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

Three days after the wedding, I returned to the provincial capital.

Xiao Hui escorted me downstairs.

"Xiao Hui, you stay at home and listen to your mother."

"it is good."

She stood there, her arms hanging at her sides, her fingers slightly curled. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps between the buildings, falling on her face, making her eyes bright.

I got on my electric scooter and started it. After riding a few meters, I looked back. She was still standing at the top of the stairs, neither coming up nor waving; she just stood there. I honked the horn, and she smiled.

When I arrived at the construction site, it was a little after nine in the morning. The site was already bustling with activity—tower cranes were turning, pump trucks were humming, and workers were shouting. Everything seemed normal, as if I had never left.

Old Wang was squatting by the foundation pit, holding a steamed bun in his hand. When he saw me, he stood up.

"Engineer Chen, you're back?"

"Um."

"How was the wedding?"

"Good."

"Congratulations." He took a red envelope out of his pocket and handed it over. "Here's a gift."

I didn't answer.

Old Wang was called by Lao Hu after the holiday. After he arrived, his salary was delayed. He worked there for several months, and only a portion of his salary was paid.

"Old Wang, don't—"

"Take it." He stuffed the red envelope into my hand. "It's not much, just a token of my appreciation. Besides, if you hadn't called me over, I'd still be waiting for work in the county town."

I clutched the red envelope and didn't refuse it anymore. He patted my shoulder, squatted down, and continued eating his steamed bun.

At noon, Lao Hu called me to his office. The door was closed, the curtains were drawn, and the room was dark. Blueprints and progress charts were spread out on the table, and the ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts.

"Is the wedding over?" he asked.

"It's done."

"How's your dad?"

"It's alright. He can get out of bed in a wheelchair now."

He nodded, took an envelope from the drawer, and pushed it towards us. "There's 5000 in here; the rest will be sent later."

I picked up the envelope.

"Mr. Hu, when will the progress payment from Party A arrive?"

"I don't know." He lit a cigarette. "I went to follow up again last week, and they said it's 'going through the process.' It's been a month, and it's still not finished." He took a drag, exhaled, and the smoke slowly dissipated under the light.

"Old Wang and the others' salary next month..."

"I'll figure something out," he interrupted me. "You keep an eye on things. I'll take care of the rest."

I didn't say anything more. I stood up and walked out of the office.

Under the sunlight, everything on the construction site was operating as usual. The main structure had reached the 22nd floor, and workers were tying steel bars. The steel bars reflected the sunlight, dazzlingly bright.

Old Wang squatted on the 22nd floor, his hands twisting the reinforcing wire rapidly. His back still ached, but his hands never stopped twisting the steel bars. His son was taking the college entrance exam this year and would come to the provincial capital to visit him after the exam. Old Wang said he wanted to show his son the building he had built.

My phone vibrated. It was a voice message from Xiaohui.

I clicked on it.

"Brother Chen, have you arrived yet?"

"arrive."

"Has Brother Chen eaten yet?"

"Not yet. We'll eat in a bit."

"Brother Chen wants to eat."

I looked at that sentence and my lips twitched slightly. I pressed the voice button, said "Okay," and continued walking upstairs.

……

The main structure was completed at the end of June.

The sun was blazing from the start of the morning, making the steel bars scorching hot, and the hard hat on my head felt like a pot on my head. The last truckload of concrete flowed from the pump pipe, grayish-white, and spread across the roof. The vibrator was pushed in, buzzing like a heartbeat. Old Wang squatted by the edge of the roof, trowel in hand, smoothing out the last shovelful of concrete. After he finished, he stood up, his back cracking loudly.

"Engineer Chen, it's finished."

I stood on the roof, looking down at the entire construction site.

The tower crane was still turning, but there was nothing on its boom. The rebar processing shed was empty, and only a few bundles of rebar and stacks of formwork remained in the material yard. Workers were packing up their tools; some were smoking, some were drinking water, and some were making phone calls.

The foundation pit downstairs has been filled in, and the foundation layer, base slab, wall columns, and roof slab are stacked up layer by layer, from the ground to the twenty-sixth floor, almost three hundred days and nights.

Old Hu stood on the roof for a long time, his hands in his pockets, squinting as he looked into the distance.

"Mr. Hu, the roof has been topped out."

"Hmm." He didn't look at me, staring into the distance. "Chen Mu, how many projects have you worked on with me?"

"The third one."

"The third one," he repeated, as if chewing on something, "The first one was in the county town, the second one was also in the county town, and the third one was in the provincial capital." He paused, "and changed construction sites three times. I don't know where the next one will be."

I didn't reply. A gust of wind blew, and dust from my helmet got into my eyes. I rubbed them, and my eyes turned red.

Old Wang walked over slowly, the soles of his work boots worn smooth, making a scraping sound as he walked. He stood next to me, looking into the distance, without saying a word.

After a while, he took something out of his pocket and handed it to me—a wire hook. It wasn't new; the handle was worn shiny, and the hook tip was a bit dull. "Mr. Chen, this is for you. When I quit this job, you can still remember me when you see it."

"Old Wang, you're quitting?"

"I can't work anymore. My back is killing me." He patted his back, smiled, revealing yellow teeth, "I'm getting ready to go back to my hometown, raise a few sheep, and do some farming. That'll be enough to eat."

I took the wire hook and held it in my hand. The handle was still warm from his body heat.

"Old Wang, these past few years..."

