Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Construction Team Begins Work

During the New Year, there was hardly any festive atmosphere in Gaogang Village. Most houses along the way had their gates tightly shut, likely because the residents had returned to their hometowns to visit relatives. In a few homes where people remained, smoke curled from the chimneys, and from within came the crisp, lively clatter of mahjong tiles.

Playing mahjong during the New Year was a time-honored tradition, cherished equally by the rich and the poor.

From afar, Jiang Xuan could be seen wearing a safety helmet, standing atop scaffolding, half her body emerging from the center of a pseudo-Siheyuan courtyard, directing the work from above.

Unauthorized constructions were rampant in Gaogang Village. People added extra rooms as they pleased. If a family felt their house was too small and wanted another storage room or kitchen, as long as there was space and it didn’t bother others, they could start building at any time.

The villagers had long since grown accustomed to these expansions. The construction of the pseudo-Siheyuan was simply an extension of the original house, causing no disturbance to anyone and thus attracting little attention.

Zhao Zejun entered through the door that used to belong to Ren Bida. The main hall was empty except for several bags of cement and building materials piled up. He walked through the house into the backyard, where scaffolding had been erected, and Jiang Xuan stood atop it.

Four tanned workers bustled up and down. There was also a bespectacled middle-aged man wearing an outdated Mao suit, crouched in a corner, sketching with a pencil.

Including Jiang Xuan and Junzi, there were seven people in all—Jiang Xuan’s newly assembled small construction team.

“Come on, everyone, take a break. Let’s meet our big boss!” Jiang Xuan called out as she leapt from the two-meter-high scaffolding, clapping her hands to get the workers’ attention.

Zhao Zejun chuckled, “Boss Jiang, with skills like yours, you could star in a martial arts film.”

The workers noticed how young and easygoing their new boss seemed, and laughter rippled through the group.

“Let me introduce everyone. This is Old Chen. He used to work at a cement factory but was laid off and now finds jobs on his own. He’s the one sourcing our cement—much cheaper than market price. Old Zhu does electrical, masonry, carpentry, and painting—quite the all-rounder, ha ha…”

Having traveled from 2016, Zhao Zejun knew all too well the pain of hiring workers. He had chosen the right person—Jiang Xuan had managed to gather a professional team in just a few days.

“Hello, boss…”

“Hello, boss…”

Each person greeted Zhao Zejun courteously as they were introduced, and he responded with a smile and a nod.

“What about that gentleman?” Zhao Zejun asked, noticing that the bespectacled man in the Mao suit, still absorbed in his drawings in the corner, had not yet been introduced.

“Lao Liang, come over here,” Jiang Xuan called out.

The middle-aged man finally looked up, his glasses as thick as the bottom of a beer bottle.

The three of them went inside. Jiang Xuan pulled out a cigarette and offered one to ‘Old Liang’. “Allow me to formally introduce you. This is Engineer Liang Shi. He used to work under Mr. Song, responsible for design, planning, and project budgeting—a true intellectual, a real talent!”

“Oh, I don’t deserve such praise,” Liang Shi replied modestly, waving his hand.

Zhao Zejun’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at Jiang Xuan. Hadn’t he said not to bring anyone from Song’s team? What was going on?

Jiang Xuan read his concern and explained with a half-smile, “Not only is Engineer Liang skilled, he’s also principled. Last October, Old Song asked him to falsify documents. He refused and got fired. It took a lot of persuading to get him to help with our little project.”

Zhao Zejun’s worries were put to rest. That was fine, then. The roles of house designer and project estimator were crucial. If the construction team ever wanted to become officially certified and grow, such a person was indispensable. Having a principled, technically skilled engineer in charge would save them much trouble.

“You flatter me, Xiao Jiang. I’ve been worried about making ends meet lately. If I can earn some honest money, all the better. Houses are for people to live in, after all—we must do things right,” Liang Shi said.

Zhao Zejun could tell that Liang Shi was a typical techie type—unskilled in social maneuvering, stubbornly principled, and unwilling to compromise, which explained why he’d been fired.

