Just as Minister Zhao was overwhelmed by the situation, Jiang Si and Professor Li exchanged a glance before she calmly pulled out a prepared document from her briefcase.
"Minister Zhao, regarding the labor issue, Professor Li and I have already discussed it. Here’s our preliminary proposal. Would you take a look and see if it works?"
In fact, on the very day Chi Heng raised the deadline demand, Jiang Si had already brought the matter to Professor Li’s attention.
The two of them deliberated for several days before finalizing this plan.
The proposal was somewhat similar to what would later be known as labor dispatch.
At Professor Li’s prompting, Jiang Si briefly explained, "Our idea is to avoid recruiting workers from the city."
"Then where would you recruit from?"
"The outskirts."
Minister Zhao fell silent, gesturing for her to continue.
Jiang Si elaborated, "There are many communes around Capital City. The summer harvest and planting season have ended, and the autumn harvest hasn’t yet begun, leaving a surplus of idle young laborers in these communes."
"We can bypass the planned quotas entirely and sign short-term labor contracts directly with these communes."
"As for wages, part of their earnings would be taken home, while the rest would be handed over to their production brigades as agreed, converted into ‘work points’ based on their attendance."
"This way, we can meet our labor needs while also providing extra income for the commune members."
Here, Jiang Si added the most crucial point—one that addressed Minister Zhao’s biggest headache: management.
"These workers’ household registrations remain with the communes, meaning they’re still technically commune members."
"If any issues or disputes arise, we can coordinate directly with the local commune leaders, who will handle the mediation. This makes management much more straightforward."
Of course, this was the worst-case scenario.
Jiang Si didn’t think such problems were likely.
After all, for many, the chance to work in the city and earn money was like a dream come true.
Anyone with sense would give it their all.
Slacking off was out of the question.
As for meals and accommodation, Jiang Si had already considered that too.
They could select communes close to the embassy district.
There’d be no need for dedicated shuttle buses—just a monthly bus pass subsidy per worker would suffice.
Of course, these were just preliminary ideas.
The final decision rested with the leadership.
"Minister Zhao, please think it over. If this proposal isn’t feasible, we can—"
"No need. This is the one!"
The more Minister Zhao listened, the more convinced he became. He immediately approved it.
"Let’s proceed with your plan. Draft a report on the number of workers needed and the estimated budget."
After a pause, he added, "As for the paperwork, I’ll have Little An handle the coordination this afternoon. Once everything’s settled, we’ll send it over."
"Understood," Jiang Si nodded.
With the matter settled, Minister Zhao visibly relaxed.
Seeing that it was getting late, Jiang Si stood up. "Minister, if there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to work."
"Jiang Si, hold on a moment." Minister Zhao stopped her with a smile.
Puzzled, Jiang Si sat back down, assuming he had additional requests.
Instead, Minister Zhao looked at her seriously and cut straight to the point.
"Jiang Si, have you ever considered going to university?"
"University?" Jiang Si was taken aback.
His tone reminded her of that classic line: "Old Xu, do you want a wife?"
But the problem was, it was only 1970—over seven years before the national college entrance exams would officially resume.
Well, there had been a brief reinstatement in 1973, but it was reportedly derailed by a certain "blank exam paper" incident.
As these thoughts crossed her mind, Jiang Si suddenly realized—Minister Zhao wasn’t referring to traditional university admission.
Sure enough, the moment this thought struck her, Minister Zhao pulled a document from his drawer.
"Take a look at this, and you’ll understand."
Jiang Si accepted it and scanned the bold red heading:
"Proposal on Student Enrollment (Pilot Program) by Capital University and Qinghua University."
Dated June 27, 1970.
The report was brief, stating that after three years of political campaigns, the two universities were now ready to resume admissions.
The plan was to begin enrollment later that year.
The program offered two tracks:
A standard two-to-three-year course, and a one-year advanced training program.
The curriculum would integrate teaching, research, and production, along with military training focused on national defense.
The target students? Workers, peasants, and soldiers with practical experience.
Having read similar stories in her past life, Jiang Si immediately recognized this as what later generations called the "Worker-Peasant-Soldier University."
Influenced by the era, admission wasn’t based on exams or academic merit—it relied on recommendations.
Applicants typically needed two to three years of practical experience, which could include military service, rural labor, or factory work.
Her current position counted too, provided her record was strong enough.
Noticing her thoughtful expression, Minister Zhao spoke up.