"Mr. Chen, don't say anything." He interrupted me, extending his hand. I grasped it. His hand was rough, his knuckles large, like half an old tree root. "Thank you for these past few years. You're a good man. Live a good life." He released my hand, turned around, and walked away. His back was still bent, his steps unhurried, but today, that bent back seemed to straighten a little.

That evening, Lao Hu treated the workers to dinner. Five tables were set up at a roadside stall near the construction site entrance. The food was plentiful, and there was plenty of alcohol.

Old Hu went from table to table toasting, saying little, raising his glass, downing it in one gulp, then raising it again, downing it again. After finishing his rounds, he returned to his own table, sat down, and lit a cigarette. His hands were trembling, not from illness, but from exhaustion.

"Chen Mu," he looked at me, "this project is finished. What are your plans?"

"Go back to the county town. Find work."

Old Hu nodded. "There's not much work in the county town, and the wages are low."

"I have to do it, even if it's low-paying. My dad's health isn't good, and Xiao Hui is over there, so I can't stay in the provincial capital."

Old Hu was silent for a moment, then stubbed out his cigarette. "I'll let you know when my accounts are settled. You'll get yours for sure."

"Mr. Hu..."

"Enough talk, let's drink."

It was almost midnight when the party ended. The workers left in twos and threes; some had drunk too much and were helped home. The food stall owner was clearing away tables, the bowls and chopsticks clattering. Old Hu was the last to leave; he swayed as he stood up, and I helped him.

"Mr. Hu, let me see you off."

"No need." He pushed my hand away, steadied himself, and looked at me. "Chen Mu, remember this. Those who work on construction sites are always waiting. Waiting for the client to pay, waiting for changes to the blueprints, waiting for materials to arrive, waiting for acceptance. They wait their whole lives, and in the end, they get nothing."

He turned around and walked away. The streetlight shone on him, casting a long shadow, like someone who had walked a very, very long way.

The next day, I started packing. I archived the office documents, packed up the blueprints, and formatted the computer. The potted plant on my desk—I don't know who put it there—had vines trailing over a meter long. I didn't take it; I left it there. The next person who comes might water it, or they might not.

Old Wang left early in the morning. He took everything he needed: blankets, woven bags, and wire hooks. He rode his beat-up motorcycle, sputtering and puffing out black smoke.

I walked him to the construction site entrance. He said, "Mr. Chen, don't bother seeing me off," and I said, "Drive carefully." He nodded, started his bike, and rode off for about ten meters without looking back. I stood at the entrance, watching his figure disappear at the end of the road. A gust of wind blew, stirring up dust from the ground, which stung my eyes. I rubbed them, and whether it was the dust or something else, my eyes welled up with tears.

The day I returned to the county town, the sun was shining brightly. I strapped my luggage—a woven bag and a backpack—to my electric scooter. The dormitory key was on the table, and the door was ajar. As I rode out of the construction site, I glanced back. The tower crane was still standing, its boom suspended in mid-air, no longer rotating. The safety net was still there, billowing in the wind like a tattered flag.

When we arrived in the county town, we went to the hospital first—Dad was hospitalized again. It wasn't anything serious, just a routine check-up and to adjust his medication dosage. He was lying in the hospital bed when he saw me and nodded.

"Xiao Mu, are you done with that job in the provincial capital?"

"Finished, Dad."

"Are you still going or not?"

"I'm not going. I'll find work in the county town."

Dad was silent for a moment. "The wages are low in the county town."

"We have to do it, even if it's low-paying."

He didn't say anything more. Mom peeled an apple beside her, then cut it into small pieces, stuck toothpicks in them, and placed it on the bedside table.

"Xiao Mu, you eat."

I took a piece and popped it into my mouth. It was sweet.

In the afternoon, I went to see Xiaohui.

"Xiao Hui, I've finished the work in the provincial capital. I'm back, and I'm not leaving again."

She looked up at me, her eyes bright. "Not leaving?"

"I'm not leaving. I'll find work in the county town."

She smiled.

I ate dinner at Xiaohui's house that evening. Her mother made braised pork, sweet and sour pork ribs, and stir-fried vegetables, filling the table with food. Her father opened a bottle of baijiu (Chinese liquor), poured himself a glass, and poured one for me as well.

"Chen Mu, you're back. That's great." He picked up the cup, touched it, and drank it all.

I drank it too. The liquor was very spicy, burning from my throat all the way down to my stomach.

Life goes on like this, one day at a time. It won't get better, it won't get worse, it just goes on. I'm back. Dad's still here, Mom's still here, Xiao Hui's still here. Old Wang's gone, Old Hu's gone, and the buildings in the provincial capital have been erected. They're gone, leaving behind that building. That building will always be there.

That's the point of working on construction sites, or maybe not. But I did it, and it's there. That's enough.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Lao Wang. A photo of several sheep grazing, with his hometown in the background—the mountains were still the same mountains, the houses were still the same houses.

"Engineer Chen, I've bought three sheep. They'll have lambs next year."

I replied with one word: "Okay."

I put my phone in my pocket and stood on the balcony. The county town wasn't big, but there were more stars and they were brighter than in the provincial capital.

I went back into the room; Xiao Hui was already asleep. She was lying on her side, legs curled up, her hand beside the pillow, her fingers slightly curled. I turned off the light and lay down next to her.

Close your eyes.

Tomorrow, I'm going to the job market to look for work.