A Clever Way to File a Complaint with the Emperor

Chapter 90 A Clever Way to File a Complaint with the Emperor

When Jung Do-hoon finally got home after a busy day, the fried chicken was completely cold.

Jung Do-hoon took the fried chicken out of the takeout box and put it in the microwave for two minutes. While the machine was humming, he leaned against the counter, opened Duolingo, and finished his review for the day.

He was reviewing vocabulary words while thinking about work—

The risk assessment of the Spanish-speaking market has been initially completed. The market size and potential can be assessed by referring to Fang Zhixiu's report. The next key task is to conduct pilot projects with limited funding, develop a complete set of feasible plans, and submit them to higher authorities.

Perhaps we could arrange an overseas trip for Nmi?

The microwave beeped, and the fried chicken, which had been cooled and then reheated, was no longer crispy, but it was definitely one of the best fried chickens Jung Do-hoon had ever eaten.

He finished the last piece of fried chicken, just as he finished the last question on Duolingo.

Zheng Daoxun took a screenshot and casually sent it to Xuechong.

He only noticed the time after sending it—1:07 AM.

The message was instantly marked as read.

The "typing" notification lit up for a few seconds, then went out. This happened several times, and Xuechong didn't send any more messages until Zheng Daoxun finished washing up and lay down in bed.

The next morning, Jung Do-hoon was woken up by his biological clock.

He picked up his phone and glanced at it—Xue Yun had sent her last message at 1:32 a.m.

Good night, you've had a tough day too.

Does it really take half an hour to type just one sentence? Jung Do-hoon smiled and left a note on the refrigerator before leaving, which contained the ratio of eggs to flour when coating the bread.

Ya-Hsien's attempt to make something yesterday failed, probably because she didn't get the proportions right.

When Zheng Daoxun arrived at the office, it was already bustling with activity.

Several staff members gathered in the tea room, holding coffee, their voices low but their gossipy tone impossible to hide.

"Have you heard? A female idol was detained by security last night."

"Is that so? What's she doing at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs? Waiting for her boyfriend?"

"I don't know, but I was questioned for half an hour before they released me."

Upon seeing Secretary Zheng arrive, the clerk lowered his voice and hastily ended the conversation.

Bae Dong-young walked over with two Americanos, handed one to Jung Do-hoon, and gave him a meaningful look.

Jung Do-hoon took the coffee, took a sip expressionlessly, and turned the computer monitor toward himself: "Notify the classrooms that there will be a meeting at 9:30 to continue advancing the project for cultural exchange between Korea and Spain."

Pei Dongyong nodded knowingly and turned to call for help.

The morning meeting lasted for more than an hour.

Zheng Daoxun outlined the next phase of work—the cultural counselor in Madrid has already expressed his intention to cooperate via diplomatic email, and the next step is to contact local Spanish convention and exhibition companies and performance agencies to finalize several feasible cooperation frameworks.

Park Ah-jeong was responsible for following up on email correspondence, while Bae Dong-young was responsible for liaising with the relevant departments of the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism.

After the meeting, Zheng Daoxun returned to his workstation and began preparing his speech for the afternoon.

The press conference for the "Regulations on the Safety Management of Overseas Cultural Activities" was scheduled for 2 p.m., and he hosted it.

This regulation doesn't actually have much to do with the public; it mainly targets the process management of entertainment agencies when organizing overseas activities. However, considering that it is a direct result of the recent incident of artists being stranded in Indonesia, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs decided to give it a formal release ceremony as a way of giving the public an explanation.

This was his last task before lunch break, but things didn't go as planned. Around noon, the classroom's public mailbox received a forwarded email.

The source of this repost is Shenwen Drum.

The Shenwen Drum is a platform established by the government for citizens to voice their grievances.

Anyone can submit inquiries, complaints, or suggestions on the platform, and the system will automatically assign them to the appropriate department for processing based on the content.

This consultation was assigned to the Cultural Exchange Division of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and its title was "[Several Questions Regarding the Selection Process for Ambassadors of the 2030 Busan World Expo]".

