Civil Engineering in the Mortal World: Ten Years Without Knowing Today's Events

At 7:10 a.m., I had just finished washing up when my phone rang.

Director Huang An.

"Chen Mu, come to the project office."

"Mr. Huang, what is it?"

"You'll see when you get here." *Click*, then hung up.

What's coming will come eventually; this "weasel" certainly won't let yesterday's events go easily.

I thought for a moment, then put my phone back in my pocket.

The concrete from last night hadn't completely dried yet, and the work boots I was wearing had a layer of cement crust on the soles, making a cracking sound when I walked.

I didn't have time for breakfast, so I grabbed two steamed buns from the canteen and ate them while riding my electric bike to the project site.

The project headquarters is located one kilometer east of the construction site, in a two-story prefabricated building.

When I pushed open the door and went in, the director was already sitting in the conference room with a piece of paper spread out in front of him.

Rectification Notice.

"Mr. Huang," I greeted him, remaining standing.

"Xiao Chen," Huang An leaned back in his chair, slowly turning the lid of his thermos filled with goji berries, "I told you about the foundation slab last night; the slump exceeded the standard, so I told you to stop pouring. Didn't I tell you?"

"I said so."

"You've already told them to keep pouring, does that mean you have a problem with me personally, or you think our supervision unit is dispensable?"

"Mr. Huang, what was the situation at the time—"

"You don't need to explain the situation to me," Huang An interrupted abruptly, pushing the rectification order towards the center of the table. "I followed the regulations. C40 concrete has a design slump of 180±20, and I measured it three times on-site, with a maximum of 205 and a minimum of 200, both exceeding the limit. Is issuing you a rectification order too much to ask?"

I glanced at the form. The rectification notice stated that "the concrete slump control was not strict, violating the relevant requirements of GB/T 50107-2010," and the rectification requirements were to "immediately stop construction on the relevant parts, adjust the mix ratio, and provide a special quality assessment report for the poured parts."

Assessment report.

These four words struck me like a heavy hammer blow.

"Mr. Huang, who should prepare this evaluation report?"

"Of course, it's a qualified third-party testing agency." Huang An took a sip of goji berry water. "Find a testing company to do a rebound test or a core sample to prove that the strength of your base plate meets the design requirements, and then this matter will be resolved."

"Mr. Huang, if we remove the core, the base plate will be damaged—"

"Then let's do a rebound test," Huang An smiled, a very amiable smile. "You figure it out yourself. Anyway, I'll follow the regulations. You've got me to sign off on my name, so I have to be responsible for it, don't you think?"

I took a deep breath. What are you up to? Don't think I don't know.

Exceeding the slump standard isn't a major issue, but it's not minor either. Strictly following regulations, it certainly warrants rectification. However, on most construction sites, supervisors tend to turn a blind eye, and as long as the strength isn't compromised later, it's considered acceptable.

The strict regulations governing "weasels" are actually making things difficult for themselves.

Last month, "Weasel" mentioned to me that a friend of his makes waterproof membranes, and the quality is good and the price is reasonable. He asked me to recommend him to the project manager.

When I went back and told the project manager, Mr. Hu, about it, he simply said, "We have established suppliers," and that was the end of it.

From then on, the "weasel" never gave me a kind look.

"Mr. Huang," I said in a low voice, "the foundation slab was poured last night, and now you want me to produce an assessment report? The timeline is—"

"That's your problem." Huang An stood up abruptly, looked at me, and continued, "Xiao Chen, to be honest, I have no choice. The quality supervision station is investigating recently. What am I supposed to do? If I turn a blind eye, and the quality supervision station comes to conduct spot checks and there are problems, I can't afford to take the responsibility."

"Okay, Mr. Huang." Seeing that communication was hopeless, I could only pick up the rectification order, fold it, and put it in my pocket.

"Hey, that's more like it," Huang An laughed even louder. "If you cooperate with me and I cooperate with you, it'll be easier for everyone. Hurry up with that assessment report; I need to submit it to the homeowner next Monday."

Next Monday. Today is Friday.

When I left the project site, the uneaten steamed bun in my pocket had gone completely cold.

As I was riding my electric scooter back home, my phone rang. It was project manager Lao Hu.

"Chen Mu, what's going on with the rectification work by the supervisor?"

"Mr. Hu, the slump exceeds the standard; the supervisor has issued a report—"

"How much does it exceed the standard?"

"Actual measurement is around 205."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Old Hu had worked in construction for twenty years, rising from surveyor to project manager; he'd seen it all. He knew what 205 meant. It was over, but not outrageously so.

"Have you talked to Lao Huang yet?"

"We chatted."

"What does he mean?"

I hesitated for a moment and didn't mention the waterproof membrane, because it would sound like I was accusing someone without any evidence.

"He said he would issue an assessment report."

"Then go find a testing company, do a rebound test, and get it done quickly."

"Mr. Hu, regarding the rebound, the intensity hasn't increased yet; we'll have to wait at least fourteen days—"

"Then wait fourteen days. During this time, the foundation cannot be moved. You'll have to figure out the construction schedule yourself."

The phone hangs up.

What can I do?

There's no need to rush back to the construction site now. I parked my electric scooter by the roadside, sat on the shoulder, and took out a steamed bun to take a bite. The bun was dry and hard, like biting into a block of cement.

This foundation slab is the main building's raft foundation. We need to proceed with reinforcing steel, formwork, and pouring concrete for walls and columns. Since the foundation slab can't be moved, all procedures have to be postponed. Each day of postponement costs 2,000 yuan for tower crane rental, 3,000 yuan for worker idle time, and there's also the cost of the concrete mixer trucks being parked at the commercial concrete plant.