“Since you’re here, Mr. Zhao, let me report on the design and budget,” Liang Shi said, spreading the rolled-up plans on the table.

Zhao Zejun couldn’t really decipher the technical details, so he just listened.

The total estimated cost for the pseudo-Siheyuan project was fifteen thousand yuan.

It wasn’t cheap. After the real estate boom, prices for cement, steel, and land skyrocketed. Including the cost of land, the construction cost per square meter for commercial housing would be only a few thousand yuan. Zhao Zejun didn’t have to worry about land costs, and the current prices for building materials were low, most of which were one-off, inferior materials. The only truly valuable items were probably the few steel rods.

The main expense was labor, paid daily.

As planned, the first-floor courtyard would be converted into a separate unit, making five apartments in total.

For the second-floor addition, Zhao Zejun’s initial plan allowed for two more units; more than that, and the first floor couldn’t bear the load—there was a risk of collapse before demolition even took place.

After a thorough inspection, Liang Shi found that the materials and workmanship of the existing units were solid. With his rational layout, and quality load-bearing steel used at crucial points, they could manage to add three more regular units plus a small sunroom on the top floor.

“So, you’re saying the second floor can accommodate four new units? Three medium-sized, plus one smaller one? Wait, actually, that’s a three-bedroom on the second floor and a loft—like three above and two hidden?” Zhao Zejun exclaimed.

Liang Shi adjusted his glasses. “If this building were to be occupied, I wouldn’t dare design it this way. But since it’s just for demolition compensation, there’s absolutely no problem.”

“Great, great, thank you for your hard work.” Zhao Zejun grinned. This meant they’d get an extra medium-sized and a small unit compared to his original plan.

“If—just hypothetically—if people did live here, would it collapse?” Zhao Zejun asked suddenly.

“Under normal circumstances, probably not. But the structure isn’t ideal, and the living environment would be poor. The load-bearing beams are calculated at the minimum. If one were removed or damaged, collapse would be inevitable, with significant safety risks. If Jiang Xuan hadn’t assured me no one would live here, I wouldn’t have designed it like this,” Liang Shi replied.

“Oh, of course, I was just curious.”

After a few more words, Zhao Zejun was quite satisfied. He happened to have two cartons of Chunghwa cigarettes from Yu Zhe’s house and handed one to Liang Shi. “Mr. Liang, I don’t have much to offer during the holiday—just this.”

Liang Shi peered through his thick glasses at the bright red carton, hastily saying, “This is great, really expensive—thank you, Mr. Zhao.”

“No need for thanks, it’s the New Year,” Zhao Zejun replied, tossing the other carton to Jiang Xuan. He then returned to the courtyard, handing out cigarettes to everyone, giving his New Year’s wishes, and called out to Junzi, who was sawing wood, “Junzi, let’s have a proper lunch for everyone. Get some beer, plenty of braised pork head and other meat. It’s the New Year—I’ll drink with everyone. Today marks the official beginning of our team!”

“Sounds good! Pig’s head is the best!” the workers cheered.

“Alright, I’ll go buy it now.”

Zhao Zejun smiled, “No need to go elsewhere for food. From now on, all our team’s meals come from your family’s place—you run a roadside restaurant, after all.”

Junzi put down his work, lit a cigarette for Zhao Zejun, and grinned, his dirty face breaking into a wide smile. “Brother Zhao, no need to pay—I’ll treat everyone.”

“Are you crazy?” Zhao Zejun glared at him, turning to Jiang Xuan, “What kind of leader are you? All your guys are turning into saints!”

Jiang Xuan looked just as baffled. “Junzi, are you alright? Business is business, friendship is friendship—don’t mix them up. Besides, you can’t take advantage of just anyone.”

“No joke. The crayfish business is booming, just like you suggested, Brother Zhao. Lots of people are coming to eat. We’re making more in one day now than we used to in two or three. My mom keeps saying we should thank you. You won’t take a share, so I’ll cover the construction team’s meals,” said Junzi.