Chapter 31: Taking the Civil Service Exam in the Apocalypse (3)
Li Fengyi felt that the man named Ma Huaibo, who proposed this suggestion, was quite suited for the position of Minister of Civil Affairs. He followed the recommendations from the Organization and Human Resources Department, selected personnel based on their resumes, and arranged them in order of priority.
For the position of United Front Minister, there was only one candidate, Ye Liuzun, a man in his thirties who had previously been a public relations manager at a company before the apocalypse. He had an interesting specialty—he could hold his liquor remarkably well. The Special Committee was clearly under the leadership of China, which meant the nation itself, and thus had legitimate grounds for dealings with other survivor organizations. After all, reclaiming their own territory needed no justification.
All the leaders from other groups were to be temporarily incorporated into the Special Committee’s advisory or staff units; if they resisted, it fell under the jurisdiction of the Armed Forces Department. If they committed offenses after joining, the Public Security Department would handle it. During the transitional period, the focus was on changing their ideology. “These people,” it was said, “have shown the ability to survive and organize some force, so they can be considered for employment as appropriate, which will also facilitate future united front work.”
“This man has depth of thought,” Li Fengyi mused. “He’s not just a barrel of liquor.”
Ye Liuzun picked out several people who had worked in sales before the apocalypse and organized them in order of priority.
There were three candidates for Public Security Minister, all former police officers. Their answers were similar, all recommending severe measures in these chaotic times, using pre-apocalypse laws but with swift and harsh punishments. Watching the three rank each other in priority, Li Fengyi found it quite interesting—it was a method of mutual evaluation among insiders. He decided to appoint the one ranked highest by the others as the first Public Security Minister.
There was only one candidate for Education Minister, a teacher who had been sick at home on the day the apocalypse struck. Ironically, after the end of the world, her illness vanished, indirectly confirming Ou Fuchun’s theory that the system had been enhanced.
Her plan was to restart classes for the children as soon as possible, sourcing teachers from those with academic expertise to teach during their free time. For this, the children’s daily routines would need to be adjusted.
For the Ministry of Science and Technology and the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, Sun Xiaoshan was temporarily in charge, since there was a lack of leading figures for science and technology. There was a PhD at Institute No. 5, but unfortunately his doctorate was in aesthetics. Li Fengyi felt this was a pity; now people’s priorities were survival, and the field of aesthetics might fade quickly.
Tian Yali, the Organization Minister, planned to register the resumes of new members, categorize them, and coordinate the allocation of personnel across departments.
Minister Li Qiang of the Armed Forces and Commander Liu reached the following agreement: anyone wielding a broadsword or spear could be considered part of the army, as could those carrying steel pipes or reinforcement bars. However, they lacked formal unit numbers, which required Military Commission approval. For now, they would be called the Provisional First Battalion of the Chinese People's Liberation Army, not the Special Committee Provisional First Battalion.
“Our party forbids personal militias and faction-building,” Commander Liu said, casting a cunning glance at Li Fengyi. “I’m also a reserve member of the Military Commission, so I’ll assign a temporary unit number on behalf of the Commission.”
“Maybe this is why the old man insists on me joining the party,” Li Fengyi thought with some malice toward him. “If he were mixing with a bandit army, he’d suffer terribly.” Li Fengyi didn’t mind; he had always detested internal strife.
All survivors, except those with the highest priority, plus a few disabled, elderly, and children, were—under current circumstances—assigned to the First Battalion, regardless of gender, totaling 507 people. Of these, 460 were in the army: three combat companies and one logistics and supply company, mainly composed of weaker women and men. The logistics and supply company was responsible for base security and material management under the Civil Affairs Department. Notably, they were given fifteen guns.
“Firing guns at zombies has serious consequences,” Li Qiang said authoritatively. “On our march, zombies were only on the roads, attracted in limited numbers by engine noise, moving slowly. But the moment we fired, zombies swarmed in and nearly overwhelmed us. I don’t know why gunshots attract them so much, even more than the sight of beautiful women.” He shivered. “If you don’t hit the head, they don’t die—they’ll crawl just to bite you. Even a trained force can’t all be sharpshooters, let alone our current troops.”
Li Fengyi had decreed that frontline personnel were forbidden to fire their weapons except in emergencies, mainly as a precaution against humans. Li Qiang considered this a wise rule.
Officers in the Provisional First Battalion were either survivors with distinguished records or retired soldiers from the old army, who were assigned to the staff unit and handled logistics in peacetime.
“People shouldn’t be idle, and the old veterans’ stamina is limited,” Commander Liu insisted. “Let them contribute what they can. As manpower increases, we’ll establish militia and reserves. Also, the children should be organized into a Young Pioneers unit—they can handle sentry duty.” The old man, a former member of the Children’s Regiment, never forgot the importance of children.
He also wanted to make military and national flags, but Li Fengyi cautioned, “We don't know yet if zombies are especially sensitive to red. Better have Minister Ou research this before making a decision.”
Most department heads were now confirmed. The appointment of the Party Secretary required internal Party deliberation, to be discussed later. As suitable personnel emerged, the gaps would be filled.
“In wartime, the Party’s role is indispensable,” Commander Liu said with conviction. “Often, when troops are about to collapse, the higher-ups don’t send reinforcements or ammunition, but instead dispatch a capable political commissar, and suddenly morale is restored.”
Li Fengyi couldn’t help but recall Stalingrad and the defense of Moscow. The enemy always prioritized executing political commissars first. If you sent a religious zealot instead, he’d probably lead the soldiers straight to heaven.
Luckily, zombies didn’t care about such things, Li Fengyi thought with relief. At least, for now, the Party Secretary of the Armed Forces wasn’t among their preferred targets.
The various departments were now established.
The Special Work Committee for Post-Apocalyptic Beijing: Director, Li Fengyi; Party Secretary, Li Qiang; Adviser, Liu Tieshan—Commander Liu’s full name.
Nine departments under its jurisdiction:
Minister of Armed Forces: Li Qiang; Party Secretary: Li Fengyi; Chief of Staff: Commander Liu; all retired military cadres joined this division.
Minister of Organization: Tian Yali; Party Secretary: Sun Xiuqing; Clerk: Qi Tianfang.
Minister of Public Security: Chu Xiongfei—ranked highest by the other two candidates, aged forty-two; Party Secretary: Yin Zhibin, thirty-seven. In fact, police officers had the highest Party membership rates outside the military. The third candidate had just graduated from police school and was a Youth League member.
Minister of Civil Affairs: Ma Huaibo, thirty-eight, former procurement manager at a food company; Party Secretary: Wang Shujuan. Since procurement staff traditionally liked to keep a little for themselves, the Special Committee mandated strict education and oversight, as all supplies were now vital for survival and required tighter management.