The boss won't pay for this.

Of course, I won't be asked to pay out of pocket, but when it comes to settling accounts at the end of the year, any delays in the construction period or cost overruns will be attributed to me.

The phone rang again.

Xiao Liu.

"Brother Chen, come back quickly. The supervisor has taken samples on site and needs to take them back to make test blocks."

Upon hearing this, I quickly stood up, got on my electric scooter, and rushed back.

When we arrived at the construction site, Huang An was already there. He was wearing a white hard hat, standing next to the concrete mixer truck, holding an iron bucket, and pouring concrete into the test mold.

There was another person standing next to him—Old Li from the quality supervision station.

Seeing this, I quickly went over and greeted them, saying, "General Manager Huang, Team Leader Li."

Old Li glanced at me, said nothing, and continued watching Huang An prepare the test block. Huang An was very meticulous, carefully inserting and smoothing the blocks layer by layer before covering them with plastic sheeting. Every movement was impeccably precise.

"Team Leader Li," Huang An looked up, "I'll take three sets of these test blocks. One set will stay in your standard curing room, one set I'll take with me, and one set will be sent to the testing center. You have no objections, right?"

"no."

"That's fine then." Huang An dusted off his hands, stood up, and said, "If the procedures are followed correctly, no one will have anything to say. Engineer Chen, don't you agree?"

I could only nod.

After Huang An and Lao Li left, Xiao Liu came over, his face pale.

"Brother Chen, what brings the quality inspection station here?"

"Hmph, of course the supervisor called him over."

"Damn," Xiao Liu whispered, "what's he trying to do?"

"I want to make this a big deal." As I said this, I squatted down and looked at the three sets of test blocks. Cement grout was still seeping out, grayish-white, like tears.

"What should we do then?"

"What can we do?" I said, standing up, my legs a little weak. "He goes to get a sample, sends it for testing, and we have to wait 28 days for the results. During those 28 days, the base plate can't be moved, and all other processes have to be postponed."

"Twenty-eight days?" Xiao Liu's voice changed. "Then the construction period—"

"I know."

Assessment report. Third-party testing. Twenty-eight days. Construction delay. Cost overrun. Boss yelling. Client deducting payment.

This string of things, like a chain, was wrapped around my neck, one loop after another.

Just then, the phone rang; it was Lao Hu.

"Chen Mu, come to my office."

When I pushed open the office door, Lao Hu was sitting behind his desk with three sheets of paper spread out in front of him.

Just by looking at the format, I knew it was a progress payment application form.

"sit."

I sat down on the sofa by the door.

"Did the construction supervisor and quality control station just go to the site to take samples?"

"Yes, Mr. Hu."

"Looks like the supervisor is going to make a big deal out of this."

Let me look at Lao Hu.

Old Hu was in his early fifties, having spent half his life on construction sites. His skin was as black as cowhide, but his eyes were bright. He knew everything, but he just didn't want to say it.

"It's probably still about the waterproof membrane from last time," I could only bring the topic up.

This time, Lao Hu didn't respond immediately. He picked up the thermos on the table, unscrewed the lid, blew on it, and took a sip. The Pu'er tea was dark and intensely flavorful.

"What did you say?"

"I told him that the company has its own fixed suppliers."

Old Hu put down his cup and asked, "Little Chen, how long have you been working on this project?"

"A year and a half."

"A year and a half," Lao Hu repeated, leaning back in his chair, "Then you should know which company supplied the waterproof membrane for this project."

"Know."

"The supplier is my brother-in-law, but Lao Huang didn't know about this relationship," Lao Hu continued. "He didn't need to know. All he knew was that he wanted to put someone in my shoes, but I didn't accept."

"Then he's blocking us—"

"He's holding us back, not because of the waterproof membrane," Old Hu took another sip of tea, "but because he feels he's lost face. He's been the project manager for six months and hasn't gotten any benefits yet. He's getting impatient."

I didn't respond and waited for Lao Hu to continue.

"The problem isn't that he issues rectification orders," Lao Hu said, "it's that he can keep issuing them. Reinforcing steel, formwork, concrete, waterproofing, scaffolding—he can find fault with everything. Even if everything is within the permitted limits, he can still find something wrong. Do you believe me?"

"letter."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

I opened my mouth helplessly, then closed it again. What could I decide? I'm just an employee.

"You don't need to answer me now," Old Hu pushed the progress payment application form aside, took an envelope from the drawer, and placed it on the table. "Take this."

I looked at the envelope with a puzzled expression. "What's this?"

"Your overtime pay from last month. Four thousand yuan, in cash."

"Mr. Hu, overtime pay isn't deposited into your bank account—"

"This doesn't go through the card," Lao Hu continued. "I know how hard you've worked. The foundation was poured for over twenty hours, and you were on-site the whole time. But hard work has to yield results, otherwise it's all for nothing."

Suddenly it dawned on me that the money in the envelope might not be overtime pay.

"Mr. Hu, you're asking me to—"

"I didn't ask you to do anything," Old Hu stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to me. "You decide for yourself. You are the one executing the project on site. Do whatever you think is best for the project."

"I understand, Mr. Hu." As I said this, I picked up the envelope on the table. It wasn't thick, but it felt heavy.

When I reached the corner on the first floor, I stopped by the railing. I looked at the envelope clutched in my hand; the edges were already crumpled.

Four thousand yuan.

I could take it to buy two cartons of good cigarettes, invite Huang An to dinner, hand him the envelope, and say, "Mr. Huang, please take care of me in the future." At most, that would mean this matter wouldn't be pursued further.

Because the "weasel" wanted more than just that number.

Four thousand dollars to buy an entire project in Taiping? That's too cheap!