Chapter 30: Taking the Civil Service Exam in the Apocalypse (2)

Minister of Organization Tian Yali read out the requirements for applying to be a civil servant, which were essentially the same as before the apocalypse: preference would be given to those with relevant work experience, followed by those with relevant professional backgrounds. In the event that neither could be met—a highly likely scenario given the massive population loss—then those with any sort of related experience or expertise would be prioritized. If even that was lacking, they would test for basic knowledge, the main goal being simply to get the system up and running.

The exam questions were simple and direct, focusing on how, under the current circumstances, one would organize the work of a given department. For example: how should the logistics minister manage and distribute supplies? How should the public security minister maintain internal order? How should the minister for united front work handle relationships with other survivor groups? There was none of the usual bureaucratic complexity.

Those already designated for certain positions were required to submit a work plan for their department as soon as possible to the special committee leadership.

At this moment, Ou Fuchun, the minister of health, came upstairs. “I ran some tests. The rainwater is basically identical in composition to what it was before the apocalypse. In fact, with industrial production halted, it might even be purer. However, without proper equipment, I can’t say for sure if it’s drinkable. But it’s definitely fine for bathing and washing clothes.”

Everyone fell silent. Bathing, doing laundry—basic needs so easily overlooked since the world ended, when simple survival had become the only priority.

Li Fengyi immediately gave an order. “For now, the Ministry of Civil Affairs, under Secretary Wang Shujuan, will organize making ginger tea. Everyone else, go take a shower, wash your clothes, and bring out any household items that can hold water—fill them all up for reserve!” It was still relatively cool in June; catching a cold now would be hard to treat in these times. Even if it wasn’t fatal, it would reduce their effective numbers.

The group cheered as they headed downstairs. Those interested in applying for civil servant roles hesitated—should they wash or not? The very first time they were to be involved in organizational work, they were already revealing individualistic tendencies, worried it might reflect badly on them.

Li Fengyi deliberately said nothing, watching their expressions.

A few people sighed in resignation and dutifully went into the room to answer the exam questions.

Spring was also the season for roof waterproofing. The residential building in the retirees’ compound had plenty of waterproofing materials; work had been underway when the apocalypse struck. Just yesterday, they had rescued some of the construction crew, including a technical specialist.

“How much weight can our rooftop bear?” Li Fengyi asked the technician, who was already slated to join the Ministry of Industry and Information—a rare talent. “Could we block off the drainpipes and collect rainwater up there?”

“Director Li, my name is Chang Ming.” He was a man in his thirties, dressed in dark blue work clothes. Eager to introduce himself and have his name remembered by the leadership, he was especially attentive after his brush with death. “The standard load-bearing capacity is generally 200 kilograms per square meter. Unless specially designed, new buildings usually don’t reach that, but houses from the last century are almost always fine.”

“So both the retirees’ compound and the Jiawu compound should be fine—they were built in the eighties and nineties,” Li Fengyi nodded and turned to Deputy Director Li Qiang. “Vice Director Li, send someone with him to the roof to start collecting water. It’ll be for cleaning and other household use.”

Li Qiang called First Company to assemble in the courtyard. All around, people were already bathing; the cement tiles had been pried up, and everyone was happily washing in the muddy ground.

“First Company, assemble!” Nearly all the able-bodied people were in the squad now. Li Qiang shouted like a herald, “Follow Technician Chang to the roof—start collecting water!”

The rain was heavy. Chang Ming directed everyone to use bricks, wood, and stone to roughly block the roof drains, reducing the water flow, then to cover the area with waterproof materials. The waterproofing was asphalt felt, which had to be heated with an oxyacetylene torch until it melted, then pressed down while hot; once cooled, it was done.

Everyone held boards over their heads to keep the rain off the equipment and materials. Many hands made light work—within two hours, the rooftops of both the retirees’ buildings, the Jiawu compound, and Mary Hospital had all been sealed and made waterproof. Rainwater filled the rooftops and began to cascade over the eaves like waterfalls, a spectacular sight.

Li Fengyi stood at window 607, watching the clear rain pour from the roof. It was like a curtain of water, reminiscent of the mythical Water Curtain Cave. “The rain seems heavier than in previous years since the apocalypse! And cleaner, too. Rain used to be gray-brown, but after this storm, won’t Beijing become a city of water?”

The completed civil service exams and departmental plans were all collected. In truth, the plans were largely the same—how to organize departmental work? The main difference was that the civil service exams had a personal resume attached to the front. Writing two identical resumes could help spot lies; in an age without any formal background checks, this was at least some preventive measure.

Minister of Health Ou Fuchun’s plan called for collecting as much medical equipment and as many medical professionals as possible, with a focus on surgeons for battlefield injuries, and virus specialists. As for internal medicine, he found signs that survivors’ constitutions had markedly improved—many who had chronic conditions before were now recovered. The data wasn’t comprehensive, but it was significant enough that internists were given a lower priority.

He also mentioned that the human skull is extremely tough, rarely fatal when struck. He had examined zombie skulls as well; they were at least as hard as those of humans. Yet, post-apocalypse survivors could now split them open with a steel pipe in just three or five blows—something unimaginable before. Li Fengyi had never noticed this before; after all, hardly anyone had any experience killing before the apocalypse.

But Ou had one request that left Li Fengyi pondering for a long while: he wanted to capture a few live zombies for research. Although Li Fengyi and his team had killed thousands of zombies and observed them closely, the idea of capturing one alive had never occurred to him. “Maybe that’s the difference between professionals and the rest of us,” he thought, ironically.

Finally, Minister Ou insisted on the proper disposal of both zombie and human corpses to prevent outbreaks of disease.

Of all the résumés submitted to the personnel department, there were only five doctors. Ou ranked them by priority: the highest-priority doctor would not be sent to the front lines except in emergencies, nor would they be diverted to other work.

Candidates for Minister of Civil Affairs mostly suggested organizing the storage and management of supplies. Two proposed systematically gathering supplies from distribution centers and storage sites in Beijing, prioritizing areas with a higher ratio of survivors.

One even suggested classifying supply distribution by level—a few others had thought of it as well, but dared not put it in writing, afraid survivors would find out who suggested it and protest, or worse, bear grudges that might come back to haunt them in the future.