differ, and their styles are noticeably distinct."
"Having two contrasting styles in the same mural would feel jarring, in my opinion."
Twice now, Qiu Yashu had been publicly dismissed by President Zhou. Her expression darkened.
How could there be a clash in styles when both were sketching portraits?
Wasn’t this just favoritism toward Jiang Si, the so-called "privileged one"?
The more President Zhou shielded Jiang Si, the more resentful Qiu Yashu grew.
What she didn’t realize was that President Zhou’s remark about stylistic dissonance was already diplomatic.
The truth was, the gap in their skill was vast.
Take the portrait in his hands: Qiu Yashu’s work captured "likeness," but Jiang Si’s transcended mere resemblance—she pursued "life."
Her paintings exuded an almost lifelike vitality, rich in narrative and unmistakably unique in style.
With Qiu Yashu’s dissatisfaction plain on her face and others exchanging puzzled glances, President Zhou didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he turned to Jiang Si.
Like Fang Wenjun, he had noticed her quietly taking notes earlier.
"This is Comrade Jiang Si, the lead artist for our large-scale mural section," he introduced.
Then, cutting straight to the point, he asked, "Jiang Si, you’ve reviewed the materials we provided?"
"Yes, I have," she replied.
Relieved, President Zhou continued, "Given the current situation, the construction team needs ten days to resume work. That leaves you with only twenty days."
"But what if I told you we could only spare nine days at most? Could you deliver?"
Nine days?
Impossible!
Apart from the construction and administrative teams, who remained unfazed, the rest of the room fell into stunned silence.
All eyes fixed on Jiang Si.
After a brief pause, she nodded. "I can do it."
President Zhou’s pride was unmistakable. "Do you need assistants?"
"No. I can handle it alone."
Jiang Si was confident, but most in the room had never even heard her name before.
With so few having seen her work, skepticism lingered.
"Comrade Jiang, this concerns our collective reputation. There’s no room for error," one member cautioned.
"If we fail to meet the deadline or quality standards, hundreds in the art association will face repercussions."
"Think carefully—don’t act impulsively."
Jiang Si understood their concerns, but words alone wouldn’t convince them.
Only results would.
Without hesitation, she pulled out a stack of her own sketches.
President Zhou flipped through a few before passing them to Fang Wenjun.
The seasoned artist was instantly struck by what she saw.
Jiang Si’s portraits were meticulously scaled, while Qiu Yashu’s were casual imitations.
The two weren’t remotely comparable in dedication, technique, or execution.
What surprised Fang Wenjun most, however, was the faint familiarity in Jiang Si’s brushstrokes—distinct yet subtly reminiscent of something she couldn’t quite place.
Before she could voice her thoughts, Jiang Si stood calmly, just as she had when confronting critics on Qiongzhou Island.
When she acted, she left no room for doubt.
For the next half-hour, Jiang Si outlined her plan in detail:
From the precise positioning of each segment to the forty characters to be featured across the mural,
Down to the exact specifications of her tools—she left nothing unaddressed.
President Zhou listened, arms crossed, his pride evident.
Before concluding, Jiang Si also touched on the mural’s coating.
The era’s standard mixture—lime paste with shredded straw paper—was affordable but slow to dry.
Alternatively, white cement mortar with antifreeze additives offered slightly better results.
But the same issue remained—winter air made walls take much longer to dry.
To speed up the process, there was another method: applying pre-mixed putty directly.
Jiang Si held a temporary work permit from the public security system, so purchasing pre-mixed putty didn’t require additional approval.
The only downside was the significantly higher cost compared to the previous two options.
Jiang Si said, "If we use pre-mixed putty for the walls, the painting team will gain about five extra days for their work."
President Zhou pondered for a moment but ultimately chose the third option.
Expensive as it was, the extra time made it worthwhile.
With the crisis resolved, everyone stepped out of the meeting room with faint smiles.
Since the construction team still had to rush the job, Jiang Si decided to leave first.
The moment the group exited the conference room, Qiu Yashu burst into tears.
"Master..."
But Fang Wenjun had no patience for her sobbing. Clutching her knee, she hurried after Jiang Si—