Pei Dongyong originally planned to handle it according to the standard procedure and simply reply with a standard template.

But when he clicked on the consultation content and saw the signature in the lower right corner, he raised an eyebrow.

Applicant: Jinzheng.

He brought his notebook to Zheng Daoxun and showed the contents to the clerk with a smile.

Logically speaking, a high-ranking civil servant like Zheng Daoxun would not need to handle basic tasks like the Shenwen Drum.

But it wasn't until he saw the words "Gold Certificate" that he realized what was going on.

Pei Dongyong, that old fox, has an exceptionally wide network of information sources; he even knows that the one whose documents were confiscated yesterday is Jin Zheng.

"Clerk, this—" Pei Dongyong tried hard to suppress his smile, "Should I handle this?"

"No need." Zheng Daoxun stopped what he was doing and forwarded the email to his computer.

The consultation was much more substantial than I expected; it only consisted of three paragraphs:

In the first paragraph, as a citizen of Busan, I express my concern about the selection criteria and process for the Expo ambassadors;

The second paragraph inquires whether there will be a transparent public announcement process for the selection, and whether there will be a public voting component:

The third paragraph asks when the official results are expected to be released.

Jung Do-hoon read the consultation document from beginning to end and was amused by the signature at the end—Kim Seong, a Busan citizen.

Under what circumstances did Kim Min-jeong write this document?

He could almost picture the persistent, meticulous, and somewhat clumsy girl sitting in front of the computer, carefully considering each word.

It's quite amusing that a girl who's still so inexperienced in the ways of the world would write about Shenwen Drum in this tone.

Was it written with AI? Zheng Daoxun looked at it carefully again, and the traces of AI were not obvious.

If she's smart, how did she manage to cause such a commotion yesterday?

You could say she's stupid, but she actually knows how to use the Shenwen drum—

The strength of this system lies in the fact that civil servants who receive the petition drum must respond to the citizen, and they cannot simply give a perfunctory reply.

Moreover, Jinzheng's petition was written reasonably well; at least the logic was clear, unlike many citizens who write long paragraphs but fail to clearly express their meaning. This is why civil servants dread seeing petitions.

She probably never imagined that the Shenwen Drum she had painstakingly written would eventually end up in the possession of Jeong Do-hoon.

Jung Do-hoon considered sending Kim Jung a message to tease her, but ultimately decided against it and began seriously drafting a reply.

Why is it that two people who know each other and have contact information need to communicate with each other through the Shenwen Drum System? What's going on? How will she react when she sees that the person who replied to her is Zheng Daoxun?

After the application is completed, the system displays that the application is processed and automatically generates an electronic receipt, which is sent to the applicant's registered email address.

Meanwhile, in a practice room in Gangnam District, Seoul.

Kim Min-jung had just finished a break from his individual practice and was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wondering what to have for lunch, when his phone suddenly vibrated.

She received an unread email from the Shenwen Drum platform.

The title is "Your inquiry has been answered".

They replied so quickly? Kim Minchan even checked last night when he was writing about Shinmungu; the average response time is 6.2 days.

When did South Korean civil servants become so efficient? Are they just going to brush it off with a simple "I don't know"?

Then she will have to write another petition to file a complaint, which is a legitimate right of Jinzheng as a taxpayer and citizen.

She opened the email and quickly scanned the body of the message—a standard, template-like reply, practically identical to Zheng Daoxun's reply from the previous night.

The opening statement is that no case filing notice has been received yet. Any progress will be announced on the official website of the World Expo Bidding Committee.

"So all civil servants are the same!"

Kim Min-jung muttered to himself, his gaze pausing for a moment when he read the signature.

Person in charge: Zheng Daoxun, Cultural Exchange Division, Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Kim Min-jung didn't specifically choose to consult the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, so why did he reply to himself?

Why do I feel inexplicably embarrassed? I bet Jeong Do-hoon would burst out laughing if he saw the letter he wrote about the Shinmungu.

At this moment, a message came from Kakao:

[Lord Daoxun: Did you see the reply?]