"Jiang Si, this is a rare opportunity. Our unit has three recommendation slots."
"If you’re interested, we’ll prepare the necessary materials for you."
This was the first resumption of university admissions since the nationwide suspension in 1966.
The two pilot institutions were Capital City’s top universities.
In other words, these would be the first to test the waters.
Both professionally and personally, Minister Zhao believed Jiang Si should seize this chance to further her education.
In this era, a university degree carried far more weight than a high school diploma—evident in salary grades, professional evaluations, and housing allocations.
Minister Zhao valued talent, so he laid out all these points plainly.
Professor Li, too, was deeply moved.
Over the past few months, his relationship with Jiang Si had grown into one of mentor and friend.
He saw in her remarkable talent and vision—a person brimming with potential.
In the past, he would’ve urged her to spend a few years at university honing her skills.
But this time, admission was purely recommendation-based.
That meant there was no way to guarantee the quality of the student body.
So when Minister Zhao glanced at him, Professor Li refrained from outright persuasion.
Instead, he neutrally outlined the pros and cons, leaving the choice entirely to Jiang Si.
"That’s the situation. The decision is yours."
In this matter, Professor Li respected her autonomy completely.
For that, Jiang Si was profoundly grateful.
She had been at the unit for less than half a year, yet she was already being treated with such favor. For Jiang Si, this was truly a stroke of luck.
Moreover, the opportunity was indeed rare.
But after some thought, Jiang Si still declined.
"Xiao Jiang, do you have any concerns?" Minister Zhao assumed she was worried about her family background or the required years of practical experience.
Jiang Si shook her head.
Based on her plans for the future, she didn’t need the title of a Worker-Peasant-Soldier university student to bolster her standing.
Besides, she wouldn’t learn much at the university anyway.
From what she recalled, students from those batches were mostly in a half-work, half-study arrangement.
Students weren’t keen on learning, teachers were afraid to teach, and outside of class, they still had to labor in factories for practical training.
Jiang Si knew she couldn’t endure such hardships.
On top of that, once she finished the two design projects at hand, she had other plans—she simply couldn’t spare the time.
Choosing her words carefully, she said, "Thank you for your kindness, but attending university isn’t part of my life plans for now."
Knowing she was strong-willed, Minister Zhao didn’t press further.
"If that’s your decision, I won’t say more."
However, when he heard she wouldn’t be taking on any more design projects, Minister Zhao couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Truthfully, Jiang Si had wrestled with this decision for a long time.
But what ultimately made up her mind wasn’t the advice her mentor had given.
She simply felt that, given the current social climate, she couldn’t design the way she envisioned or desired.
So, after much deliberation,
she made her choice.
The foreign-related hotel project would be her final gift to herself.
A way to close this chapter.
Professor Li didn’t fully understand, but he still affirmed her choice and her capabilities.
On their way downstairs, he even offered a few words of encouragement.
Jiang Si smiled. "Thank you."
As luck would have it, the moment she spoke, she ran into Deputy Minister Xu again.
It was lunchtime, so the group headed to the unit’s cafeteria together.
Deputy Minister Xu was never one to hold back. The moment they stepped out of the building, he grinned and said, "Congratulations, Xiao Jiang!"
Jiang Si was puzzled—what was there to celebrate?
Before she could ask, Deputy Minister Xu continued, "About the university opportunity, of course."
Just as Jiang Si was about to respond,
someone called out to Deputy Minister Xu.
She turned and saw Director Yan.
"Ah, I nearly forgot—Old Yan and I have something else to discuss at noon," Deputy Minister Xu said, waving his hand. "Professor Li, you all go ahead. I won’t be joining you in the cafeteria."
Noticing Jiang Si’s prolonged silence, Professor Li asked, "What’s wrong?"
Jiang Si pressed her lips together, feigning worry. "I was just wondering… do a lot of people in the unit know that Minister Zhao recommended me for university?"
"Not at all," Professor Li assured her. "Minister Zhao is meticulous. Given how sensitive the recommendation process is, the list wouldn’t be disclosed to many before it’s finalized—only the candidates themselves would know."
"Then how did Deputy Minister Xu…?"
"Him?" Professor Li chuckled. "Actually, it was Deputy Minister Xu who suggested your name to Minister Zhao in the first place."
At this, Jiang Si’s heart sank.
And suddenly, she understood the strange feeling she’d had earlier—
